Cellblock 15 was silent and dark, bathed in the red glow of the energy beams on the cell doors. The cells, enclosed in a single long hall that was blocked by a reinforced steel door, held ten of the most dangerous super-powered criminals known to man. The place was the Vault, an expansive jail built for the specifics of holding extra-normal criminals. The people in Cellblock 15 were lifers.
The door to the hall silently opened, briefly allowing light to enter the block before it closed back. A single guard slowly walked the length of the corridor, eyeing each prisoner as he passed the cells. Some of the inmates slept, but others were wide-awake, scowling at the guard as he walked by.
The guard stopped at the last cell, his features covered by darkness as he stared at the room's occupant. The thin man, lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Arch Morton," the guard spoke, his voice barely above that of a whisper, "otherwise known as Chemistro, correct?"
"Go away, man," Morton requested, "I get hassled by you guys enough as it is, anyway."
The guard said nothing as he raised a small pistol, the barrel extending through the cell's laser bars. Morton jumped up from his bed, only to receive two gunshots to the chest. As he fell to the ground, dead from the blasts, the rest of the prisoners all snapped to attention. They rushed to the laser screens of their rooms, all craning their neck to see what had happened.
"If I may have your attention," the guard began, smoke billowing from the barrel of his gun, "we're about to play a little game. Scream all you like, nobody will be coming to help you."
The eyes of each prisoner widened as the guard's face unexplainably changed shape. A few gasped when the red light reflected off the skull that doubled as the assassin's face. "Just so we get it out of the way," the Scourge stated grimly, "justice is served."
The door to the hall silently opened, briefly allowing light to enter the block before it closed back. A single guard slowly walked the length of the corridor, eyeing each prisoner as he passed the cells. Some of the inmates slept, but others were wide-awake, scowling at the guard as he walked by.
The guard stopped at the last cell, his features covered by darkness as he stared at the room's occupant. The thin man, lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Arch Morton," the guard spoke, his voice barely above that of a whisper, "otherwise known as Chemistro, correct?"
"Go away, man," Morton requested, "I get hassled by you guys enough as it is, anyway."
The guard said nothing as he raised a small pistol, the barrel extending through the cell's laser bars. Morton jumped up from his bed, only to receive two gunshots to the chest. As he fell to the ground, dead from the blasts, the rest of the prisoners all snapped to attention. They rushed to the laser screens of their rooms, all craning their neck to see what had happened.
"If I may have your attention," the guard began, smoke billowing from the barrel of his gun, "we're about to play a little game. Scream all you like, nobody will be coming to help you."
The eyes of each prisoner widened as the guard's face unexplainably changed shape. A few gasped when the red light reflected off the skull that doubled as the assassin's face. "Just so we get it out of the way," the Scourge stated grimly, "justice is served."
Back to GatefoldIssue #19 by Chris Munn
A VULGAR DISPLAY OF POWER |
On the lower East Side of Manhattan sat Sal's Bar, not the nicest place in the city to visit. Frequented by a clientele of the unseemly variety, Sal's also goes by another moniker: The Bar With No Name.
"So just how the hell did you get in here?" Abe Jenkins asked the young girl in the seat across from him, a smirk plastered across his face. The girl, her normally short-cropped black hair now grown down to her shoulders, flipped up her middle finger, answering with a smirk of her own.
"Fake ID," Hallie Takahama stated, taking a sip of her mixed drink, "they work wonders these days."
"Actually, I was referring to the fact that only super-villains were allowed in here," Abe explained as he sparked up a cigarette.
"Told 'em I was Stinger," she replied. She reached across the table to his cigarette pack, taking out a stick for herself.
"Bad habit," the former Beetle commented, reaching across to give her a light, "and who the fuck is Stinger?"
"You know," she answered with a sigh, smoke rolling from her mouth, "the old Alliance of Evil? She was a mutant, could generate electricity, stuff like that."
"I'll take your word on it," Jenkins said, finishing off his first beer of the night.
"So what's up, Abe? I thought part of the agreement we made when we disbanded was, well, that I wouldn't see any of you guys again?"
"That's just the thing, Hallie," Abe stated, "I wasn't there when the Thunderbolts disbanded."
"Get out," she laughed, "'cause I distinctly remember you being one of the biggest supporters of the idea."
"The MACH-1 that was there, shit, it wasn't me. I've been in prison ever since Hawkeye made me turn myself in. Got out a few weeks ago."
Hallie eyed her former teammate, not sure what to say about his revelation. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"As a heart attack."
"But, I saw you, erm, him, without his helmet on. It was YOU, man."
"Look, I just met the guy last week. He's hanging with Missy and Karla and calling himself me. That's not gonna fly. Maybe the guy's a robot...or a shape-shifter, lord knows there's a ton of those guys in our chosen profession."
Jolt said nothing, opting instead to simply stare at her companion between sips of her drink. "Okay, let's cut to the chase, Abe," she said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence, "what exactly do you want?"
"I want," he paused to correct himself, "I NEED to know. What happened to the Thunderbolts while I was in prison?"
Hallie sighed heavily.
# # # # # # # # # #
"Welcome, Agent Crass," Dr. Benton said with a timid smile, "to the Womb."
Agent Warren Crass eyed the frizzy-haired scientist before allowing his gaze to wander across the vast lab-slash-holding facility that rested thirteen floors beneath the surface of the Vault. Several hardened super-criminals rested in tiny cells along the walls of the laboratory, flanking a large chamber in the middle of the room. Sitting at a computer terminal directly in front of the chamber were two men in lab coats, though calling either a "man" was almost took a stretch of one's imagination. This was the control center for the Commission on Superhuman Activities' Enemy Rehabilitation and Mobilization Division, Crass' own brainchild.
"I'm not impressed," Crass spat out, his stare returning to the reserved Dr. Benton.
"Please, before you start making any conclusions," the scientist stammered, "let me introduce you to our brain trust." Following the Commission agent's nod of approval, Benton hopped down the three stairs into the bay of the laboratory, snapping his fingers at the two workers sitting at the terminals. "Agent Crass, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Sun and Dr. Morbius, the head researchers behind the E.R.M.D."
"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Crass," the thin, almost sickly Michael Morbius said with a hospitable smile, "we've been hearing your name in whispers down here." Dr. Sun, however, was unable to show an expression of greeting, as the head of his cyborg body was nothing but a brain enclosed in a glass dome.
"Just remember, Doctor," Crass replied with a glare, "that in this case, the walls have eyes and ears. Benton here's been talking this place up for the past few weeks, so I'm here to check out where the taxpayer dollars are going."
"You would be, since you're the one that's forced us down here," Sun's digitized voice clicked out, the yellow fingers of the robot scraping together slowly.
"Excuse Dr. Sun, Agent," Benton said nervously, "he's still a little bitter at the situation. Reed Richards found him trapped in a file loop in the Baxter Building's computer system, where he'd apparently been trapped for the last few years. How he survived the Baxter's destruction a few years ago is beyond me, and he's not been very forthcoming in answers..."
"The Living Vampire is most excited to be working for such an ambitious project, Mr. Crass," Morbius said, his voice slightly strained from the exertion of standing and walking.
"Vampire...now I remember where I've heard that name," Crass admitted. "You need blood to survive, right?"
"Dr. Morbius isn't here as a prisoner, Agent Crass," Benton broke in, "rather as a volunteer to the project. He's hoping that the procedures we're developing here will be able to help Michael with his illness."
"That all depends on what you boys manage to shit out for us," another voice stated from the laboratory's doorway. Henry Peter Gyrich, head of Vault security, strolled leisurely down the short staircase, patting Crass on the shoulder after approaching the group. "Didn't think you could sneak in here without me knowing, did you?"
"Would've been nice," Crass commented as he walked toward the center chamber. Taking a peek through the glass window in the chamber door, his brow twisted curiously at the creature inside. Though in the shape of what appeared to be a humanoid pterodactyl, the being was composed entirely of organic circuitry. "What the fuck is that?"
"What it used to be," Doctor Sun buzzed, his robotic voice keeping a completely monotone level, "was a mutant terrorist named Sauron. He was devoured by a flock of ravenous, extra-terrestrial, robotic birds...all that was left for the recovery team was a few odd bones here and there."
"Then how the fuck do you explain what's in that room?" Crass continued to question, his gaze still locked on the bizarre creature.
"The aliens that supped of his flesh were comprised of a form of living circuitry, Mr. Crass," Morbius stated, continuing the explanation from his partner, "circuitry that can apparently infect humanoid tissue, transforming it into an amalgamation of man and machine. This was the process that was being performed on Sauron's remains...we simply sped things up quite a bit."
"So we've got a six foot tall robotic dinosaur," Crass mumbled, finally tearing himself away from the monster held in the containment unit, "just great."
"Although Sauron's coming along nicely," Benton stated, "we're having a bit more of a problem with two more of our candidates."
"Which two?" Crass asked in frustration.
"Typhoid and the Abomination. Neither are very willing to comply with their new status."
"Trouble already, eh Crass?" Gyrich asked with a smirk, pushing his wide-rimmed glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
"Shut the fuck up, Henry," Crass ordered, "you wouldn't even know about this little project if I hadn't decided to fill you in."
"I know everything that goes on in my Vault, Warren," Gyrich stated coldly. "Everything."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Oh my god, please, don't kill me." Alan Fagan was on his hands and knees, pleading for his life, in the small cell that he'd occupied for so long. To his misfortune, Fagan's cell sat directly across from the executed Chemistro, and a person out of every villain's nightmares was now bearing down on him, pistol in hand.
"Do you know who I am?" the Scourge asked, the light from the laser beams casting him in a hellish glow.
"Turn off these fucking lasers!" a female voice yelled from down the hall. "I'll make yer new name into 'Corpse'!"
"Answer my question," the murderer continued, ignoring the woman's statement.
"You..." Fagan stuttered, "you're the Scourge."
"That's right. What do I do to people like you, Alan?"
"You kill us," the villain answered, tears streaming down his face.
"For a guy named Mr. Fear," the Scourge remarked as he fired several rounds into Fagan's cell, "you're a fucking joke."
"Hey man," another voice, this one male, addressed the killer from his cell, "I don't know you, or what problem you've got with those two you just aced. What the fuck do you want?"
The Scourge smiled as he turned toward the prisoner, smoke filtering upward from the barrel of his gun. "Dominic Petros," he stated, "Avalanche, correct?"
The man in the cell nodded in confirmation.
"I have a deal for you, Mr. Petros," the murderer began, "and for the rest of you as well. There's a man in this building that I'm sure you all know very well, one that I've vowed vengeance upon."
"Who's that?" Petros asked.
"Henry Gyrich is his name. I am here to request your assistance in revenging myself against him."
"What about those two sacks of shit you just shot?" the female voice down the hall asked. The Scourge widened his grin.
"Fagan and Morton were as useless in life as they are now in death," the skull-faced one answered, "and their services to me have been concluded. Again I ask, will you agree to assist my cause?"
Avalanche remained silent for a moment. "Yeah, sure," he finally agreed, "Gyrich's a bastard anyway."
"Excellent." The Scourge then raised his pistol, firing several rounds into Petros' chest. "I appreciate your compliance."
# # # # # # # # # #
"We'd only been in the old V-Battalion base for a week, maybe two," Hallie began, commanding Abe's full attention, "after Dallas promised us we'd be safe. Boy, was she wrong."
Abe remained silent, despite his wish to interject with questions. Jolt took a sip of her drink before continuing. "So, we all knew the guy had been after us for a while, after the whole Man-Beast fiasco. What we didn't know was, that ever since that fight, one of our own was providing him with information on our whereabouts. He closed in on us pretty easily, with us none the wiser."
"You mean one of the Thunderbolts betrayed you?" Abe finally interrupted. "Please tell me you weren't surprised. We were the Masters of fucking Evil, girl."
"I know, I know," she admitted with a weak smile, "I should'a seen it coming a mile away. But I didn't, and, well, hey...at least I got away, right?"
"Do you know who it was that ratted you out?" Abe asked, his eyes catching the sight of a table full of people on the other side of the bar, each of them staring a hole through Hallie's back.
"It was pretty obvious," Jolt replied, "when she disappeared right before we got hit."
"...She?" Abe asked, choosing to ignore their voyeurs for the moment.
"Narrows it down, huh?" she teased. "Karla betrayed us, Abe. She ran off and didn't even warn us."
"Actually, that does explain one question I had," he admitted, leaning back in his seat as he spoke. "When Moonstone showed up at Hammer's base last week, she didn't exactly get the warmest reception from Missy or my double."
"I'm surprised they didn't take her out right there."
"Well, she was saving them from an ass-kicking by the Avengers," he said with a slight laugh.
"So anyway," she continued, "we're all hanging out in the HQ, enjoying a little downtime. Karla had vanished a bit before the hit came, but none of us noticed until later. These guys with guns stormed the base from every entrance, cutting off all our ways of escape. We handled them okay, until the men in the armor came in."
"Armor?" Abe asked, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"These huge yellow suits," Jolt said softly, "powerful as all get out. They took Charcoal down within a matter of minutes. That's when the rest of us ran."
"Mandroids," Jenkins commented, "they're called Mandroids. Government issued super-hero killers."
"The guy in charge of 'em was intense...like scary intense. Red hair, glasses, this look of burning hatred in his eyes. He was worse than the Mandroids."
Abe's glass shattered in his hand, causing Hallie to jump in surprise. "Finish the story," he ordered, wiping the blood from the cuts on his hands onto his pants.
"We gathered back in the base's hangar, the only exit the soldiers had failed to secure. We all knew it was the government, probably some branch of the Commission, that had sent the troops after us. She-Hulk promised to get us legal aid, but we weren't real concerned with that at the time. We just knew we had to get out, we had to hide. I don't remember who came up with the idea of splitting up, but the decision was made pretty quickly once the Mandroids started beating in the doors. We all managed to escape, as far as I know. You're the first one I've talked to since it happened."
"Not quite, remember."
"She-Hulk and Lightning, I'm not real worried about. They're Avengers, I'm sure they haven't had any problems. I don't know why they hung out with us in the first place, really. It's Charlie that I'm worried about. Those guys grabbed him, and only God knows what's happened to him."
"I know somebody that can tell us," Abe said, his voice seething with anger, "because the man you described is the one that released me from prison?"
Hallie's eyes lifted from the table, a look of confusion on her face. "You mean that's...?"
"Henry Peter Gyrich," he spat out, "that son of a bitch is as good as fucking dead."
# # # # # # # # # #
Bullets tore through the flesh of the green-skinned villain named Half-Life, just as they had the criminals known as Baron Brimstone and Aqueduct moments earlier. The Scourge was silent, no more speeches or taunts coming from his lips as he went about his grim business. The remaining four inmates yelled at the top of their lungs, desperate for somebody to rescue them from their fate.
The vigilante stepped to the next cell, his black eye sockets staring a hole through the man seated within. The prisoner said nothing, made no move to protect himself or to protest the inevitable...he simply returned the Scourge's stare, matching the killer's hatred with his own. "You," the Scourge said, wagging his pistol at the unintimidated inmate, "I'll get back to you."
"David Canon," the skull began, moving on to the next victim, "the fearsome Whirlwind. We met once, a lifetime ago. I was somebody else, you...well, you're still the same sack of shit you were then."
"Man, I don't know who the fuck you are," Canon stated, though fully aware of the futility of his pleas, "don't guess there's any way I can talk you out of this?"
"Unfortunately not," the Scourge stated, once again pulling his gun's trigger, ending the Whirlwind's life, "I can't even stop myself."
"Come over here, I'll stop your ass!" The killer turned slightly, his attention captured by the booming voice of the only female on the block. The 6'6'' form of Mary McPherran lunged forward, though there was no fear of her escaping her cell. The Scourge wasted no time in confronting her threat, firing off three armor-piercing rounds at the woman's chest. To his consternation, the bullets simply bounced off.
"Yeah, fuck YOU, skull man!" Titania shouted, extending her middle finger into the air.
"Looks like you ain't gonna take us ALL down," another prisoner said, occupying the cell across from Titania. Max Dillon, otherwise known as Electro, clapped his hands in amusement. The Scourge didn't even turn to face him as he raised the gun to his right, executing the villain with barely a notice.
"Didn't like him anyway," McPherran commented.
"My dear," the murderer stated, placing his skeletal visage to the laser grid behind which she stood, "this appears to be your lucky day."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Ms. Walker, Mr. Blonski," Agent Crass addressed, his back turned to the two people in the cells behind him, "this failure to cooperate has put me in an unfortunate position. One the one hand, you two are human beings, capable of voicing your God-given right to free choice. On the other hand, you two freaks aren't human beings any more, are you?"
"So authoritative," Typhoid Mary cooed, her prison uniform cut and ripped into a most provocative outfit, "you're getting me hot, baby."
"Shut the fuck up, Walker," Crass ordered. "And you, my Abomination," he said, turning toward the hulking green form of Emil Blonski, "do you really want to go back to the experiment section of this facility? I am still curious as to whether a concentrated enough laser can penetrate that leather hide of yours."
"We don't like being guinea pigs, man," the Abomination grunted, his deep voice reverberating in the steel that surrounded him.
"Too bad for you," Crass replied with a wink, "you don't have a choice in the matter."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Can we help you, pal?" Abe asked, lifting his eyes to look at the muscular gentleman that was standing at their table. Waves of crimson flame pulsed from his bare arms, though the leather vest wrapped around his torso should no signs of heat damage.
"We been watchin' you two all night," the stranger began, eyeing both Abe and Hallie curiously, "and we wanna know what the FUCK you think you're doin', comin' into OUR bar?"
"You know this guy?" Jenkins asked, moving his eyes toward his female companion. Jolt simply shrugged and shook her head.
"Name's Infernal, Beetle-boy," the stranger stated as he slammed his fist down on the table, "and you ain't gonna muscle in on our turf! The name's OURS now!"
"Man, I seriously don't know - or care - about what you're rambling about," Abe stood from the table, pulling down on the collars of his leather jacket, "but I'm also not one to put up with being bossed around, especially by somebody that still calls me the fucking Beetle."
Infernal said nothing, instead he turned toward the table in the corner of the bar, the same one that Abe had noted earlier. After pointing to the table, the newcomer smiled at the former MACH-1. "Have a drink with us, asshole."
Jenkins sighed as he leaned down, close to Hallie's face. "If shit starts going down, you beat feet outta here. Got it?" Hallie nodded in agreement, though reluctant to play the damsel in distress.
"Yo, Sharpe," the flame-maker stated as he and Abe approached the table, "look who it is. The mother fucking Beetle."
Abe quickly took the measure of the group. Eight in total, counting the still-standing Infernal...six men, two women. "Infernal, please, don't be so rude," the one named Sharpe reprimanded as he pushed a seat in Abe's direction, "please, sit with us."
"You the leader of this bunch?" Jenkins asked as he sat down, sparking a cigarette after speaking.
"No, not hardly," Sharpe, who looked more like a lawyer than a criminal, dressed in a full business suit, answered with a smile. He pointed at the man in the far corner of the table. "That's our leader. The Silencer. He's mute, so I speak for him."
"You have a leader," Abe reiterated, attempting to stifle his desire to laugh, "that can't talk? Oh, that's precious."
"His suit nullifies all sound in his personal space, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe said, the smile disappearing from his face, "hence, the name. He once defeated the Avenger, Hawkeye. He's our inspiration."
"Inspiration for what?" Jenkins asked, standing from the table in frustration. "Look, what do you guys want from me? I'm not in the crime racket any more."
"You're part of our legacy, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe said, the smile having returned.
"Legacy?"
"We're the Masters of Evil."
Abe's jaw dropped at the sound of a name he thought he'd never hear again. "I'd pick another name, pal. Alliance of Evil is open, last time I checked. Sinister Syndicate's good one, just a bad stigma involved. The Masters, though? Big fucking shoes to fill."
"That's why we need you, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe explained, nodding at Infernal, "we need you to help us sustain the legacy. We need you to teach us what it means to be the Masters of Evil..."
# # # # # # # # # #
"I told you I'd get back to you..." The Scourge took a seat on the floor, directly in front of the man in the cell. The prisoner still said nothing, yet he still retained the hate-filled stare he'd displayed the first time the killer had made his way past.
"You're Stan Carter," the assassin stated grimly, talking more to himself than to the other man, "the Sin-Eater."
"What you're doing," Carter said quietly, "is right. Don't let anyone tell you differently. We're brothers."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," the Scourge responded, a hint of remorse in his voice, "because I can't help myself. I'm compelled to do this, by something that was done to me. Something Gyrich did to me."
"Finish your mission," the Sin-Eater stated calmly, closing his eyes.
The Scourge said nothing as he pulled the trigger.
# # # # # # # # # #
Hallie twirled the straw on her fourth mixed drink, the alcohol finally beginning to make her a bit light-headed. Abe had been sitting at the strange group's table for almost an hour, with no concern for her well being. She wasn't surprised, mind you, just bored.
"Hallie," Abe said from behind her, returned to her while the rest of the Masters of Evil gathered their belongings, "I've gotta run. Business to take care of, with a certain red-haired government agent. These guys are gonna help me in exchange for some super-villain pointers. You gonna be okay on your own?"
"I've survived this long, haven't I?" she answered with a smile. "Take care of yourself, Abe. I'm sure I'll see you around."
Jenkins returned the smile, waving as he and the rest of his newfound friends exited the bar. Hallie returned to stirring her drink, and a few moments later a stranger approached her.
"You're Jolt, aren't you?" the man asked.
"Stinger, Alliance of Evil," she commented, her focus still on her drink.
"Can't bullshit a bullshitter," the stranger said as he moved around to the empty chair across from her, "mind if I sit down?"
"Free country," she said, waving a hand at the empty space. When he sat down, her breath was taken away. Across from her was one of the most beautiful specimens of man that she'd ever laid eyes upon, his sandy blond hair hanging in front of his face in meticulously combed waves. She almost blushed.
"I know you're Jolt," he admitted with a smile, "but it's cool, I won't rat you out. I like super-heroes, personally."
"Well, you know me," she stated, returning his smile, "what's your name?"
"Keeping with this place's motif," he answered, "is a code-name good enough for now?"
"Sure."
The stranger winked at her. "Call me Ladykiller."
# # # # # # # # # #
"I think...I'm gonna be...sick."
A gathering of men, some in regular Vault uniforms and others in the special Guardsmen armor systems, stood outside the entrance to Cellblock 15. The blood from the individual cells had leaked into the hall, covering the floor in a deep crimson. The guards were stunned, speechless for quite a few moments.
"We found Jimmy and Ted at their post," one of the Guardsmen stated, "they'd been shot. All surveillance of this block was disabled. Whoever did this had all night, guys."
"Wait a minute," one of the plain-clothes guards began, shining his flashlight on the back wall of the cellblock, "tell me there's not something written on that wall." Written in the blood of the ten executed prisoners, was a grim message.
HENRY GYRICH
JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED
I'M COMING FOR YOU
THE SCOURGE
"Hey!" a voice shouted from one of the darkened cells. The guards turned in unison, training all of their flashlights and weapons on the one person to escape the carnage unscathed. Titania leaned up against the wall, trying to avoid the blood that was slowly oozing into her cell. "Somebody wanna get me the fuck OUTTA HERE?"
# # # # # # # # # #
He enjoyed working in the dark, with only the faint glow of the computer monitors to provide him with a source of light. Considering his vampiric affliction, Michael Morbius more or less had no choice but to adjust to a life of darkness. Now, working in silence and solitude, the former biologist could work in peace.
He mentally noted the way the techno-organic Sauron shrugged off the burns made by his cell's automated laser scalpel. He'd become, for lack of a better term, indestructible. Morbius hesitated for a moment, pausing in his work as a fleeting though passed through his mind. Perhaps the process that brought the mutant back from the grave would be effective in curing his own vampiric disorder? The doctor pushed the thought from his mind as he watched the cybernetic pterodactioid write in mute anger at his captivity, deciding that his humanity, no matter how diluted by his condition, was still too precious to retain.
"The Living Vampire is curious," he mumbled to himself as he closed the shutters to Sauron's chamber, "at how any of this could be considered humane."
Without warning, Morbius felt hands upon his shoulders, as two large men pulled from his chair. He attempted a struggle, but it had been too long since he'd fed, and his strength was not at its peak. The men slammed his face down into the keyboard of his workstation, the force coming close to breaking one of his fangs. "Who are you people?" he asked in desperation as he strained to see his attackers. "What do you want with me?"
"It's not humane, what we're doing here," a familiar voice said from the lab's small staircase, coming closer with a slow, deliberate pace, "but it's for the good of the fucking country, Doctor."
Morbius' yellow eyes widened as the voice came into view, a large hypodermic needle in his hand. Agent Crass smiled the Devil's grin as he approached the panicked vampire, whose enhanced strength couldn't budge the two men holding him. "Mr. Crass, I'm a volunteer on this project! You cannot treat me in such ways!"
"Fuck you, Mike," Crass remarked as he jabbed the needle into the base of Morbius' neck, the clear liquid slowly flowing out of the vial and into his body, "and welcome to the program."
# # # # # # # # # #
NEXT ISSUE: Abe and the new Masters of Evil take the fight to the doorstep of the Vault, looking for the answers that only Henry Gyrich can give them, only to find the Scourge lying in wait! Who is the Scourge, and what drove him to start his homicidal mission? Find out next issue, in a story appropriately entitled "Answering Machines"!
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
AOL has been kind to me this month, since it's yet to crash and delete all of my saved e-mails like last month. We got two new letters this time, one from Force Works writer extra-ordinare, David Ingram, and a review from Brent "Avengers" Lambert! Forsooth!
As I have said before given the quality of your work, I feel the need to stop being a greedy bastard and give you some feedback. I have a copy of the feedback I sent you for 17, so...
Rock! Yeah, blame AOL. Bah.
I've been reading your Thunderbolts and have to say I am enjoying the hell out of it. So, I decided to stop being a greedy bastard and actually give some feed back.
Normally, when a writer does a twelve month gap like thingy, it's almost always annoying to figure out what's going on because the writer themselves only has a slight idea about what's going on. Not here, and I love that. I can't wait to see what exactly happened to the old Thunderbolts (though I am fearful for the fates of She-Hulk, LL,and the other non villianous members, hope they all didn't snuff it. Except Orge, who cares about him?)
Well, as you've all seen in this issue, the mystery of the Tbolts gap is a mystery no longer. She-Hulk is indeed alive and kicking in the pages of Fantastic Four, but the jury is out on the other characters. Will we ever see poor Living Lightning, Ogre, and Charcoal again? Who knows?
The new Thunderbolts rock too. A powerful and diverse team with tons of potenial. I'm glad someone finally had the idea to put Moonstone on the same team as a complete wacko, AKA Gladiator. Plantman's a character that been overlooked for far too long, and deserves some spotlight. Volcana seems like an odd choice, though. She's powerful, but I thought she retired. Didn't she clean Moonstone's clock once, as well? The character that I'm looking forward to reading about the most is Splice, though. The perspective of a professional hitman, who got where he is by skill, working alongside a bunch of guys who just got powers one fine day holds promise. All in all, this book is shaping up to be one of my favorites. Keep up the good work!
I don't know if I'd call Gladiator a complete whacko. I mean, he DID manage to go a substantial amount of time as a truly reformed person, which is more than most villains can say. However, as you saw last issue, Splice is now taking an extended dirt nap. Thanks for the letter (part 1)!
And now onto issue 18
God damn you. It's people like you, Alex Cook , Moo and Russ Anderson who raise the bar for every other writer out there. Damn you!
*shakes fists in furious anger. then eagerly awaits the next book by Cook, Moo, Munn and Anderson*
Damn me! And them, too! Especially Cookie...oh, how I HAAAATE that guy.
What I liked: The new Thunderbolts. The kick ass action, the great characterization of EVERYONE. Captain America kicked all kinds of ass, as well he should. The Hawkeye vs. Moonstone, vs. Captain America, Gladiator's return to crime (I hope there's a story behind that), Taproot (what the hell is that?) vs. Airstrike, the return of Goliath at the PERFECT moment, and a Scourge that's actually worth something in a fight. So, the Thunderbolts are relocating on the west coast, eh? So, they're going up against the Champions next, right? ;)
To be honest, I was totally surprised at how much fun Captain America actually was to write! In order: Gladiator's return to crime will be addressed soon, a taproot is the main branching root in a tree's circulatory system, and as you've seen this issue, Scourge prefers to NOT fight for his kills.
What I didn't like: Well, nothing really. Shame to see Splice go, but there are dozens of 'pro' villains out there, so no real loss. I normally don't like to see long time villains die like the Controller, but what's he ever done besides control someone? Not much of a loss, IMO, and it showed very powerfully that no one is safe. Since writers are their harshest critics, just add something here and we'll be good ;) I think you've done what every writer should aim for. You didn't give me the story I asked for, you gave me a story I wanted, I just didn't know it until I read it.
Alas, poor Splice...we hardly knew ye.
Thanks, David! Now, on to Brent's review! Yea, verily!
THE GOOD: The new T-Bolts team kicks some serious butt though I'm not sure just how powerful they might be. Moonstone at least gets to kick some Clint bootie for a sec, which was a cool scene considering how Hawk left the team back in Marvel Fanfare #2 (M2K continuity). I also like the mystery Chris throws at you in this title. You have the mystery surrounding Mr. White, the mystery involving Justin Hammer, the mystery of how the old T-bolts broke up. There is just so much to explore.
The Moonstone/Hawkeye ass-kicking scene was actually my favorite out of the whole issue. As for all the myraid of mysteries building up in the book, expect answers to quite a few of them over the next two issues.
THE BAD: I didn't know who all of the new T-Bolts were exactly so a little more of an explanation behind some of them might have helped me to like the issue better. A minor complaint though since it barely detracted from the story any.
Yeah, I'd have liked to have touched more on the new Tbolts (like Volcana, who I think got mentioned maybe ONCE, lol), but the issue was running so long and was already three months late...so yeah, I just couldn't fit it in. Issue # 21 is gonna slow the pace down a lot, though, and give proper introductions to all the new cast members I've added with this arc.
OVERALL: M2K's best series at the moment with Avengers West Coast catching up quickly. Read this title people.
Thanks Brent, the praise is much appreciated! Now, everybody go read Avengers and Force Works...right now! OATH!
Chris Munn
06/06/03
BIBLIOGRAPHY- The Thunderbolts defeated the Man-Beast in Thunderbolts # 9, and relocated to the V-Battallion's base in Thunderbolts # 12.
- Sauron was devoured by the Phalanx in X-Men Omega # 39.
- Since the disbanding of the Thunderbolts, She-Hulk has since appeared in Fantastic Four # 35-36. The status of the Living Lightning is, as of yet, unknown.
"So just how the hell did you get in here?" Abe Jenkins asked the young girl in the seat across from him, a smirk plastered across his face. The girl, her normally short-cropped black hair now grown down to her shoulders, flipped up her middle finger, answering with a smirk of her own.
"Fake ID," Hallie Takahama stated, taking a sip of her mixed drink, "they work wonders these days."
"Actually, I was referring to the fact that only super-villains were allowed in here," Abe explained as he sparked up a cigarette.
"Told 'em I was Stinger," she replied. She reached across the table to his cigarette pack, taking out a stick for herself.
"Bad habit," the former Beetle commented, reaching across to give her a light, "and who the fuck is Stinger?"
"You know," she answered with a sigh, smoke rolling from her mouth, "the old Alliance of Evil? She was a mutant, could generate electricity, stuff like that."
"I'll take your word on it," Jenkins said, finishing off his first beer of the night.
"So what's up, Abe? I thought part of the agreement we made when we disbanded was, well, that I wouldn't see any of you guys again?"
"That's just the thing, Hallie," Abe stated, "I wasn't there when the Thunderbolts disbanded."
"Get out," she laughed, "'cause I distinctly remember you being one of the biggest supporters of the idea."
"The MACH-1 that was there, shit, it wasn't me. I've been in prison ever since Hawkeye made me turn myself in. Got out a few weeks ago."
Hallie eyed her former teammate, not sure what to say about his revelation. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"As a heart attack."
"But, I saw you, erm, him, without his helmet on. It was YOU, man."
"Look, I just met the guy last week. He's hanging with Missy and Karla and calling himself me. That's not gonna fly. Maybe the guy's a robot...or a shape-shifter, lord knows there's a ton of those guys in our chosen profession."
Jolt said nothing, opting instead to simply stare at her companion between sips of her drink. "Okay, let's cut to the chase, Abe," she said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence, "what exactly do you want?"
"I want," he paused to correct himself, "I NEED to know. What happened to the Thunderbolts while I was in prison?"
Hallie sighed heavily.
# # # # # # # # # #
"Welcome, Agent Crass," Dr. Benton said with a timid smile, "to the Womb."
Agent Warren Crass eyed the frizzy-haired scientist before allowing his gaze to wander across the vast lab-slash-holding facility that rested thirteen floors beneath the surface of the Vault. Several hardened super-criminals rested in tiny cells along the walls of the laboratory, flanking a large chamber in the middle of the room. Sitting at a computer terminal directly in front of the chamber were two men in lab coats, though calling either a "man" was almost took a stretch of one's imagination. This was the control center for the Commission on Superhuman Activities' Enemy Rehabilitation and Mobilization Division, Crass' own brainchild.
"I'm not impressed," Crass spat out, his stare returning to the reserved Dr. Benton.
"Please, before you start making any conclusions," the scientist stammered, "let me introduce you to our brain trust." Following the Commission agent's nod of approval, Benton hopped down the three stairs into the bay of the laboratory, snapping his fingers at the two workers sitting at the terminals. "Agent Crass, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Sun and Dr. Morbius, the head researchers behind the E.R.M.D."
"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Crass," the thin, almost sickly Michael Morbius said with a hospitable smile, "we've been hearing your name in whispers down here." Dr. Sun, however, was unable to show an expression of greeting, as the head of his cyborg body was nothing but a brain enclosed in a glass dome.
"Just remember, Doctor," Crass replied with a glare, "that in this case, the walls have eyes and ears. Benton here's been talking this place up for the past few weeks, so I'm here to check out where the taxpayer dollars are going."
"You would be, since you're the one that's forced us down here," Sun's digitized voice clicked out, the yellow fingers of the robot scraping together slowly.
"Excuse Dr. Sun, Agent," Benton said nervously, "he's still a little bitter at the situation. Reed Richards found him trapped in a file loop in the Baxter Building's computer system, where he'd apparently been trapped for the last few years. How he survived the Baxter's destruction a few years ago is beyond me, and he's not been very forthcoming in answers..."
"The Living Vampire is most excited to be working for such an ambitious project, Mr. Crass," Morbius said, his voice slightly strained from the exertion of standing and walking.
"Vampire...now I remember where I've heard that name," Crass admitted. "You need blood to survive, right?"
"Dr. Morbius isn't here as a prisoner, Agent Crass," Benton broke in, "rather as a volunteer to the project. He's hoping that the procedures we're developing here will be able to help Michael with his illness."
"That all depends on what you boys manage to shit out for us," another voice stated from the laboratory's doorway. Henry Peter Gyrich, head of Vault security, strolled leisurely down the short staircase, patting Crass on the shoulder after approaching the group. "Didn't think you could sneak in here without me knowing, did you?"
"Would've been nice," Crass commented as he walked toward the center chamber. Taking a peek through the glass window in the chamber door, his brow twisted curiously at the creature inside. Though in the shape of what appeared to be a humanoid pterodactyl, the being was composed entirely of organic circuitry. "What the fuck is that?"
"What it used to be," Doctor Sun buzzed, his robotic voice keeping a completely monotone level, "was a mutant terrorist named Sauron. He was devoured by a flock of ravenous, extra-terrestrial, robotic birds...all that was left for the recovery team was a few odd bones here and there."
"Then how the fuck do you explain what's in that room?" Crass continued to question, his gaze still locked on the bizarre creature.
"The aliens that supped of his flesh were comprised of a form of living circuitry, Mr. Crass," Morbius stated, continuing the explanation from his partner, "circuitry that can apparently infect humanoid tissue, transforming it into an amalgamation of man and machine. This was the process that was being performed on Sauron's remains...we simply sped things up quite a bit."
"So we've got a six foot tall robotic dinosaur," Crass mumbled, finally tearing himself away from the monster held in the containment unit, "just great."
"Although Sauron's coming along nicely," Benton stated, "we're having a bit more of a problem with two more of our candidates."
"Which two?" Crass asked in frustration.
"Typhoid and the Abomination. Neither are very willing to comply with their new status."
"Trouble already, eh Crass?" Gyrich asked with a smirk, pushing his wide-rimmed glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
"Shut the fuck up, Henry," Crass ordered, "you wouldn't even know about this little project if I hadn't decided to fill you in."
"I know everything that goes on in my Vault, Warren," Gyrich stated coldly. "Everything."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Oh my god, please, don't kill me." Alan Fagan was on his hands and knees, pleading for his life, in the small cell that he'd occupied for so long. To his misfortune, Fagan's cell sat directly across from the executed Chemistro, and a person out of every villain's nightmares was now bearing down on him, pistol in hand.
"Do you know who I am?" the Scourge asked, the light from the laser beams casting him in a hellish glow.
"Turn off these fucking lasers!" a female voice yelled from down the hall. "I'll make yer new name into 'Corpse'!"
"Answer my question," the murderer continued, ignoring the woman's statement.
"You..." Fagan stuttered, "you're the Scourge."
"That's right. What do I do to people like you, Alan?"
"You kill us," the villain answered, tears streaming down his face.
"For a guy named Mr. Fear," the Scourge remarked as he fired several rounds into Fagan's cell, "you're a fucking joke."
"Hey man," another voice, this one male, addressed the killer from his cell, "I don't know you, or what problem you've got with those two you just aced. What the fuck do you want?"
The Scourge smiled as he turned toward the prisoner, smoke filtering upward from the barrel of his gun. "Dominic Petros," he stated, "Avalanche, correct?"
The man in the cell nodded in confirmation.
"I have a deal for you, Mr. Petros," the murderer began, "and for the rest of you as well. There's a man in this building that I'm sure you all know very well, one that I've vowed vengeance upon."
"Who's that?" Petros asked.
"Henry Gyrich is his name. I am here to request your assistance in revenging myself against him."
"What about those two sacks of shit you just shot?" the female voice down the hall asked. The Scourge widened his grin.
"Fagan and Morton were as useless in life as they are now in death," the skull-faced one answered, "and their services to me have been concluded. Again I ask, will you agree to assist my cause?"
Avalanche remained silent for a moment. "Yeah, sure," he finally agreed, "Gyrich's a bastard anyway."
"Excellent." The Scourge then raised his pistol, firing several rounds into Petros' chest. "I appreciate your compliance."
# # # # # # # # # #
"We'd only been in the old V-Battalion base for a week, maybe two," Hallie began, commanding Abe's full attention, "after Dallas promised us we'd be safe. Boy, was she wrong."
Abe remained silent, despite his wish to interject with questions. Jolt took a sip of her drink before continuing. "So, we all knew the guy had been after us for a while, after the whole Man-Beast fiasco. What we didn't know was, that ever since that fight, one of our own was providing him with information on our whereabouts. He closed in on us pretty easily, with us none the wiser."
"You mean one of the Thunderbolts betrayed you?" Abe finally interrupted. "Please tell me you weren't surprised. We were the Masters of fucking Evil, girl."
"I know, I know," she admitted with a weak smile, "I should'a seen it coming a mile away. But I didn't, and, well, hey...at least I got away, right?"
"Do you know who it was that ratted you out?" Abe asked, his eyes catching the sight of a table full of people on the other side of the bar, each of them staring a hole through Hallie's back.
"It was pretty obvious," Jolt replied, "when she disappeared right before we got hit."
"...She?" Abe asked, choosing to ignore their voyeurs for the moment.
"Narrows it down, huh?" she teased. "Karla betrayed us, Abe. She ran off and didn't even warn us."
"Actually, that does explain one question I had," he admitted, leaning back in his seat as he spoke. "When Moonstone showed up at Hammer's base last week, she didn't exactly get the warmest reception from Missy or my double."
"I'm surprised they didn't take her out right there."
"Well, she was saving them from an ass-kicking by the Avengers," he said with a slight laugh.
"So anyway," she continued, "we're all hanging out in the HQ, enjoying a little downtime. Karla had vanished a bit before the hit came, but none of us noticed until later. These guys with guns stormed the base from every entrance, cutting off all our ways of escape. We handled them okay, until the men in the armor came in."
"Armor?" Abe asked, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"These huge yellow suits," Jolt said softly, "powerful as all get out. They took Charcoal down within a matter of minutes. That's when the rest of us ran."
"Mandroids," Jenkins commented, "they're called Mandroids. Government issued super-hero killers."
"The guy in charge of 'em was intense...like scary intense. Red hair, glasses, this look of burning hatred in his eyes. He was worse than the Mandroids."
Abe's glass shattered in his hand, causing Hallie to jump in surprise. "Finish the story," he ordered, wiping the blood from the cuts on his hands onto his pants.
"We gathered back in the base's hangar, the only exit the soldiers had failed to secure. We all knew it was the government, probably some branch of the Commission, that had sent the troops after us. She-Hulk promised to get us legal aid, but we weren't real concerned with that at the time. We just knew we had to get out, we had to hide. I don't remember who came up with the idea of splitting up, but the decision was made pretty quickly once the Mandroids started beating in the doors. We all managed to escape, as far as I know. You're the first one I've talked to since it happened."
"Not quite, remember."
"She-Hulk and Lightning, I'm not real worried about. They're Avengers, I'm sure they haven't had any problems. I don't know why they hung out with us in the first place, really. It's Charlie that I'm worried about. Those guys grabbed him, and only God knows what's happened to him."
"I know somebody that can tell us," Abe said, his voice seething with anger, "because the man you described is the one that released me from prison?"
Hallie's eyes lifted from the table, a look of confusion on her face. "You mean that's...?"
"Henry Peter Gyrich," he spat out, "that son of a bitch is as good as fucking dead."
# # # # # # # # # #
Bullets tore through the flesh of the green-skinned villain named Half-Life, just as they had the criminals known as Baron Brimstone and Aqueduct moments earlier. The Scourge was silent, no more speeches or taunts coming from his lips as he went about his grim business. The remaining four inmates yelled at the top of their lungs, desperate for somebody to rescue them from their fate.
The vigilante stepped to the next cell, his black eye sockets staring a hole through the man seated within. The prisoner said nothing, made no move to protect himself or to protest the inevitable...he simply returned the Scourge's stare, matching the killer's hatred with his own. "You," the Scourge said, wagging his pistol at the unintimidated inmate, "I'll get back to you."
"David Canon," the skull began, moving on to the next victim, "the fearsome Whirlwind. We met once, a lifetime ago. I was somebody else, you...well, you're still the same sack of shit you were then."
"Man, I don't know who the fuck you are," Canon stated, though fully aware of the futility of his pleas, "don't guess there's any way I can talk you out of this?"
"Unfortunately not," the Scourge stated, once again pulling his gun's trigger, ending the Whirlwind's life, "I can't even stop myself."
"Come over here, I'll stop your ass!" The killer turned slightly, his attention captured by the booming voice of the only female on the block. The 6'6'' form of Mary McPherran lunged forward, though there was no fear of her escaping her cell. The Scourge wasted no time in confronting her threat, firing off three armor-piercing rounds at the woman's chest. To his consternation, the bullets simply bounced off.
"Yeah, fuck YOU, skull man!" Titania shouted, extending her middle finger into the air.
"Looks like you ain't gonna take us ALL down," another prisoner said, occupying the cell across from Titania. Max Dillon, otherwise known as Electro, clapped his hands in amusement. The Scourge didn't even turn to face him as he raised the gun to his right, executing the villain with barely a notice.
"Didn't like him anyway," McPherran commented.
"My dear," the murderer stated, placing his skeletal visage to the laser grid behind which she stood, "this appears to be your lucky day."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Ms. Walker, Mr. Blonski," Agent Crass addressed, his back turned to the two people in the cells behind him, "this failure to cooperate has put me in an unfortunate position. One the one hand, you two are human beings, capable of voicing your God-given right to free choice. On the other hand, you two freaks aren't human beings any more, are you?"
"So authoritative," Typhoid Mary cooed, her prison uniform cut and ripped into a most provocative outfit, "you're getting me hot, baby."
"Shut the fuck up, Walker," Crass ordered. "And you, my Abomination," he said, turning toward the hulking green form of Emil Blonski, "do you really want to go back to the experiment section of this facility? I am still curious as to whether a concentrated enough laser can penetrate that leather hide of yours."
"We don't like being guinea pigs, man," the Abomination grunted, his deep voice reverberating in the steel that surrounded him.
"Too bad for you," Crass replied with a wink, "you don't have a choice in the matter."
# # # # # # # # # #
"Can we help you, pal?" Abe asked, lifting his eyes to look at the muscular gentleman that was standing at their table. Waves of crimson flame pulsed from his bare arms, though the leather vest wrapped around his torso should no signs of heat damage.
"We been watchin' you two all night," the stranger began, eyeing both Abe and Hallie curiously, "and we wanna know what the FUCK you think you're doin', comin' into OUR bar?"
"You know this guy?" Jenkins asked, moving his eyes toward his female companion. Jolt simply shrugged and shook her head.
"Name's Infernal, Beetle-boy," the stranger stated as he slammed his fist down on the table, "and you ain't gonna muscle in on our turf! The name's OURS now!"
"Man, I seriously don't know - or care - about what you're rambling about," Abe stood from the table, pulling down on the collars of his leather jacket, "but I'm also not one to put up with being bossed around, especially by somebody that still calls me the fucking Beetle."
Infernal said nothing, instead he turned toward the table in the corner of the bar, the same one that Abe had noted earlier. After pointing to the table, the newcomer smiled at the former MACH-1. "Have a drink with us, asshole."
Jenkins sighed as he leaned down, close to Hallie's face. "If shit starts going down, you beat feet outta here. Got it?" Hallie nodded in agreement, though reluctant to play the damsel in distress.
"Yo, Sharpe," the flame-maker stated as he and Abe approached the table, "look who it is. The mother fucking Beetle."
Abe quickly took the measure of the group. Eight in total, counting the still-standing Infernal...six men, two women. "Infernal, please, don't be so rude," the one named Sharpe reprimanded as he pushed a seat in Abe's direction, "please, sit with us."
"You the leader of this bunch?" Jenkins asked as he sat down, sparking a cigarette after speaking.
"No, not hardly," Sharpe, who looked more like a lawyer than a criminal, dressed in a full business suit, answered with a smile. He pointed at the man in the far corner of the table. "That's our leader. The Silencer. He's mute, so I speak for him."
"You have a leader," Abe reiterated, attempting to stifle his desire to laugh, "that can't talk? Oh, that's precious."
"His suit nullifies all sound in his personal space, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe said, the smile disappearing from his face, "hence, the name. He once defeated the Avenger, Hawkeye. He's our inspiration."
"Inspiration for what?" Jenkins asked, standing from the table in frustration. "Look, what do you guys want from me? I'm not in the crime racket any more."
"You're part of our legacy, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe said, the smile having returned.
"Legacy?"
"We're the Masters of Evil."
Abe's jaw dropped at the sound of a name he thought he'd never hear again. "I'd pick another name, pal. Alliance of Evil is open, last time I checked. Sinister Syndicate's good one, just a bad stigma involved. The Masters, though? Big fucking shoes to fill."
"That's why we need you, Mr. Beetle," Sharpe explained, nodding at Infernal, "we need you to help us sustain the legacy. We need you to teach us what it means to be the Masters of Evil..."
# # # # # # # # # #
"I told you I'd get back to you..." The Scourge took a seat on the floor, directly in front of the man in the cell. The prisoner still said nothing, yet he still retained the hate-filled stare he'd displayed the first time the killer had made his way past.
"You're Stan Carter," the assassin stated grimly, talking more to himself than to the other man, "the Sin-Eater."
"What you're doing," Carter said quietly, "is right. Don't let anyone tell you differently. We're brothers."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," the Scourge responded, a hint of remorse in his voice, "because I can't help myself. I'm compelled to do this, by something that was done to me. Something Gyrich did to me."
"Finish your mission," the Sin-Eater stated calmly, closing his eyes.
The Scourge said nothing as he pulled the trigger.
# # # # # # # # # #
Hallie twirled the straw on her fourth mixed drink, the alcohol finally beginning to make her a bit light-headed. Abe had been sitting at the strange group's table for almost an hour, with no concern for her well being. She wasn't surprised, mind you, just bored.
"Hallie," Abe said from behind her, returned to her while the rest of the Masters of Evil gathered their belongings, "I've gotta run. Business to take care of, with a certain red-haired government agent. These guys are gonna help me in exchange for some super-villain pointers. You gonna be okay on your own?"
"I've survived this long, haven't I?" she answered with a smile. "Take care of yourself, Abe. I'm sure I'll see you around."
Jenkins returned the smile, waving as he and the rest of his newfound friends exited the bar. Hallie returned to stirring her drink, and a few moments later a stranger approached her.
"You're Jolt, aren't you?" the man asked.
"Stinger, Alliance of Evil," she commented, her focus still on her drink.
"Can't bullshit a bullshitter," the stranger said as he moved around to the empty chair across from her, "mind if I sit down?"
"Free country," she said, waving a hand at the empty space. When he sat down, her breath was taken away. Across from her was one of the most beautiful specimens of man that she'd ever laid eyes upon, his sandy blond hair hanging in front of his face in meticulously combed waves. She almost blushed.
"I know you're Jolt," he admitted with a smile, "but it's cool, I won't rat you out. I like super-heroes, personally."
"Well, you know me," she stated, returning his smile, "what's your name?"
"Keeping with this place's motif," he answered, "is a code-name good enough for now?"
"Sure."
The stranger winked at her. "Call me Ladykiller."
# # # # # # # # # #
"I think...I'm gonna be...sick."
A gathering of men, some in regular Vault uniforms and others in the special Guardsmen armor systems, stood outside the entrance to Cellblock 15. The blood from the individual cells had leaked into the hall, covering the floor in a deep crimson. The guards were stunned, speechless for quite a few moments.
"We found Jimmy and Ted at their post," one of the Guardsmen stated, "they'd been shot. All surveillance of this block was disabled. Whoever did this had all night, guys."
"Wait a minute," one of the plain-clothes guards began, shining his flashlight on the back wall of the cellblock, "tell me there's not something written on that wall." Written in the blood of the ten executed prisoners, was a grim message.
HENRY GYRICH
JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED
I'M COMING FOR YOU
THE SCOURGE
"Hey!" a voice shouted from one of the darkened cells. The guards turned in unison, training all of their flashlights and weapons on the one person to escape the carnage unscathed. Titania leaned up against the wall, trying to avoid the blood that was slowly oozing into her cell. "Somebody wanna get me the fuck OUTTA HERE?"
# # # # # # # # # #
He enjoyed working in the dark, with only the faint glow of the computer monitors to provide him with a source of light. Considering his vampiric affliction, Michael Morbius more or less had no choice but to adjust to a life of darkness. Now, working in silence and solitude, the former biologist could work in peace.
He mentally noted the way the techno-organic Sauron shrugged off the burns made by his cell's automated laser scalpel. He'd become, for lack of a better term, indestructible. Morbius hesitated for a moment, pausing in his work as a fleeting though passed through his mind. Perhaps the process that brought the mutant back from the grave would be effective in curing his own vampiric disorder? The doctor pushed the thought from his mind as he watched the cybernetic pterodactioid write in mute anger at his captivity, deciding that his humanity, no matter how diluted by his condition, was still too precious to retain.
"The Living Vampire is curious," he mumbled to himself as he closed the shutters to Sauron's chamber, "at how any of this could be considered humane."
Without warning, Morbius felt hands upon his shoulders, as two large men pulled from his chair. He attempted a struggle, but it had been too long since he'd fed, and his strength was not at its peak. The men slammed his face down into the keyboard of his workstation, the force coming close to breaking one of his fangs. "Who are you people?" he asked in desperation as he strained to see his attackers. "What do you want with me?"
"It's not humane, what we're doing here," a familiar voice said from the lab's small staircase, coming closer with a slow, deliberate pace, "but it's for the good of the fucking country, Doctor."
Morbius' yellow eyes widened as the voice came into view, a large hypodermic needle in his hand. Agent Crass smiled the Devil's grin as he approached the panicked vampire, whose enhanced strength couldn't budge the two men holding him. "Mr. Crass, I'm a volunteer on this project! You cannot treat me in such ways!"
"Fuck you, Mike," Crass remarked as he jabbed the needle into the base of Morbius' neck, the clear liquid slowly flowing out of the vial and into his body, "and welcome to the program."
# # # # # # # # # #
NEXT ISSUE: Abe and the new Masters of Evil take the fight to the doorstep of the Vault, looking for the answers that only Henry Gyrich can give them, only to find the Scourge lying in wait! Who is the Scourge, and what drove him to start his homicidal mission? Find out next issue, in a story appropriately entitled "Answering Machines"!
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
AOL has been kind to me this month, since it's yet to crash and delete all of my saved e-mails like last month. We got two new letters this time, one from Force Works writer extra-ordinare, David Ingram, and a review from Brent "Avengers" Lambert! Forsooth!
As I have said before given the quality of your work, I feel the need to stop being a greedy bastard and give you some feedback. I have a copy of the feedback I sent you for 17, so...
Rock! Yeah, blame AOL. Bah.
I've been reading your Thunderbolts and have to say I am enjoying the hell out of it. So, I decided to stop being a greedy bastard and actually give some feed back.
Normally, when a writer does a twelve month gap like thingy, it's almost always annoying to figure out what's going on because the writer themselves only has a slight idea about what's going on. Not here, and I love that. I can't wait to see what exactly happened to the old Thunderbolts (though I am fearful for the fates of She-Hulk, LL,and the other non villianous members, hope they all didn't snuff it. Except Orge, who cares about him?)
Well, as you've all seen in this issue, the mystery of the Tbolts gap is a mystery no longer. She-Hulk is indeed alive and kicking in the pages of Fantastic Four, but the jury is out on the other characters. Will we ever see poor Living Lightning, Ogre, and Charcoal again? Who knows?
The new Thunderbolts rock too. A powerful and diverse team with tons of potenial. I'm glad someone finally had the idea to put Moonstone on the same team as a complete wacko, AKA Gladiator. Plantman's a character that been overlooked for far too long, and deserves some spotlight. Volcana seems like an odd choice, though. She's powerful, but I thought she retired. Didn't she clean Moonstone's clock once, as well? The character that I'm looking forward to reading about the most is Splice, though. The perspective of a professional hitman, who got where he is by skill, working alongside a bunch of guys who just got powers one fine day holds promise. All in all, this book is shaping up to be one of my favorites. Keep up the good work!
I don't know if I'd call Gladiator a complete whacko. I mean, he DID manage to go a substantial amount of time as a truly reformed person, which is more than most villains can say. However, as you saw last issue, Splice is now taking an extended dirt nap. Thanks for the letter (part 1)!
And now onto issue 18
God damn you. It's people like you, Alex Cook , Moo and Russ Anderson who raise the bar for every other writer out there. Damn you!
*shakes fists in furious anger. then eagerly awaits the next book by Cook, Moo, Munn and Anderson*
Damn me! And them, too! Especially Cookie...oh, how I HAAAATE that guy.
What I liked: The new Thunderbolts. The kick ass action, the great characterization of EVERYONE. Captain America kicked all kinds of ass, as well he should. The Hawkeye vs. Moonstone, vs. Captain America, Gladiator's return to crime (I hope there's a story behind that), Taproot (what the hell is that?) vs. Airstrike, the return of Goliath at the PERFECT moment, and a Scourge that's actually worth something in a fight. So, the Thunderbolts are relocating on the west coast, eh? So, they're going up against the Champions next, right? ;)
To be honest, I was totally surprised at how much fun Captain America actually was to write! In order: Gladiator's return to crime will be addressed soon, a taproot is the main branching root in a tree's circulatory system, and as you've seen this issue, Scourge prefers to NOT fight for his kills.
What I didn't like: Well, nothing really. Shame to see Splice go, but there are dozens of 'pro' villains out there, so no real loss. I normally don't like to see long time villains die like the Controller, but what's he ever done besides control someone? Not much of a loss, IMO, and it showed very powerfully that no one is safe. Since writers are their harshest critics, just add something here and we'll be good ;) I think you've done what every writer should aim for. You didn't give me the story I asked for, you gave me a story I wanted, I just didn't know it until I read it.
Alas, poor Splice...we hardly knew ye.
Thanks, David! Now, on to Brent's review! Yea, verily!
THE GOOD: The new T-Bolts team kicks some serious butt though I'm not sure just how powerful they might be. Moonstone at least gets to kick some Clint bootie for a sec, which was a cool scene considering how Hawk left the team back in Marvel Fanfare #2 (M2K continuity). I also like the mystery Chris throws at you in this title. You have the mystery surrounding Mr. White, the mystery involving Justin Hammer, the mystery of how the old T-bolts broke up. There is just so much to explore.
The Moonstone/Hawkeye ass-kicking scene was actually my favorite out of the whole issue. As for all the myraid of mysteries building up in the book, expect answers to quite a few of them over the next two issues.
THE BAD: I didn't know who all of the new T-Bolts were exactly so a little more of an explanation behind some of them might have helped me to like the issue better. A minor complaint though since it barely detracted from the story any.
Yeah, I'd have liked to have touched more on the new Tbolts (like Volcana, who I think got mentioned maybe ONCE, lol), but the issue was running so long and was already three months late...so yeah, I just couldn't fit it in. Issue # 21 is gonna slow the pace down a lot, though, and give proper introductions to all the new cast members I've added with this arc.
OVERALL: M2K's best series at the moment with Avengers West Coast catching up quickly. Read this title people.
Thanks Brent, the praise is much appreciated! Now, everybody go read Avengers and Force Works...right now! OATH!
Chris Munn
06/06/03
BIBLIOGRAPHY- The Thunderbolts defeated the Man-Beast in Thunderbolts # 9, and relocated to the V-Battallion's base in Thunderbolts # 12.
- Sauron was devoured by the Phalanx in X-Men Omega # 39.
- Since the disbanding of the Thunderbolts, She-Hulk has since appeared in Fantastic Four # 35-36. The status of the Living Lightning is, as of yet, unknown.