Hammer Bay
Genosha
On the island of Genosha , nestled just off the southern tip of Africa , the way of life is set firmly in the eye of the beholder. Only a few years previous, Genosha - particularly its capitol, Hammer Bay - was the envy of the modern world. No crime, no pollution, no poverty…the nation truly lived up to its presented image as a “green and pleasant land”. Naturally, beneath the seeming perfection laid a secret that corrupted the country and everything it had supposedly stood for as a place of tolerance and peace. Genosha's prosperity had come at a terrible price, built on the back of mutant slaves that had been brainwashed and branded as “mutates”, bound to serve the state the moment their mutation became active.
And so this went, for decades, until the county's ruling party was overthrown by the mutant heroes known as the X-Men. With the civil government abolished, the nation was thrown into war, mutant against human, leaving the once beautiful isle a war zone that spelled death for whoever resided there. Then came Magneto, the self-styled Master of Magnetism and self-declared savior of mutant kind. Magneto was given Genosha by the United Nations, as a way of showing concern for a nation supported and ruled by homo superior. Unfortunately, Magneto's tenure as ruler had not produced the turnaround in violence and war that had been expected. The country is held in the grip of a madman, the violence once perpetrated by hatred now done so out of fear.
On the docks of the harbor capital, there would have once been a regiment of human Magistrates in position at all times, ready to defend their native soil against any who sought to change their way of life. Under Magneto‘s rule, however, only a few mutant sentries were left in place…for who would be so foolhardy as to attack the Master of Magnetism in his very home?
“Quiet tonight,” a devil-horned mutant remarked to his partner as he sucked softly on the cigarette held between the grooves in his hoof.
“Ah, I can still hear the bombshells going off in East End,” the partner, a squishy fellow lovingly referred to as “Shitbag” by his comrades, replied before flopping down on a broken and discarded couch that served as the dock guard station.
“It's almost unnatural, though,” the horned gentleman continued, his eyes straining as he looked across the dark waters that stretched out to the horizon, “I mean, usually we run into at least one or two stray Magistrates. I'm starting to get hungry…how can I expect to eat when the fuckers won't even come out at night anymore?”
Rubbing his gelatinous arms together, Shitbag unsuccessfully fought the shiver that ran though his body. "It's gettin' cold out, Billy," he whined, "do we really have to sit out here all night?"
"Only a few more hours left," Billy grunted, his own fur beginning to stand on end, "and I gots me a feelin' we're about to see some action."
"B-b-b-b-b-Billy," Shitbag stammered through chattering teeth, a rim of frost beginning to form on his body, "I c-c-can't m-m-move..."
"Chill out, buddy," Billy remarked as he flicked his cigarette out into the water, "I got yer back." The goat-man opened his mouth wide, a steady stream of blue flame erupting from his throat toward his partner. The increasing ice melted away easily under the intense heat, Shitbag's own jelly form immune to the flame itself.
"Interesting abilities," a voice - female, distinct pronunciation, an almost clinical detachment - said from above them. Both Genoshans swiveled their heads skyward, immediately spotting the blonde woman that floated in the air, a yellow incandescence enveloping her entire body. "But they will not help you now."
Before either mutant could speak, two individuals burst from the water behind them, taking flight to encircle their prey. The first man, clad in purple and white, released two silver boomerangs from his grasp, each one lined with a razor sharp edge. The swirling blades flew through the snickering Shitbag, passing through his near-liquid form with no pain whatsoever. The second man, clad in a set of winged armor, descended toward the two with a muffled roar of bootjets flaring behind him. The silenced guns on his wrists began to fire, but those again passed harmlessly through the now-laughing-uproariously Shitbag. Billy, on the other hand, was very susceptible to bullets, this inability forcing him to dive for cover.
"Thirty seconds in country," the glowing woman said with a mock yawn, "and I'm already bored to tears." She gave a nonchalant wave of her right hand, invoking energies unseen by the naked eye, and the no-longer-laughing Shitbag began to gurgle in pain. With a bubbling death knell, the jelly mutant burst, sending bits of goop across every inch of the dock.
"Shitty!" the fire breathing goat screamed as he stood to his feet, ready to fight the attackers to the death. He never noticed the large hands coming out of the shadows behind him, and by the time they were clamped down on the sides of his head, escape was no longer an option. With a fierce twist of his wrists, the helmeted stranger snapped Billy's neck, nearly severing his spine. No expression could be seen through his blue helmet as he allowed the dead sentry to fall to the ground.
"Jaysis, Glads," Boomerang said as he landed on the dock, followed by Moonstone and MACH-1, "mite bit o' overkill, you think?"
"My plan was a bust, Fred," the emerging Blizzard said as he placed a hand on Gladiator's shoulder, "so improvisation was a must, I guess."
"War takes no prisoners," Moonstone answered in Gladiator's defense, "and neither do we. Send the signal, Abner. Let the others know that we've arrived."
"Thunder One to Thunder Two," MACH-1 said into his helmet's radio transmitter, "we have touched down on enemy territory. Hostiles engaged and neutralized, so come in whenever you're ready."
Moonstone smiled at the sound of the transmission. There were still several hours until dawn, and if everything went according to plan the man called Magneto would never again see the light of day.
The Thunderbolts had arrived.
Genosha
On the island of Genosha , nestled just off the southern tip of Africa , the way of life is set firmly in the eye of the beholder. Only a few years previous, Genosha - particularly its capitol, Hammer Bay - was the envy of the modern world. No crime, no pollution, no poverty…the nation truly lived up to its presented image as a “green and pleasant land”. Naturally, beneath the seeming perfection laid a secret that corrupted the country and everything it had supposedly stood for as a place of tolerance and peace. Genosha's prosperity had come at a terrible price, built on the back of mutant slaves that had been brainwashed and branded as “mutates”, bound to serve the state the moment their mutation became active.
And so this went, for decades, until the county's ruling party was overthrown by the mutant heroes known as the X-Men. With the civil government abolished, the nation was thrown into war, mutant against human, leaving the once beautiful isle a war zone that spelled death for whoever resided there. Then came Magneto, the self-styled Master of Magnetism and self-declared savior of mutant kind. Magneto was given Genosha by the United Nations, as a way of showing concern for a nation supported and ruled by homo superior. Unfortunately, Magneto's tenure as ruler had not produced the turnaround in violence and war that had been expected. The country is held in the grip of a madman, the violence once perpetrated by hatred now done so out of fear.
On the docks of the harbor capital, there would have once been a regiment of human Magistrates in position at all times, ready to defend their native soil against any who sought to change their way of life. Under Magneto‘s rule, however, only a few mutant sentries were left in place…for who would be so foolhardy as to attack the Master of Magnetism in his very home?
“Quiet tonight,” a devil-horned mutant remarked to his partner as he sucked softly on the cigarette held between the grooves in his hoof.
“Ah, I can still hear the bombshells going off in East End,” the partner, a squishy fellow lovingly referred to as “Shitbag” by his comrades, replied before flopping down on a broken and discarded couch that served as the dock guard station.
“It's almost unnatural, though,” the horned gentleman continued, his eyes straining as he looked across the dark waters that stretched out to the horizon, “I mean, usually we run into at least one or two stray Magistrates. I'm starting to get hungry…how can I expect to eat when the fuckers won't even come out at night anymore?”
Rubbing his gelatinous arms together, Shitbag unsuccessfully fought the shiver that ran though his body. "It's gettin' cold out, Billy," he whined, "do we really have to sit out here all night?"
"Only a few more hours left," Billy grunted, his own fur beginning to stand on end, "and I gots me a feelin' we're about to see some action."
"B-b-b-b-b-Billy," Shitbag stammered through chattering teeth, a rim of frost beginning to form on his body, "I c-c-can't m-m-move..."
"Chill out, buddy," Billy remarked as he flicked his cigarette out into the water, "I got yer back." The goat-man opened his mouth wide, a steady stream of blue flame erupting from his throat toward his partner. The increasing ice melted away easily under the intense heat, Shitbag's own jelly form immune to the flame itself.
"Interesting abilities," a voice - female, distinct pronunciation, an almost clinical detachment - said from above them. Both Genoshans swiveled their heads skyward, immediately spotting the blonde woman that floated in the air, a yellow incandescence enveloping her entire body. "But they will not help you now."
Before either mutant could speak, two individuals burst from the water behind them, taking flight to encircle their prey. The first man, clad in purple and white, released two silver boomerangs from his grasp, each one lined with a razor sharp edge. The swirling blades flew through the snickering Shitbag, passing through his near-liquid form with no pain whatsoever. The second man, clad in a set of winged armor, descended toward the two with a muffled roar of bootjets flaring behind him. The silenced guns on his wrists began to fire, but those again passed harmlessly through the now-laughing-uproariously Shitbag. Billy, on the other hand, was very susceptible to bullets, this inability forcing him to dive for cover.
"Thirty seconds in country," the glowing woman said with a mock yawn, "and I'm already bored to tears." She gave a nonchalant wave of her right hand, invoking energies unseen by the naked eye, and the no-longer-laughing Shitbag began to gurgle in pain. With a bubbling death knell, the jelly mutant burst, sending bits of goop across every inch of the dock.
"Shitty!" the fire breathing goat screamed as he stood to his feet, ready to fight the attackers to the death. He never noticed the large hands coming out of the shadows behind him, and by the time they were clamped down on the sides of his head, escape was no longer an option. With a fierce twist of his wrists, the helmeted stranger snapped Billy's neck, nearly severing his spine. No expression could be seen through his blue helmet as he allowed the dead sentry to fall to the ground.
"Jaysis, Glads," Boomerang said as he landed on the dock, followed by Moonstone and MACH-1, "mite bit o' overkill, you think?"
"My plan was a bust, Fred," the emerging Blizzard said as he placed a hand on Gladiator's shoulder, "so improvisation was a must, I guess."
"War takes no prisoners," Moonstone answered in Gladiator's defense, "and neither do we. Send the signal, Abner. Let the others know that we've arrived."
"Thunder One to Thunder Two," MACH-1 said into his helmet's radio transmitter, "we have touched down on enemy territory. Hostiles engaged and neutralized, so come in whenever you're ready."
Moonstone smiled at the sound of the transmission. There were still several hours until dawn, and if everything went according to plan the man called Magneto would never again see the light of day.
The Thunderbolts had arrived.
Back to GatefoldIssue #22 by Chris Munn
INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH Part 1 of 2 |
Strolling through the crowded gathering place affectionately named Magda Square , Angelo Unuscione found himself deep in thought. A mutant, Angelo possessed a perpetual force shield around his body that repelled anything in a six inch radius. Once, he had gone by the name Unus the Untouchable, as a part of Magneto's Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and as a result had found himself near the end of his life. His power had been uncontrollable, eventually reaching the point where he could not ingest food or even breathe the air, as the oxygen molecules were repelled like everything else he attempted to make contact with. Despite all efforts to cure himself of his mutation, he still found himself standing before death's door. It was then, at the moment just before his death, that the survival gene encoded in his mutated DNA came into effect. A switch had been triggered, finally granting him the ability to control his repulsion field.
He could finally interact as a true human being, "untouchable" no longer other than when he wished it. Unfortunately, his personality had mirrored his physiology over the years, and he had isolated himself from any who had once cared for him. Now that his bizarre ability was under his control, he had attempted to touch the life of one he had previously shut away from him. His daughter's name was Carmilla, and she too was a mutant, the genes passed along from him to her through birth. To his dismay, after a long and desperate search, he discovered that she had unwittingly followed in her father's footsteps, becoming an Acolyte of Magneto. Her mutation had been tweaked, giving her the choice he never had...while she possessed a psionic exoskeleton around her body that she could control, she had inherited the ability to control it. She'd had the choice that he'd never been given, but she had nevertheless tread the same path as he.
That was why he had traveled to Genosha, where he had discovered Carmilla to be residing. She was the voice of council to Lord Magnus himself, the chief of his honor guard. This small force had been given an unofficial name by the residents of the mutant nation. They were the Fallen Angels, and heaven help any who crossed them.
It was because of Carmilla, and his desire to rescue her from a life that could lead only to her death, that he had betrayed his mutant brethren. It was only a matter of time before his betrayal was revealed, and as he took a long glance to the spire of Magneto's tower fortress in the heart of the Square, he wished only to see his daughter free from the mad plans of the Master of Magnetism.
"Greetings from America , Mr. Unuscione," a voice said behind him, little more than a whisper. He turned slowly, but to his surprise found no one. "Go to the adjacent alley between the administration buildings," the bodiless voice instructed, "we have plans to make."
Reluctantly, Unus complied with the voice and quickly made his way to the aforementioned alleyway. Checking back over his shoulder to make sure no one followed, his nervousness was blatantly obvious even when he turned a corner deep between the two buildings.
"A wise man once said that one should not worry about being paranoid," the voice again said, this time attached a man's body that slowly appeared from seemingly thin air, "but whether you are paranoid enough." Extending his hand, the nicely dressed man smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Unuscione. I'm Mr. White...I work for Justin Hammer."
"Finally you people arrive," Angelo said, brushing away the ghostly man's attempt at a friendly handshake, "I feel as if I've been living with a target on my forehead. I've been feeding information to Hammer for months now with hardly any word."
"Take heart, Unus," White replied, rubbing a hand through his albino white hair, "the Thunderbolts are here in force, ready to take down Magneto at a moment's notice. Are you even aware that war has been declared on the so-called mutant savior?"
"Look around you, man," Unuscione said in frustration, "this country is constantly at war with itself. Magneto takes outside threats far less seriously than he does ones from within his own house."
"Well, Angelo," White answered with a sly grin, "I think it's about time somebody made him look up and pay attention."
# # # # # # # # # #
"The first team has secured the harbor, sir, and White has made contact with Unus. How do you wish to proceed?"
Justin Hammer sat back in his leather chair, contemplating on what to do next. The interior carriage of the large stealth boat that had carried him and his Thunderbolts to just a few miles off of Genosha's coast was bathed in the glow of lights from the numerous electrical panels and computer monitors. The man sitting at the head of the computer terminal was a recent addition to the industrialist's team of mercenaries, going by the name Overrider. "Is the second team ready to deploy?" Hammer asked, crossing one leg across the other as he reclined back.
"All operatives of Thunder Two are giving the green light, sir," the Overrider replied, his voice a hollow buzz emitted from the large silver helmet that rested atop his head. "Thunder Two is comprised of Songbird, Blacklash, Taproot, Volcana, and the Killer Shrike. Shall I give the order?"
Hammer narrowed his eyes at his aide's question. "Make it so, Overrider," he finally answered as he stood from his chair, walking cane gripped in his hand. "I'm going atop to converse with our special operatives. I expect you to be ready when the time comes for your part in this plan."
"Understood, Mr. Hammer," the Overrider replied as he turned to another monitor, one in which displayed a diagnostic report of an unknown machine, "TESS and I are ready at a moment's notice."
Hammer showed no sign of affirmation as he exited the room, making his way up the small stairway to the outside of the sleek boat. A sigh of relief passed through his aged lips as he entered into the sunlight, for he knew that very soon he would be able to drop the ruse that he had recently created around his life. Hammer's wealth had always meant he was a figure in the public's eye, but after his passionate declaration of war against the terrorist Magneto and his mutant country on an American televised news conference, the elderly man had become a celebrity of sorts. He had made no public appearances since that initial television appearance, leaving the political world of the United States to speculate on the specifics of his plan. How had this war not been met by sanctions from the United Nations? How had a non-governmental business man been allowed to behave in such a way with no reprisals, effectively allowed to build his own army of superhuman criminals to serve at his beck and call? Hammer had become an enigma, a cipher, to the political analysts, and that was exactly the effect he had wanted to create.
Standing on the bow of the ship were two strangely dressed men, the cool morning wind from the ocean billowing around their bodies. The first man, his muscular body covered in a skin-tight orange and purple costume, was the alien known as Quantum, who had sworn fealty to Hammer for reasons known to none but the two of them. The second man was older and out of shape, overweight but not to the point where he was obese. Two large speakers sat atop his shoulders, connected to a metallic device strapped across his throat. He was called the Voice, whose spoken words could command even the strongest willed to do his bidding. "Good morning, gentlemen," Hammer greeted as he pulled his own coat closer to his body, the wind cutting through his weathered bones, "are you ready?"
While Quantum only gave an acknowledging nod of his head, the Voice was more vocal - no pun intended - about his concerns. "Mr. Hammer, I'm afraid the gravity of what you've asked me to do is starting to weigh heavily on my nerves. I am not a brave man, and what you're asking of me threatens to turn me into a whimpering babe."
"Calm yourself," Hammer said, his eyes narrowed into menacing slits, "allow our prey to make the first move. He will no doubt learn of the Thunderbolts presence in his city soon enough, for they are not ones adept in stealth as much as they are in savagery. When he feels the need to leave his place of refuge, that is when we will strike."
The pudgy man cleared his throat before he spoke again. "What if I cannot hold him? The man has openly defied the greatest minds on the planet. I fear I will not be strong enough."
"If you are not, then you will die...and it will be I that kills you." Hammer turned away from his minions, leaving his cryptic words hanging in the air.
# # # # # # # # # #
"Such destruction," the buzzing voice of MACH-1 muttered as he walked through the streets of Hammer Bay , his armored form covered by a large tarp draped across his body and helmet, "how do these people live like this?"
"They learned to survive, Abe," Boomerang replied, though he knew his answer was unwanted, as a cigarette dangled from his mouth, "by doing whatever it takes. These ruddy mutants are scum of the planet, so I guess they finally decided to act like they were expected to act."
"Kind of harsh, don't you think?" Blizzard interjected, staying close behind his two teammates as they made their way through the edge of the crowd in Magda Square . "These people were made into slaves by a corrupt government. How are we really any different than these muties?"
"Look at us here," Fred continued, nodding his head in the direction of MACH-1, "all of us - except for that Moonstone broad - got where we are today by relying on our normal human skills. Sure, we got fancy tricks and armored suits, but we're still just normal blokes. I can't read minds, you can't control the weather, but we still succeeded at being the one thing these poor souls never caught on to...being human."
"Shut your mouth, Meyers," Moonstone ordered as she turned back toward the three men behind her, "and keep your eyes open for White. He should be around here somewhere."
"Aye, aye, cap'n," Boomerang stated with a mocking salute.
Trailing behind the rest of the group, his helmet resting beneath his arm, was Melvin Potter, also known as the Gladiator. Once, Potter had been one of the deadliest assassins in the world, his name feared by men of all races. Unfortunately, he had also been undeniably insane, his addled mind held under the belief that he was a Roman warrior living a life in centuries past. After a particularly disastrous hit, his fragile mind snapped back into a sense of reality, when he realized that he had been living in a delusion for most of his adult life. With the help of the vigilante Daredevil and the lawyer Matt Murdock, Potter had been cleared of all crimes by reason of temporary insanity. He'd attempted to reform, relinquishing his costumed identity in favor of opening a costume shop. He even found love...but alas, everything was cruelly taken from him. When the woman Moonstone offered him money for his services as a Thunderbolt, he reluctantly accepted because he had no choice.
Declining to take part in the discussion held by his teammates, Potter's eyes fluttered back and forth across the faces of the Genoshan citizens. He saw the distress and sorrow in their faces, their expressions echoing his own emotions. As he passed over mutant face upon mutant face, he came across one...that he recognized? She looked dead, which made since considering her condition when last Melvin had saw her. The desiccated face of Betsy Beatty, his love that had been taken from him by the hand of death months earlier, smiled back at him. Potter could do little to halt the shivers that ran freely across his spine.
“Good morning, Gladiator,” a voice – one followed by the slap of a hand of Potter's shoulder – greeted. Melvin turned, his face pale as a sheet after what he had seen, stopping his motion when he saw the man beside him was his teammate, Mr. White. “You feeling okay, Melvin?” White asked, “You look as if you've seen a ghost.”
“Mind your own fucking business, White,” Potter responded, placing his helmet over his head so as to better hide just how frightened he truly was. Mr. White shrugged.
“Fair enough,” he muttered as he made his way over to the rest of the small squad of Thunderbolts. Unus followed close behind, his own face hid by a large fedora hat that honestly did little as far as a disguise.
“I have been told that I am an extremely impatient and blunt person, Mr. Unuscione,” Moonstone began, staring daggers into Unus' eyes, “so let me get straight to the point. You've been here observing Magneto for months...when will be the best time to attack?”
Unus sighed heavily, the consequences of his betrayal weighing heavily on his mind. “Over the past few weeks,” he began slowly, “Magneto has taken to flying over the city at dawn, in order to personally survey his people. He is usually lost in thought while doing this, meaning he will be less likely to expect an attack. He knows you are coming, due to Hammer's declaration on international television...your delay in arriving, however, has lulled him into believing your leader to have strong words but a weak backbone.”
“Watch your words and tone, Unus,” Moonstone interjected, a grim smile on her cold face. “For people have other adjectives they have used to describe me: ruthless, manipulative, psychotic...pray you don't experience me in any of these moods.”
“All I care about is the safe extradition of me and my daughter,” Unus replied, returning the woman's fake smile, “and for all I care, you and your people can dance on Magnus' bones and turn this city into a wasteland.”
“The spire at the south end of the square,” White broke in, punctuating his statement with the lighting of a cigarette, “that's Magneto's state quarters. He runs the government from there. Pretty big fucking target, you ask me.”
“MACH-1,” Moonstone addressed her armored comrade, “contact Songbird's team.” She pointed at the tower across the way, and gave a soft nod in its direction. “I want that building reduced to rubble on my mark.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“We've got the target marked, Abe,” Songbird's voice answered over the com link shared between the two teams of Thunderbolts, “and by Marsha's estimates, we're pretty much directly below you now.”
“Give us an hour, max, to reach them,” Volcana chimed in from her place in front of Melissa.
“Understood, Abe,” Songbird again answered, “and tell Karla to shut up. We'll be there when we get there. Melissa out.”
Their location nearly three miles below the city of Hammer Bay, tunneling through the molten earth by way of Volcana's genetically enhanced abilities, it was all the five individuals could do to keep from perishing from the heat. Protected by a cocoon of solid sound, generated by Songbird's newly returned sonic carapace, the team had been traveling for the better part of the night. Their newly acquired target: Magneto's citadel in the heart of Magda Square .
“You handling okay under the strain?” Blacklash asked from behind Songbird, her vocal chords tensed as she used the ambient sounds of Volcana's molten restructuring to support and strengthen her sonic walls.
“I'll be fine,” she grunted out, giving a backward glance over her shoulder. Behind Blacklash were the last two members of her party, Taproot and the Killer Shrike. An unlikely team for a mission such as this, but each had their part to play she surmised. Volcana provided the tunnel, Songbird gave them physical protection, and the mutated body of Taproot – which was now more plant than man – provided them with oxygen that far underground. It was logical that, by the time the team actually reached Genosha, all three would be too tired to fight. That is where the low-powered Blacklash and Killer Shrike would fit in, running interference...because she had already realized that their group was there for only one purpose.
Distraction.
“Okay guys,” Volcana addressed the group, halting her forward progress, “you all ready for this?”
“As ready as we're gonna be, babe,” the Shrike said from his position in line.
“Samuel,” Melissa said as she looked back at the former Plant-Man, who took up the rear of the group, “do you understand what we need done?”
“The green above us knows,” was Taproot's only answer.
“Then here goes,” Volcana grunted out as she placed her palms on the ceiling of the molten tunnel. The tons of earth above them began to rumble, and a blast of magma exploded from Marsha Rosenberg's hands, carving out a large vertical shaft in the stone and bedrock. Songbird's own powers immediately went into effect, placing each member of the squad in individual sonic bubbles. The magma flowed freely down the vertical shaft, and the cocoons were eased up by Melissa's sound-based powers.
She only hoped that Taproot's “green” was as good as its word.
# # # # # # # # # #
The dawn had come without incident, and as he stood on the balcony of his tower citadel, Magneto girded himself for another hard day. With only a bathrobe dressing him, the Master of Magnetism contemplated his affairs with an intense concentration. He had been on guard for so long, deflecting all that came his way with intentions on harming him and his people. Slowly, ever slowly, Genosha was becoming the mutant haven he'd always dreamed about. The process had been difficult and met with tragedy upon tragedy, but in the end, he knew, it would all be worth it.
Pulling together the metallic fibers that hung in the air, Eric Lehnsherr's bathrobe transformed into the steel mesh uniform that transformed him into more than just a man. He was Magneto, the crimson helmet wrapped around his head with only his piercing eyes and tightly drawn mouth visible to any who looked upon him. Magnetic forces bent to his will, lifting him from his perch on the tower's highest peak, and – as he had done every morning since first hearing the threats of invasion that had been leveled against him – he took to the skies over Hammer Bay to see what he could see.
The gall of the American businessman that threatened him on homo sapien television was sufficient enough to make him take notice. Perhaps Justin Hammer had believed the backwater mutant country to without access to news outside their world. Even had Hammer known that in Genosha lived a mutant that could see digital broadcasts through a third eye projector, would he have cared? It mattered not, for as the American must have eventually realized, none could attack Genoshan soil without facing the wrath of Magnus...and that was a terrible sight to behold indeed.
As he floated over his city, his subjects basking in his magnificent presence, Magneto allowed himself a sideways glance back at his citadel that sat in the square he had renamed for his deceased wife. How proud he was of that accomplishment.
And how surprised he was when the ground beneath the city began to shake and convulse, cracking and splintering stone and mortar with its ferociousness. He watched with unbelieving eyes as a giant sink-hole opened in the heart of Magda Square , toppling all of the surrounding buildings into its growing expanse. He then saw the stream of liquid rock explode forth from the eye of the sink-hole, targeted right for his citadel home. The molten blast caught the tower at its base, nearly cleaving through it in one furious strike. The tower did not fall, as he realized must have been the goal, but it seemed to lean inward toward the growing hole of dust and debris, barely standing on its formerly tectonically sound girders.
“Who dares?” he screamed into the morning sky, his own tremendous power reaching out to right the slowly crumbling citadel. Just as he finished the hasty reparation, a blast of photonic energy struck him square in the back, knocking him like a rag-doll through the air. The force had been muffled by his protective costume, but he still could feel his aching spine as he righted himself in the sky.
“Magneto!” a woman, one clothed in a blue and white uniform and a short grey jacket worn over top, yelled as she streaked toward him. Another blast of hard light burst from her palms, this time striking the Genoshan ruler at his weakest point – his eyes.
Burying his face in one palm, Magneto blindly unleashed his magnetic power in the direction the woman had been flying from. Moonstone felt as if she he had hit a brick wall in mid-air, colliding hard with the force shield Magneto had erected. “I know not who attacks me,” Magneto said as his spotted vision began to clear, “but I know your purpose. All who attack Genosha shall die as the fools they most assuredly are.”
“Well ain't that just dandy, Maggie,” another voice – this one obviously male with a slight Australian accent – said as the figure whizzed by the mutant master. Magneto could make out the rough shape of a man dressed in purple and white, but could not ascertain the devices held in the man's hand. With two wide arcs of his arms, Boomerang released the weapons that were his namesake. The first, a screamerang that emitted a piercing hypersonic assault, whirled around Magneto's head, his helmet only barely blocking out the deafening assault. The second, an electrorang, traveled around him in the opposite trajectory from the first. Thousands of volts of electricity flowed from the boomerang into Magneto's body, causing the hair on his head and body to singe.
“Enough!” Magneto yelled as he crushed the flying objects with his magnetic powers. Reaching forward with his hand in a dramatic showing, he seized hold of both Boomerang and the re-approaching Moonstone. “I have taken hold of the ferrous compounds that make up your human bodies,” Magneto stated grimly, “and before I rip the iron from your blood, I demand an explanation.”
“We don't give explanations to power-mad despots, Magneto,” a third voice said as the roar of bootjets was heard over the cacophony of the scene. Magneto turned his head to see the advancing armored Thunderbolt named MACH-1 roaring toward him, his wrist gauntlets firing a volley of bullets at the Genoshan president.
“Jenkins,” Moonstone strained between gritted teeth as Magneto constricted his power upon her body, “you have to...stay back.”
“Your ineptitude knows no bounds, human,” Magneto stated as the bullets were stopped in mid-air by his power. MACH-1 halted in mid-air as well, he too seized by the magnetic forces at Lehnsherr's disposal. A smile crept onto Magnus' lips as he scanned the make-up of his newest attacker with his geometric senses. “Sending an artificial man clothed in metal against the Master of Magnetism,” he chided, “how your pathetic assault force lasted this long in life is beyond me.”
As Magneto closed his outstretched hand into a fist, Abe Jenkins felt his armor begin to tighten, creaking with the strain being placed on it. Within seconds, the armor had imploded in upon itself, crushing the body inside it like an eggshell. “You are the first example, my friend,” Magneto said as he opened his fist as wide as he possibly could. Jenkins broken and shattered armor then quickly expanded outward, the stress causing it to explode in a spectacular blast of fire and sparks.
Without taking another look at his fallen foe, Magneto released his magnetic grasp on the flaming, broken body of MACH-1, allowing it to fall to the ground below them. “Now,” Magnus said as he turned back toward the still-incapacitated Moonstone and Boomerang, “where were we?”
# # # # # # # # # #
“C'mon, Potter, keep looking,” Blizzard said as he fought his way through the shifting dirt and swirling dust of what had once been Magda Square , “they gotta be here somewhere.”
“Better helping the others dig themselves free,” Gladiator whispered to himself, “then facing that monster in the sky.”
Both men's eyes lit up when they saw the solid-sound battering ram burst forth from the eye of the crater, allowing the tunneling Thunderbolts to finally reach sunlight and air. The Killer Shrike emerged first, immediately taking to the air on his glider wings, followed by Songbird, Volcana, and Blacklash.
“Missy, are you okay?” Blizzard asked as he skidded to a stop on the loose dirt in front of his teammates.
“Concentrate on the fucking job at hand, Donnie,” Blacklash chided as he charged up his electrical whip, “she'll be fine in a few, Volcana too. That stunt took a lot out of ‘em.”
“Wait,” Gladiator interrupted, “where's Smithers?”
Songbird, coughing from the amounts of dust she'd inhaled, finally took a look into the sky above the devastation she had helped create. “Oh no,” she breathed as she watched the battle between Magneto and her allies, shaking her head in disbelief as MACH-1 raced to the forefront of the battle.
Then she saw him explode.
“ABE!” she screamed, two pink wings created by her carapace extending from her back in order to lift her into the sky. She had just seen the man she loved, even if the two were denying their relationship at present, explode in a ball of flame and drop from the heavens. Following his downward descent, Melissa Gold raced toward where MACH-1 was going to fall, having lost all concern for her other Thunderbolts.
“Songbird, get the fuck back here!” Blacklash shouted, to no avail.
“So you are the Thunderbolts,” a commanding voice stated from above them, the smoke clearing their line of sight as Magneto hovered over, an unconscious Moonstone and Boomerang floating behind him. “I am not impressed.”
Tossing the two that he had previously defeated to the feet of their comrades, Magneto turned back toward the sky. “Kill them all, my Fallen Angels. Every last one...”
“Fallen Angels?” Gladiator asked rhetorically. His answer came in the form of an explosion behind them that knocked all of the Thunderbolts to their knees. Gladiator, his armor proving the most protection out of all his allies, turned toward the direction of the blast.
Standing at the edge of the large crater were four individuals, clothed in military-style uniforms. Meltdown, her palms pulsing with another time bomb, led the charge down the hill, followed by the cat-woman Feral, the black man known as the Anarchist, and the small girl called Chance.
Looking around at his dazed and battered teammates, Gladiator steeled himself for the only choice he was able to make. Standing from the debris and dirt, his wrist-saws buzzed to life. Pointing at the advancing Fallen Angels, he scowled beneath his helmet.
“Which one of you wants to die first?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Landing on the balcony of his barely-standing tower, Magneto cursed under his breath. He knew his Fallen Angels would easily defeat such an ill-prepared group of fools as the Thunderbolts, but the damage they had caused already was enough to make him despair. Months of rebuilding would be needed, and he so very much wanted to rest.
Removing his helmet, he walked to the large desk that rested in the center of his expansive office. Taking a seat, he tried to block out the din of chaos outside his walls, but found the task impossible.
And that was when he realized he was not alone. Emerging from one of the corners of the large room was a hulking man clothed in orange and purple, his face twisted into a grim scowl as he advanced toward Magneto. “Yet another one of you?” Magneto asked with a remorseful sigh.
The stranger, whose name (unknown to Magneto) was Quantum, said nothing in reply. Instead, a bright flash of light flared from his body, and where there had been just one of him then stood two. The process replicated itself over and over, until the room was filled with copies of the silent, muscular alien. They all stood in place for a moment, allowing Magnus to take in the sheer numbers of the force before him...and then they surged forward, overtaking the Master of Magnetism before he could prepare his tired mind to battle.
The Quantum army battered the mutant with blow upon blow, each delivered with staggering superhuman strength. Withdrawing into himself, Magneto weathered the assault, drawing upon his own power. With a single thought, the homo superior released a concussive wave of magnetic energy that blew most of the Quantum clones across the room.
Unbeknownst to Lehnsherr, however, two more men stood in the shadows, observing the battle. “Now, Voice,” one of the two whispered, “do it now .”
Distracted by the continuing battle with Quantum, Magneto didn't see the squat, fat man with the speakers on his shoulder until it was too late. “ Halt, Magneto! ” the Voice shouted, his irresistible vocal power amplified by his external speakers. His spirit fatigued by battle, the normally strong-willed Magnus found himself unable to resist the Voice's command, halting in his tracks. That was when one of the Quantum doubles appeared before him, a small electronic device cradled between his fingers. Quantum thrust his hand forward, slapping the device to Magneto's forehead, and the Master of Magnetism screamed in pain before dropping to the floor.
“Excellent work, my aides,” the voice of Justin Hammer congratulated as he, too, stepped from the shadows. Though convulsing with pain from the device affixed to his head, Magneto managed to open his eyes and look at the slowly walking industrialist.
“What Quantum so delicately placed on your person,” Hammer explained as he confidently lit a cigarette, “is called a personal electro magnetic field disrupter. Essentially, it's causing a massive EMP burst inside your brain, short-circuiting both your motor functions and access to your prodigious power.”
“What...do you...want?” Magneto strained out. Hammer merely chuckled.
“You, my mongrel friend, are merely the first step in a plan,” the elderly man said, pulling another small electronic box out of his jacket pocket, “but I believe it best if I shed this unruly disguise. You deserve to know who it is that has bested you this day, gene trash.”
With a depression of a button on the device, the form of Justin Hammer began to crackle and fade, transforming slowly in a haze of digital masquerade. The wrinkled face of the industrialist was replaced by a purple mask that covered the expanse of the face, while the modest suit worn on his body melted into a purple, white, and gold uniform.
“ Guten tag , Herr Lehnsherr,” the man that had spent months disguised as Justin Hammer greeted, “I am Baron Helmut Zemo.”
Magneto's eyes narrowed into menacing slits.
Zemo's mask rippled, revealing a smile beneath. “So very good to make your acquaintance.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: “Industrial Strength” concludes with an all-out, balls to the wall battle between the two baddest super-villains on the block: Magneto and Baron Zemo! But will the Thunderbolts survive to see who wins?
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
I suppose I owe all of you readers an explanation. This issue, originally meant to debut nearly a year ago, was supposed to be the first part of a crossover with Alex Cook's Fallen Angels title. However, due to circumstances beyond his control, Alex was continuously delayed in catching his series up with the point he needed to be in order to do the story effectively. Now, months later, I sadly say that Alex has officially dropped off as writer of FA. Talks are in progress with another writer, but that still begged the question: what the hell do we do about "Industrial Strength"?
So here it is, the story now completely taking place in the pages of Thunderbolts. The conclusion comes next issue, feature a war to end all wars between Magneto and Baron Zemo. And speaking of Zemo...how many people saw that end coming? I know some studious readers had already figured it out, but for those who hadn't you need simply go back through the previous nine issues. Clues as to the Hammer/Zemo connection are thread throughout my entire run. Next lettercol, perhaps I'll point them all out for you.
Chris Munn
07/11/04
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Justin Hammer made his declaration of war against Magneto in Thunderbolts # 21 .
- Gladiator reformed and gave up his mercenary ways during Frank Miller's legendary run on Daredevil.
- Unus has been providing information about Magneto to Hammer since at least Thunderbolts # 20.
- The MACH-1 present in this issue is actually a Life Model Decoy that was created by the CSA. Its programming went haywire after its infiltration of the Thunderbolts, returned to the team in Thunderbolts # 16, and has been under the belief that it is the real Abe Jenkins. The real Jenkins, again going by his Beetle identity, was last seen in Thunderbolts # 20. The Thunderbolts are unaware that MACH-1 was replaced by the LMD, and believe the robot to be their true teammate.
He could finally interact as a true human being, "untouchable" no longer other than when he wished it. Unfortunately, his personality had mirrored his physiology over the years, and he had isolated himself from any who had once cared for him. Now that his bizarre ability was under his control, he had attempted to touch the life of one he had previously shut away from him. His daughter's name was Carmilla, and she too was a mutant, the genes passed along from him to her through birth. To his dismay, after a long and desperate search, he discovered that she had unwittingly followed in her father's footsteps, becoming an Acolyte of Magneto. Her mutation had been tweaked, giving her the choice he never had...while she possessed a psionic exoskeleton around her body that she could control, she had inherited the ability to control it. She'd had the choice that he'd never been given, but she had nevertheless tread the same path as he.
That was why he had traveled to Genosha, where he had discovered Carmilla to be residing. She was the voice of council to Lord Magnus himself, the chief of his honor guard. This small force had been given an unofficial name by the residents of the mutant nation. They were the Fallen Angels, and heaven help any who crossed them.
It was because of Carmilla, and his desire to rescue her from a life that could lead only to her death, that he had betrayed his mutant brethren. It was only a matter of time before his betrayal was revealed, and as he took a long glance to the spire of Magneto's tower fortress in the heart of the Square, he wished only to see his daughter free from the mad plans of the Master of Magnetism.
"Greetings from America , Mr. Unuscione," a voice said behind him, little more than a whisper. He turned slowly, but to his surprise found no one. "Go to the adjacent alley between the administration buildings," the bodiless voice instructed, "we have plans to make."
Reluctantly, Unus complied with the voice and quickly made his way to the aforementioned alleyway. Checking back over his shoulder to make sure no one followed, his nervousness was blatantly obvious even when he turned a corner deep between the two buildings.
"A wise man once said that one should not worry about being paranoid," the voice again said, this time attached a man's body that slowly appeared from seemingly thin air, "but whether you are paranoid enough." Extending his hand, the nicely dressed man smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Unuscione. I'm Mr. White...I work for Justin Hammer."
"Finally you people arrive," Angelo said, brushing away the ghostly man's attempt at a friendly handshake, "I feel as if I've been living with a target on my forehead. I've been feeding information to Hammer for months now with hardly any word."
"Take heart, Unus," White replied, rubbing a hand through his albino white hair, "the Thunderbolts are here in force, ready to take down Magneto at a moment's notice. Are you even aware that war has been declared on the so-called mutant savior?"
"Look around you, man," Unuscione said in frustration, "this country is constantly at war with itself. Magneto takes outside threats far less seriously than he does ones from within his own house."
"Well, Angelo," White answered with a sly grin, "I think it's about time somebody made him look up and pay attention."
# # # # # # # # # #
"The first team has secured the harbor, sir, and White has made contact with Unus. How do you wish to proceed?"
Justin Hammer sat back in his leather chair, contemplating on what to do next. The interior carriage of the large stealth boat that had carried him and his Thunderbolts to just a few miles off of Genosha's coast was bathed in the glow of lights from the numerous electrical panels and computer monitors. The man sitting at the head of the computer terminal was a recent addition to the industrialist's team of mercenaries, going by the name Overrider. "Is the second team ready to deploy?" Hammer asked, crossing one leg across the other as he reclined back.
"All operatives of Thunder Two are giving the green light, sir," the Overrider replied, his voice a hollow buzz emitted from the large silver helmet that rested atop his head. "Thunder Two is comprised of Songbird, Blacklash, Taproot, Volcana, and the Killer Shrike. Shall I give the order?"
Hammer narrowed his eyes at his aide's question. "Make it so, Overrider," he finally answered as he stood from his chair, walking cane gripped in his hand. "I'm going atop to converse with our special operatives. I expect you to be ready when the time comes for your part in this plan."
"Understood, Mr. Hammer," the Overrider replied as he turned to another monitor, one in which displayed a diagnostic report of an unknown machine, "TESS and I are ready at a moment's notice."
Hammer showed no sign of affirmation as he exited the room, making his way up the small stairway to the outside of the sleek boat. A sigh of relief passed through his aged lips as he entered into the sunlight, for he knew that very soon he would be able to drop the ruse that he had recently created around his life. Hammer's wealth had always meant he was a figure in the public's eye, but after his passionate declaration of war against the terrorist Magneto and his mutant country on an American televised news conference, the elderly man had become a celebrity of sorts. He had made no public appearances since that initial television appearance, leaving the political world of the United States to speculate on the specifics of his plan. How had this war not been met by sanctions from the United Nations? How had a non-governmental business man been allowed to behave in such a way with no reprisals, effectively allowed to build his own army of superhuman criminals to serve at his beck and call? Hammer had become an enigma, a cipher, to the political analysts, and that was exactly the effect he had wanted to create.
Standing on the bow of the ship were two strangely dressed men, the cool morning wind from the ocean billowing around their bodies. The first man, his muscular body covered in a skin-tight orange and purple costume, was the alien known as Quantum, who had sworn fealty to Hammer for reasons known to none but the two of them. The second man was older and out of shape, overweight but not to the point where he was obese. Two large speakers sat atop his shoulders, connected to a metallic device strapped across his throat. He was called the Voice, whose spoken words could command even the strongest willed to do his bidding. "Good morning, gentlemen," Hammer greeted as he pulled his own coat closer to his body, the wind cutting through his weathered bones, "are you ready?"
While Quantum only gave an acknowledging nod of his head, the Voice was more vocal - no pun intended - about his concerns. "Mr. Hammer, I'm afraid the gravity of what you've asked me to do is starting to weigh heavily on my nerves. I am not a brave man, and what you're asking of me threatens to turn me into a whimpering babe."
"Calm yourself," Hammer said, his eyes narrowed into menacing slits, "allow our prey to make the first move. He will no doubt learn of the Thunderbolts presence in his city soon enough, for they are not ones adept in stealth as much as they are in savagery. When he feels the need to leave his place of refuge, that is when we will strike."
The pudgy man cleared his throat before he spoke again. "What if I cannot hold him? The man has openly defied the greatest minds on the planet. I fear I will not be strong enough."
"If you are not, then you will die...and it will be I that kills you." Hammer turned away from his minions, leaving his cryptic words hanging in the air.
# # # # # # # # # #
"Such destruction," the buzzing voice of MACH-1 muttered as he walked through the streets of Hammer Bay , his armored form covered by a large tarp draped across his body and helmet, "how do these people live like this?"
"They learned to survive, Abe," Boomerang replied, though he knew his answer was unwanted, as a cigarette dangled from his mouth, "by doing whatever it takes. These ruddy mutants are scum of the planet, so I guess they finally decided to act like they were expected to act."
"Kind of harsh, don't you think?" Blizzard interjected, staying close behind his two teammates as they made their way through the edge of the crowd in Magda Square . "These people were made into slaves by a corrupt government. How are we really any different than these muties?"
"Look at us here," Fred continued, nodding his head in the direction of MACH-1, "all of us - except for that Moonstone broad - got where we are today by relying on our normal human skills. Sure, we got fancy tricks and armored suits, but we're still just normal blokes. I can't read minds, you can't control the weather, but we still succeeded at being the one thing these poor souls never caught on to...being human."
"Shut your mouth, Meyers," Moonstone ordered as she turned back toward the three men behind her, "and keep your eyes open for White. He should be around here somewhere."
"Aye, aye, cap'n," Boomerang stated with a mocking salute.
Trailing behind the rest of the group, his helmet resting beneath his arm, was Melvin Potter, also known as the Gladiator. Once, Potter had been one of the deadliest assassins in the world, his name feared by men of all races. Unfortunately, he had also been undeniably insane, his addled mind held under the belief that he was a Roman warrior living a life in centuries past. After a particularly disastrous hit, his fragile mind snapped back into a sense of reality, when he realized that he had been living in a delusion for most of his adult life. With the help of the vigilante Daredevil and the lawyer Matt Murdock, Potter had been cleared of all crimes by reason of temporary insanity. He'd attempted to reform, relinquishing his costumed identity in favor of opening a costume shop. He even found love...but alas, everything was cruelly taken from him. When the woman Moonstone offered him money for his services as a Thunderbolt, he reluctantly accepted because he had no choice.
Declining to take part in the discussion held by his teammates, Potter's eyes fluttered back and forth across the faces of the Genoshan citizens. He saw the distress and sorrow in their faces, their expressions echoing his own emotions. As he passed over mutant face upon mutant face, he came across one...that he recognized? She looked dead, which made since considering her condition when last Melvin had saw her. The desiccated face of Betsy Beatty, his love that had been taken from him by the hand of death months earlier, smiled back at him. Potter could do little to halt the shivers that ran freely across his spine.
“Good morning, Gladiator,” a voice – one followed by the slap of a hand of Potter's shoulder – greeted. Melvin turned, his face pale as a sheet after what he had seen, stopping his motion when he saw the man beside him was his teammate, Mr. White. “You feeling okay, Melvin?” White asked, “You look as if you've seen a ghost.”
“Mind your own fucking business, White,” Potter responded, placing his helmet over his head so as to better hide just how frightened he truly was. Mr. White shrugged.
“Fair enough,” he muttered as he made his way over to the rest of the small squad of Thunderbolts. Unus followed close behind, his own face hid by a large fedora hat that honestly did little as far as a disguise.
“I have been told that I am an extremely impatient and blunt person, Mr. Unuscione,” Moonstone began, staring daggers into Unus' eyes, “so let me get straight to the point. You've been here observing Magneto for months...when will be the best time to attack?”
Unus sighed heavily, the consequences of his betrayal weighing heavily on his mind. “Over the past few weeks,” he began slowly, “Magneto has taken to flying over the city at dawn, in order to personally survey his people. He is usually lost in thought while doing this, meaning he will be less likely to expect an attack. He knows you are coming, due to Hammer's declaration on international television...your delay in arriving, however, has lulled him into believing your leader to have strong words but a weak backbone.”
“Watch your words and tone, Unus,” Moonstone interjected, a grim smile on her cold face. “For people have other adjectives they have used to describe me: ruthless, manipulative, psychotic...pray you don't experience me in any of these moods.”
“All I care about is the safe extradition of me and my daughter,” Unus replied, returning the woman's fake smile, “and for all I care, you and your people can dance on Magnus' bones and turn this city into a wasteland.”
“The spire at the south end of the square,” White broke in, punctuating his statement with the lighting of a cigarette, “that's Magneto's state quarters. He runs the government from there. Pretty big fucking target, you ask me.”
“MACH-1,” Moonstone addressed her armored comrade, “contact Songbird's team.” She pointed at the tower across the way, and gave a soft nod in its direction. “I want that building reduced to rubble on my mark.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“We've got the target marked, Abe,” Songbird's voice answered over the com link shared between the two teams of Thunderbolts, “and by Marsha's estimates, we're pretty much directly below you now.”
“Give us an hour, max, to reach them,” Volcana chimed in from her place in front of Melissa.
“Understood, Abe,” Songbird again answered, “and tell Karla to shut up. We'll be there when we get there. Melissa out.”
Their location nearly three miles below the city of Hammer Bay, tunneling through the molten earth by way of Volcana's genetically enhanced abilities, it was all the five individuals could do to keep from perishing from the heat. Protected by a cocoon of solid sound, generated by Songbird's newly returned sonic carapace, the team had been traveling for the better part of the night. Their newly acquired target: Magneto's citadel in the heart of Magda Square .
“You handling okay under the strain?” Blacklash asked from behind Songbird, her vocal chords tensed as she used the ambient sounds of Volcana's molten restructuring to support and strengthen her sonic walls.
“I'll be fine,” she grunted out, giving a backward glance over her shoulder. Behind Blacklash were the last two members of her party, Taproot and the Killer Shrike. An unlikely team for a mission such as this, but each had their part to play she surmised. Volcana provided the tunnel, Songbird gave them physical protection, and the mutated body of Taproot – which was now more plant than man – provided them with oxygen that far underground. It was logical that, by the time the team actually reached Genosha, all three would be too tired to fight. That is where the low-powered Blacklash and Killer Shrike would fit in, running interference...because she had already realized that their group was there for only one purpose.
Distraction.
“Okay guys,” Volcana addressed the group, halting her forward progress, “you all ready for this?”
“As ready as we're gonna be, babe,” the Shrike said from his position in line.
“Samuel,” Melissa said as she looked back at the former Plant-Man, who took up the rear of the group, “do you understand what we need done?”
“The green above us knows,” was Taproot's only answer.
“Then here goes,” Volcana grunted out as she placed her palms on the ceiling of the molten tunnel. The tons of earth above them began to rumble, and a blast of magma exploded from Marsha Rosenberg's hands, carving out a large vertical shaft in the stone and bedrock. Songbird's own powers immediately went into effect, placing each member of the squad in individual sonic bubbles. The magma flowed freely down the vertical shaft, and the cocoons were eased up by Melissa's sound-based powers.
She only hoped that Taproot's “green” was as good as its word.
# # # # # # # # # #
The dawn had come without incident, and as he stood on the balcony of his tower citadel, Magneto girded himself for another hard day. With only a bathrobe dressing him, the Master of Magnetism contemplated his affairs with an intense concentration. He had been on guard for so long, deflecting all that came his way with intentions on harming him and his people. Slowly, ever slowly, Genosha was becoming the mutant haven he'd always dreamed about. The process had been difficult and met with tragedy upon tragedy, but in the end, he knew, it would all be worth it.
Pulling together the metallic fibers that hung in the air, Eric Lehnsherr's bathrobe transformed into the steel mesh uniform that transformed him into more than just a man. He was Magneto, the crimson helmet wrapped around his head with only his piercing eyes and tightly drawn mouth visible to any who looked upon him. Magnetic forces bent to his will, lifting him from his perch on the tower's highest peak, and – as he had done every morning since first hearing the threats of invasion that had been leveled against him – he took to the skies over Hammer Bay to see what he could see.
The gall of the American businessman that threatened him on homo sapien television was sufficient enough to make him take notice. Perhaps Justin Hammer had believed the backwater mutant country to without access to news outside their world. Even had Hammer known that in Genosha lived a mutant that could see digital broadcasts through a third eye projector, would he have cared? It mattered not, for as the American must have eventually realized, none could attack Genoshan soil without facing the wrath of Magnus...and that was a terrible sight to behold indeed.
As he floated over his city, his subjects basking in his magnificent presence, Magneto allowed himself a sideways glance back at his citadel that sat in the square he had renamed for his deceased wife. How proud he was of that accomplishment.
And how surprised he was when the ground beneath the city began to shake and convulse, cracking and splintering stone and mortar with its ferociousness. He watched with unbelieving eyes as a giant sink-hole opened in the heart of Magda Square , toppling all of the surrounding buildings into its growing expanse. He then saw the stream of liquid rock explode forth from the eye of the sink-hole, targeted right for his citadel home. The molten blast caught the tower at its base, nearly cleaving through it in one furious strike. The tower did not fall, as he realized must have been the goal, but it seemed to lean inward toward the growing hole of dust and debris, barely standing on its formerly tectonically sound girders.
“Who dares?” he screamed into the morning sky, his own tremendous power reaching out to right the slowly crumbling citadel. Just as he finished the hasty reparation, a blast of photonic energy struck him square in the back, knocking him like a rag-doll through the air. The force had been muffled by his protective costume, but he still could feel his aching spine as he righted himself in the sky.
“Magneto!” a woman, one clothed in a blue and white uniform and a short grey jacket worn over top, yelled as she streaked toward him. Another blast of hard light burst from her palms, this time striking the Genoshan ruler at his weakest point – his eyes.
Burying his face in one palm, Magneto blindly unleashed his magnetic power in the direction the woman had been flying from. Moonstone felt as if she he had hit a brick wall in mid-air, colliding hard with the force shield Magneto had erected. “I know not who attacks me,” Magneto said as his spotted vision began to clear, “but I know your purpose. All who attack Genosha shall die as the fools they most assuredly are.”
“Well ain't that just dandy, Maggie,” another voice – this one obviously male with a slight Australian accent – said as the figure whizzed by the mutant master. Magneto could make out the rough shape of a man dressed in purple and white, but could not ascertain the devices held in the man's hand. With two wide arcs of his arms, Boomerang released the weapons that were his namesake. The first, a screamerang that emitted a piercing hypersonic assault, whirled around Magneto's head, his helmet only barely blocking out the deafening assault. The second, an electrorang, traveled around him in the opposite trajectory from the first. Thousands of volts of electricity flowed from the boomerang into Magneto's body, causing the hair on his head and body to singe.
“Enough!” Magneto yelled as he crushed the flying objects with his magnetic powers. Reaching forward with his hand in a dramatic showing, he seized hold of both Boomerang and the re-approaching Moonstone. “I have taken hold of the ferrous compounds that make up your human bodies,” Magneto stated grimly, “and before I rip the iron from your blood, I demand an explanation.”
“We don't give explanations to power-mad despots, Magneto,” a third voice said as the roar of bootjets was heard over the cacophony of the scene. Magneto turned his head to see the advancing armored Thunderbolt named MACH-1 roaring toward him, his wrist gauntlets firing a volley of bullets at the Genoshan president.
“Jenkins,” Moonstone strained between gritted teeth as Magneto constricted his power upon her body, “you have to...stay back.”
“Your ineptitude knows no bounds, human,” Magneto stated as the bullets were stopped in mid-air by his power. MACH-1 halted in mid-air as well, he too seized by the magnetic forces at Lehnsherr's disposal. A smile crept onto Magnus' lips as he scanned the make-up of his newest attacker with his geometric senses. “Sending an artificial man clothed in metal against the Master of Magnetism,” he chided, “how your pathetic assault force lasted this long in life is beyond me.”
As Magneto closed his outstretched hand into a fist, Abe Jenkins felt his armor begin to tighten, creaking with the strain being placed on it. Within seconds, the armor had imploded in upon itself, crushing the body inside it like an eggshell. “You are the first example, my friend,” Magneto said as he opened his fist as wide as he possibly could. Jenkins broken and shattered armor then quickly expanded outward, the stress causing it to explode in a spectacular blast of fire and sparks.
Without taking another look at his fallen foe, Magneto released his magnetic grasp on the flaming, broken body of MACH-1, allowing it to fall to the ground below them. “Now,” Magnus said as he turned back toward the still-incapacitated Moonstone and Boomerang, “where were we?”
# # # # # # # # # #
“C'mon, Potter, keep looking,” Blizzard said as he fought his way through the shifting dirt and swirling dust of what had once been Magda Square , “they gotta be here somewhere.”
“Better helping the others dig themselves free,” Gladiator whispered to himself, “then facing that monster in the sky.”
Both men's eyes lit up when they saw the solid-sound battering ram burst forth from the eye of the crater, allowing the tunneling Thunderbolts to finally reach sunlight and air. The Killer Shrike emerged first, immediately taking to the air on his glider wings, followed by Songbird, Volcana, and Blacklash.
“Missy, are you okay?” Blizzard asked as he skidded to a stop on the loose dirt in front of his teammates.
“Concentrate on the fucking job at hand, Donnie,” Blacklash chided as he charged up his electrical whip, “she'll be fine in a few, Volcana too. That stunt took a lot out of ‘em.”
“Wait,” Gladiator interrupted, “where's Smithers?”
Songbird, coughing from the amounts of dust she'd inhaled, finally took a look into the sky above the devastation she had helped create. “Oh no,” she breathed as she watched the battle between Magneto and her allies, shaking her head in disbelief as MACH-1 raced to the forefront of the battle.
Then she saw him explode.
“ABE!” she screamed, two pink wings created by her carapace extending from her back in order to lift her into the sky. She had just seen the man she loved, even if the two were denying their relationship at present, explode in a ball of flame and drop from the heavens. Following his downward descent, Melissa Gold raced toward where MACH-1 was going to fall, having lost all concern for her other Thunderbolts.
“Songbird, get the fuck back here!” Blacklash shouted, to no avail.
“So you are the Thunderbolts,” a commanding voice stated from above them, the smoke clearing their line of sight as Magneto hovered over, an unconscious Moonstone and Boomerang floating behind him. “I am not impressed.”
Tossing the two that he had previously defeated to the feet of their comrades, Magneto turned back toward the sky. “Kill them all, my Fallen Angels. Every last one...”
“Fallen Angels?” Gladiator asked rhetorically. His answer came in the form of an explosion behind them that knocked all of the Thunderbolts to their knees. Gladiator, his armor proving the most protection out of all his allies, turned toward the direction of the blast.
Standing at the edge of the large crater were four individuals, clothed in military-style uniforms. Meltdown, her palms pulsing with another time bomb, led the charge down the hill, followed by the cat-woman Feral, the black man known as the Anarchist, and the small girl called Chance.
Looking around at his dazed and battered teammates, Gladiator steeled himself for the only choice he was able to make. Standing from the debris and dirt, his wrist-saws buzzed to life. Pointing at the advancing Fallen Angels, he scowled beneath his helmet.
“Which one of you wants to die first?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Landing on the balcony of his barely-standing tower, Magneto cursed under his breath. He knew his Fallen Angels would easily defeat such an ill-prepared group of fools as the Thunderbolts, but the damage they had caused already was enough to make him despair. Months of rebuilding would be needed, and he so very much wanted to rest.
Removing his helmet, he walked to the large desk that rested in the center of his expansive office. Taking a seat, he tried to block out the din of chaos outside his walls, but found the task impossible.
And that was when he realized he was not alone. Emerging from one of the corners of the large room was a hulking man clothed in orange and purple, his face twisted into a grim scowl as he advanced toward Magneto. “Yet another one of you?” Magneto asked with a remorseful sigh.
The stranger, whose name (unknown to Magneto) was Quantum, said nothing in reply. Instead, a bright flash of light flared from his body, and where there had been just one of him then stood two. The process replicated itself over and over, until the room was filled with copies of the silent, muscular alien. They all stood in place for a moment, allowing Magnus to take in the sheer numbers of the force before him...and then they surged forward, overtaking the Master of Magnetism before he could prepare his tired mind to battle.
The Quantum army battered the mutant with blow upon blow, each delivered with staggering superhuman strength. Withdrawing into himself, Magneto weathered the assault, drawing upon his own power. With a single thought, the homo superior released a concussive wave of magnetic energy that blew most of the Quantum clones across the room.
Unbeknownst to Lehnsherr, however, two more men stood in the shadows, observing the battle. “Now, Voice,” one of the two whispered, “do it now .”
Distracted by the continuing battle with Quantum, Magneto didn't see the squat, fat man with the speakers on his shoulder until it was too late. “ Halt, Magneto! ” the Voice shouted, his irresistible vocal power amplified by his external speakers. His spirit fatigued by battle, the normally strong-willed Magnus found himself unable to resist the Voice's command, halting in his tracks. That was when one of the Quantum doubles appeared before him, a small electronic device cradled between his fingers. Quantum thrust his hand forward, slapping the device to Magneto's forehead, and the Master of Magnetism screamed in pain before dropping to the floor.
“Excellent work, my aides,” the voice of Justin Hammer congratulated as he, too, stepped from the shadows. Though convulsing with pain from the device affixed to his head, Magneto managed to open his eyes and look at the slowly walking industrialist.
“What Quantum so delicately placed on your person,” Hammer explained as he confidently lit a cigarette, “is called a personal electro magnetic field disrupter. Essentially, it's causing a massive EMP burst inside your brain, short-circuiting both your motor functions and access to your prodigious power.”
“What...do you...want?” Magneto strained out. Hammer merely chuckled.
“You, my mongrel friend, are merely the first step in a plan,” the elderly man said, pulling another small electronic box out of his jacket pocket, “but I believe it best if I shed this unruly disguise. You deserve to know who it is that has bested you this day, gene trash.”
With a depression of a button on the device, the form of Justin Hammer began to crackle and fade, transforming slowly in a haze of digital masquerade. The wrinkled face of the industrialist was replaced by a purple mask that covered the expanse of the face, while the modest suit worn on his body melted into a purple, white, and gold uniform.
“ Guten tag , Herr Lehnsherr,” the man that had spent months disguised as Justin Hammer greeted, “I am Baron Helmut Zemo.”
Magneto's eyes narrowed into menacing slits.
Zemo's mask rippled, revealing a smile beneath. “So very good to make your acquaintance.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: “Industrial Strength” concludes with an all-out, balls to the wall battle between the two baddest super-villains on the block: Magneto and Baron Zemo! But will the Thunderbolts survive to see who wins?
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
I suppose I owe all of you readers an explanation. This issue, originally meant to debut nearly a year ago, was supposed to be the first part of a crossover with Alex Cook's Fallen Angels title. However, due to circumstances beyond his control, Alex was continuously delayed in catching his series up with the point he needed to be in order to do the story effectively. Now, months later, I sadly say that Alex has officially dropped off as writer of FA. Talks are in progress with another writer, but that still begged the question: what the hell do we do about "Industrial Strength"?
So here it is, the story now completely taking place in the pages of Thunderbolts. The conclusion comes next issue, feature a war to end all wars between Magneto and Baron Zemo. And speaking of Zemo...how many people saw that end coming? I know some studious readers had already figured it out, but for those who hadn't you need simply go back through the previous nine issues. Clues as to the Hammer/Zemo connection are thread throughout my entire run. Next lettercol, perhaps I'll point them all out for you.
Chris Munn
07/11/04
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Justin Hammer made his declaration of war against Magneto in Thunderbolts # 21 .
- Gladiator reformed and gave up his mercenary ways during Frank Miller's legendary run on Daredevil.
- Unus has been providing information about Magneto to Hammer since at least Thunderbolts # 20.
- The MACH-1 present in this issue is actually a Life Model Decoy that was created by the CSA. Its programming went haywire after its infiltration of the Thunderbolts, returned to the team in Thunderbolts # 16, and has been under the belief that it is the real Abe Jenkins. The real Jenkins, again going by his Beetle identity, was last seen in Thunderbolts # 20. The Thunderbolts are unaware that MACH-1 was replaced by the LMD, and believe the robot to be their true teammate.