He stood unseen amongst them, an unlit cigarette clinched tightly between his lips as he observed the inner workings of those he knew to be his enemies. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, he'd heard them called…but, standing in the corner of the West Coast Avengers' assembly room, the invisible and intangible Mr. White could only scoff at the thought.
Since moving to the West Coast (ironically enough, a move perpetuated by dealings with the East Coast Avengers months before), he and his fellows had worried about the possibility of running afoul of the newly-instituted Los Angeles team of heroes. Had it simply been a coincidence that only weeks after Baron Zemo had moved his base of operations to California the Avengers had reopened their western franchise? Seeing the heroes squabble amongst themselves in their meeting room, White could hardly bring himself to believe that the fools could have anticipated his partner's plans.
His gaze fluttered back and forth between the heroes, from the blustering arrogance of Iron Man to the cocky attitude of Hawkeye, but he found his attention returning each time to the young red-haired girl that sat in silence at the table. Vagabond, as she called herself, had been accepted into the Avengers' confidence with nary a second thought. What they didn't know, however, was that she was in fact a mole in the operations of the hero team, planted inside by Zemo himself. This hadn't been the first visit that Mr. White had made to Avengers Compound, for no other reason than the fact that Zemo was unbelievably paranoid of everyone and everything. It was always nice to have contingency plans, White decided, but there was a point where caution could easily be perceived as madness.
He felt the need to stifle a laugh as he studied Vagabond's face, her secret guilt as obvious as could be. The Avengers truly were fools, he realized, and that he had been a fool for fearing them. Satisfied with what he had observed, White turned away from the heroes, walking straight through the wall behind him. Such simple electronic detection grids were easily bypassed by those whose natural state of being was out of synch with reality itself.
He continued walking, straight out of the building and across the compound grounds, passing by workers and servants with no one the wiser. When he finally made his way past the outside walls, he allowed himself to become visible and tangible. A moment later, the cigarette in his mouth was lit, and a welcomed exhalation of smoke brought a smile to his face. He had yet another job to do in the city, another cog in the Baron's machine that needed to be implemented.
With his black sport jacket billowing behind him in the warm wind, a smirk passed across Mr. White's face. He so loved his job these days…
Since moving to the West Coast (ironically enough, a move perpetuated by dealings with the East Coast Avengers months before), he and his fellows had worried about the possibility of running afoul of the newly-instituted Los Angeles team of heroes. Had it simply been a coincidence that only weeks after Baron Zemo had moved his base of operations to California the Avengers had reopened their western franchise? Seeing the heroes squabble amongst themselves in their meeting room, White could hardly bring himself to believe that the fools could have anticipated his partner's plans.
His gaze fluttered back and forth between the heroes, from the blustering arrogance of Iron Man to the cocky attitude of Hawkeye, but he found his attention returning each time to the young red-haired girl that sat in silence at the table. Vagabond, as she called herself, had been accepted into the Avengers' confidence with nary a second thought. What they didn't know, however, was that she was in fact a mole in the operations of the hero team, planted inside by Zemo himself. This hadn't been the first visit that Mr. White had made to Avengers Compound, for no other reason than the fact that Zemo was unbelievably paranoid of everyone and everything. It was always nice to have contingency plans, White decided, but there was a point where caution could easily be perceived as madness.
He felt the need to stifle a laugh as he studied Vagabond's face, her secret guilt as obvious as could be. The Avengers truly were fools, he realized, and that he had been a fool for fearing them. Satisfied with what he had observed, White turned away from the heroes, walking straight through the wall behind him. Such simple electronic detection grids were easily bypassed by those whose natural state of being was out of synch with reality itself.
He continued walking, straight out of the building and across the compound grounds, passing by workers and servants with no one the wiser. When he finally made his way past the outside walls, he allowed himself to become visible and tangible. A moment later, the cigarette in his mouth was lit, and a welcomed exhalation of smoke brought a smile to his face. He had yet another job to do in the city, another cog in the Baron's machine that needed to be implemented.
With his black sport jacket billowing behind him in the warm wind, a smirk passed across Mr. White's face. He so loved his job these days…
Back to GatefoldIssue #24 by Chris Munn
LOUNGE FILES |
New York City
Three individuals stood outside the door to the seedy motel room, the yellow caution tape around the entrance causing their steely expressions to grimace even more. With a dismissive wave of a hand, the police tape was easily torn away, allowing them access to the crime scene. Upon entering the room, all three intruders suffered an involuntary shudder, the thought of what had happened inside causing them all to experience emotions they thought they had long been rid of.
“So this is where they found her?” Melissa Gold asked rhetorically, keeping watch on the door as the other two ventured further inside. Tape outlines of various discovered body parts marked the death scene of a young woman that all three had once called “teammate”, if not “friend”.
“Hallie didn't deserve this,” Erik Josten commented, his hands curled into tight fists as he ran his eyes over the poorly lit room. The bed sheets were still soaked through with blood and dried puddles of red had settled on the shag carpet.
“I'm still not sure why I agreed to join you two on this foolish quest,” Karla Sofen stated gruffly, taking a seat in one of the few chairs not stained with the life fluid of Hallie Takahama. “Even if this insane idea of yours works, it matters little to me. I never considered Jolt to be anything more than a nuisance during our time together. I have more important matters awaiting me back at our headquarters.”
“Abe's dead and both Zemo and Techno have vanished off the face of the planet,” Melissa immediately snapped back, “that leaves us as the only three Thunderbolts left. We owe it to Hallie to find out what happened to her.”
“And, if necessary,” Josten added, “avenge her.”
“Fine, fine,” Karla sighed, “but let's just get on with it, shall we? Where is that little barrio rat? He should have arrived well before us.”
“The little ‘barrio rat',” a Spanish accented voice said from just outside the door, “had to catch a real flight to Nuevo York, punta.” Melissa smiled as she stepped aside for the last of their party, allowing Miguel Santos passage into the motel room.
“Thanks for coming, Miguel,” Erik said, extending his hand out to greet the former Avenger, “it's good to see you again.”
“I was hoping never to hear from you people again,” Santos admitted as he knelt down closer to the floor, rubbing his fingers against an odd-shaped tape outline, “so just remember that I'm here to find out what happened to Hallie. I could care less what you locos do after this.”
“You sound ashamed of your time as a Thunderbolt,” Karla commented, a sly grin on her beautiful face, “I guess the whole ‘we want to be heroes' bit finally lost its luster for you.”
“Don't guilt trip me,” Miguel said, narrowing his eyes at his former teammate, “the Avengers won't even acknowledge me after my little tenure with you. I think they half expected me to show up in the news footage from Genosha.”
“Look, we're starting to forget why we're here,” Melissa said after closing the door to the room, “so why don't we get started?”
“There's no reason this plan should work,” Miguel admitted, “I'm not much practiced when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“You call yourself the Living Lightning, Santos ,” Karla said, “so let's see what we can do about making that moniker more apropos.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“You know, ah can't believe ah've never heard of this place before. You fellas sure need to start advertisin' more.”
Katrina van Horn, part time bartender at the “Bar With No Name”, cocked a curious eyebrow at the young girl sitting in the stool across from her. She'd recognized the girl immediately, the skunk stripe running down the center of her brown hair giving away her identity fairly easily. She wasn't sure just why the door man had let her in, but the brutish Katrina found comfort in the fact that the X-Man named Rogue obviously had no idea just where it was she had wandered into.
“So, ah just broke up with mah boyfriend,” Rogue said, her fifth beer placed in front of her as she spoke, “and ah was on mah way home, when ah decided that what ah really needed was a night out on the town before ah returned with mah tail planted between mah legs.”
Van Horn smiled, her attention now focused fully on the inebriated hero. “You say you just broke up with your boyfriend, huh?”
“Oh, yeah!” Rogue exclaimed before downing the rest of the beverage in her glass. “But ah should've seen it comin'. He had a wife and a kid and all, and ah was stupid for evah thinkin' we had a future together.”
“So, what are you doing later?” Katrina asked, resting her elbows on the bar in front of Rogue. “I get off at midnight if you wanna party for a while.”
“Back off, bull,” a man's voice threatened. Katrina turned her head slightly, wanting to see what man in the bar had the cojones to talk to her. Even though she didn't really go for that sort of thing, even she had to admit that the guy taking a seat directly beside Rogue was possibly the most attractive male she'd ever seen. His blonde hair hung in front of his face in perfectly combed wisps, and the leather ensemble covering his body told her that he obviously spent more time dressing in front of the mirror than most girls she knew.
“Oh, now who are you ?” Rogue asked coyly as she turned toward the newcomer. Realizing that she didn't have a chance in Hell, Katrina moved to another part of the bar, grumbling softly to herself.
“You have no idea where you are, do you?” the guy asked with a warm, inviting smile on his face. Rogue shook her head, her movements exaggerated by the amount of alcohol she'd ingested. “Well,” he continued, “I'd almost decided not to come to this place anymore. Looks like it was a good thing I came for one last night of debauchery, huh?”
“Mah name's Rogue,” she stated, placing a hand on the man's leg, following the movement with a sly wink, “what's yours?”
“Ladykiller,” he replied, his grin even larger than before, “can I buy you another drink?”
# # # # # # # # # #
“This isn't going to work,” Karla said, the statement followed by three shushing noises from the people surrounding her. The four sat in a circle on the motel room floor, a large space left in the middle of them that contained one of the larger tape outlines.
“Nobody move,” Miguel advised as he closed his eyes, “and nobody say a word.”
The three Thunderbolts waited impatiently, trying their best not to fidget too much, as Miguel concentrated on the electrical energies that were his to control. Twenty minutes passed before the first small flicker of light appeared before them.
Melissa gasped. “Is…is that…?”
Suddenly, the small spark exploded upward, swirling around in the circle formed by the four. Slowly, painfully, Miguel grasped hold of the electrical energy with his own power, reining it in by sheer force of will. Eventually, the energy coalesced into a recognizable shape, the energy patterns forming the face and upper body of a young woman known by all of them.
“Melissa…Erik…ZZZKKT?” the voice of Hallie Takahama buzzed, a look of confusion appearing on the face of the electrical being. “What's…ZZZKKT…going…on?”
“Hallie, we don't have much time,” Erik began, “Miguel managed to pull together your electrical essence from the air, but we don't know how long he can hold it. You need to tell us what happened to you, honey.”
“The…man…ZZZKKT…in the…bar…no name,” the wraith forced out, the effort as painful for her as it was for Miguel, “brought here…ZZZKKT…sex….couldn't control….myself…ZZZKKT…killed myself!”
“Suicide?” Karla asked. “How pedestrian.”
“ZZZKKT…he made…me…controlled ZZZKKT me!”
“What was his name , Hallie?” Melissa asked, fighting back tears as she spoke.
“Don't….ZZZKKT…know,” Jolt answered, her electrical body beginning to pulse uncontrollably, “called…ZZZKKT…Ladykiller…”
Then, without warning, the energy form of their deceased friend faded from view, but was then replaced by an explosive surge of energy that washed over the four, knocking them all onto their backs. Slowly, Karla, Erik, and Melissa all recovered their senses, rising from the carpeted floor. Miguel arose afterward, his body sizzling with the excess energy absorbed during the séance.
“The poor girl,” Erik muttered.
“Ladykiller,” Melissa stated, “what's a Ladykiller?”
“I am never trying a stunt that loco ever again,” Miguel expressed.
“If you'd paid attention,” Karla interjected, “you'd have heard her give us a place to start looking.”
All eyes turned toward Dr. Sofen.
“The Bar With No Name, anyone?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Los Angeles, California
Hammer Industries
Marsha Rosenberg hated packing, and she hated moving even more. It seemed as if every moment spent after becoming the villainous Volcana had been spent on the run, moving from place to place for her own safety. The thought of going on the move once again did not appeal to her, but her only other option was one that she'd firmly decided against the day before. She couldn't stay with the Thunderbolts a moment longer, and if that meant moving again, then so be it.
“I see the pressure's finally starting to get to some of us,” the voice of Melvin Potter asked from the open doorway, his arms fully wrapped in white bandages. “I was just wondering who was gonna crack first…frankly, I had good odds that it'd be me.”
“I can't take this kind of life, Melvin,” Marsha said as she closed the clasps on her suitcase, “all the death and destruction. We killed thousands of people when we attacked Genosha, and that's something I'll have to live with until the day I die. So, I'm leaving…maybe I'll try and find Owen again, start a real life again.”
“Marsha,” Melvin began, his voice tinged with sadness, “you're the only other normal person I've found here. The others are all psychos or sadists, but you're not. Please, don't go.”
“Melvin, I have to go,” she said, walking toward him with her suitcase in hand. Placing a hand on his face, she rubbed his cheek tenderly. “And if I were you, I'd leave, too.”
Gladiator lowered his head in defeat as Marsha moved past him, never once looking back as she made her way to the elevator. “She hates you, Melvin,” a hiss of a voice said inside his brain, “she's leaving because of you.”
Potter slowly moved his eyes; not wanting to acknowledge what he knew was there. Sitting on the bed was Betsy Beatty, the woman Melvin had loved more than life itself. The woman Melvin had watched die only six months before. Her skin was a sickly alabaster color, her clothes were torn and ragged, and he imagined he could almost smell the noxious scent of rotting flesh. “I'm the only one that loves you, Melvin,” the ghost said, licking her lips after speaking.
“You're not real, you're not real, you're not real…” Melvin muttered the mantra repeatedly as he closed his eyes tightly shut. After a long moment, he slowly cracked open his eyelids…and Betsy was gone.
# # # # # # # # # #
“I know we're getting paid a king's ransom, mates – and you all know how much I love money – but I think it's time to cut our losses and get the bloody fuck out of dodge.”
Sitting around a small table in an empty room deep within Hammer's facility, Mark Scarlotti furrowed his brow in consternation. Fred Meyers had said his peace, given his opinion on their current situation. The third man in the room, Donny Gill, hadn't said a word since Meyers had called them to their secret meeting, content with simply slumping down in his chair and listening.
“Do you really think,” Mark replied to Fred's comments, “that Hammer would let us leave?”
“That Volcana chick is leavin'!” Boomerang answered sharply.
“That's different,” Scarlotti again replied, “Moonstone brought her in as an independent agent. And, at least as far as I can figure out, she's outlived her usefulness now that the Genosha strike is over. Girl's playing it smart, ‘cause if she stayed she'd probably end up dead.”
“What the fuck do you think I've been trying to say this whole time, Mark?” Fred yelled, waving his hands in the air to accent his frantic tone. “If we stay, we're gonna die. Hammer ain't fuckin' around anymore, and we're not just flunkies. We graduated to terrorist status, mates...we invaded another fucking country. How long ‘til the Avengers or SHIELD come bustin' in our doors looking for our scalps? Or shit, you really think that Magneto bloke is just gonna let this lie?”
“Guys, I don't think I can handle this anymore,” Donny finally spoke up. “I mean, the only reason I was sticking around was for you guys and for Missy. Now she acts like I don't even exist and I keep getting my ass kicked. Hell, I don't even know if Blizzard has a future anymore after my suit got shredded in Genosha...”
“Fuck Screaming Mimi, pal,” Fred said as he leaned back in his chair, “let the bitch moan over her dead ex-boyfriend and move on.”
“Here's the thing, guys,” Mark interjected, “we are terrorists, if not in name then most definitely in fact. If we run, we lose the only protection we've got from the law, namely Hammer's influence. He's made deals to keep himself from hanging over the Genosha thing, whatever they may be, and he's the only shot we've got to come out of this without a prison sentence.”
“Fuck,” Fred replied, knowing his friend was correct in his assumptions, “fuck, fuck, and fuck. I guess I'm here to stay then, right?”
“Mark, think about your wife and kid,” Donny commented, “what if the worst case scenario happens and you don't walk away from all this?”
“She's my ex-wife, Donny,” Mark said, a scowl on his face as he spoke, “and she said something to me a while back that opened my eyes a little. I chose this life for myself, and nothing I can say will change that. So if I die here, well...I've only myself to blame.”
“So we're the Three Musketeers, then,” Fred said with a smile, “all for one, and fuck the rest.”
Finally a slight smile appeared on Blizzard's face as he sat up straight in his seat. “With friends like these...” he said sarcastically.
# # # # # # # # # #
New York City
The Bar With No Name
“Ah really don't know about this,” Rogue said as the striking gentleman she'd just met pulled her toward the back door of the bar, “ah think ah've had too much to drink...”
“No worries, babe,” Ladykiller replied with a wink and a smile, pushing open the door to the alley behind the bar, “I promised I'd show you a good time, didn't I?”
Rogue sheepishly returned the man's smile, a blush coming onto her cheeks.
“Trust me,” he said, pulling her through the doorway, the door slamming behind them.
In the span of a breath, Ladykiller had the young woman pressed against the building's brick wall, his hands roaming across her clothed body. Keeping his face a teasing distance away from hers, he explored Rogue's ample curves with the precision of a Casanova. Through it all, his eyes remained locked with hers.
“Your will is mine now,” he whispered, “your only desire will be to satisfy my slightest whim.”
Rogue's expression had gone blank upon the application of the man's incredible mental power. She was his, body and soul, and even had she wanted to fight his influence she knew she would fail. She was his slave, his toy to do with as he would. “Ah'm yours,” she moaned, returning his gropes and caresses with a passion she'd rarely felt in her life. They two leaned into each other and kissed, passionately...and the Ladykiller felt something he'd never felt before. His life began to drain away from him as Rogue's mutant power activated from their flesh-on-flesh contact.
Suddenly, the door to the bar opened, startling the couple and breaking their embrace. Katrina van Horn entered the alley, two large garbage bags in hand, but immediately stopped short when she saw the dashing young man from the bar fall unconscious to the ground in front of Rogue. “What the fuck's going on back here?” the Man-Killer asked fiercely.
“This is quite unexpected,” Rogue said, rubbing her hands over her chest and hips, taking in the curves of her own body. Her speech patterns had changed, the southern drawl of her accent gone in favor of one more proper. Man-Killer stood in confusion as the X-Man bent down to the man crumpled down in front of her and searched through his jacket pocket. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Rogue winked at van Horn. “The Ladykiller's driving this boat now, princess,” Rogue said while lighting the cigarette between her lips, “and it looks like I'm gonna get two for one tonight...”
# # # # # # # # # #
“Well, if there was one place on Earth I hoped never to go to again...”
Melissa and Karla each took a bemused glance at Erik Josten, their large friend obviously uncomfortable in their surroundings. The Bar With No Name was an establishment that every super-villain frequented at least one time during their careers, a place that acted almost as a haven for those that operated outside of the law. There had originally been just the one, but the Bar had taken on a life of it's own and established franchises in every major city in the country. Of course, no super-villain could forget what had happened at the original Bar...a massacre of their own perpetrated by a man known only as the Scourge of the Underworld. In the back of every patron's mind was the thought that, one day, the Scourge could choose to walk into any Bar they inhabited and repeat the incident.
“So what are we looking for here?” Moonstone asked as they took a table in a far corner of the bar. “Someone with a big sign that says I kill super heroines for fun , perhaps?”
“How can you act like this, Karla?” Melissa asked. “You cared about Hallie as much as any of us. The stone bitch routine only works when you have suspension of disbelief.”
“I wish Miguel could've come,” Erik said, hoping to break the tension between the two women, “we might need him.”
“The moment I need that barrio rat,” Moonstone scoffed, “is the moment I'll willingly put a gun to my temple and pull the trigger.”
Suddenly, a loud crash was heard, directing everyone's attention to the outer wall of the bar. Crashing through the brick and mortar was a muscular red-haired woman, a woman who the three Thunderbolts immediately recognized as Katrina van Horn, the Man-Killer. Katrina flew across the expanse of the room, eventually crashing violently into the bar she usually stood behind. Wood and brass broke into pieces as she landed, and every one gasped slightly when the brutish woman didn't get up, remaining unconscious in the debris.
“I have to say,” Rogue, her consciousness overtaken by the absorbed psyche of the Ladykiller, said as she emerged through the hole Man-Killer had made, “I've suddenly acquired a new-found respect for physical super powers.”
“Should we do something?” Erik asked, standing from his chair. Karla placed a hand on his muscular arm, prompting him to return to his seat.
“Rogue's a superhero,” Moonstone stated, “so reason dictates that van Horn probably had that coming to her.”
Having made her way to the stunned Man-Killer, Rogue/Ladykiller grabbed her shirt collar and lifted her into the air. “I have to say, you're much more of a challenge than Diamondback or that Thunderbolts kid. Of course, the seduction route is probably wasted on you anyway.”
The three Thunderbolts immediately looked at one another, their expressions ones of shock and realization. Josten immediately sprang from the table, running through the fleeing patrons on his way to the two fighting women. With a punch that would've taken the head off of a normal person, Erik cracked Rogue in the jaw, and only in hindsight did he thank Karla for making them wear their uniforms under their coats.
Dropping Man-Killer to the ground, Rogue regained her senses and blew a kiss at Josten. “I normally don't swing both ways,” the possessed X-Man said, “but I'll be more than happy to make you the exception, sweet-cheeks.”
Goliath said nothing as he tripled in size, tearing his way through the ceiling of the bar while throwing another massive fist in Rogue's direction. This time, however, the superhumanly strong mutant caught the giant's fist. “I just figured out who you are, man,” Rogue said as she pulled with all her strength on Erik's arm, causing him to topple down toward her, “and I can guess why you're here.” Rogue cocked her own arm back, swinging her first forward just as Goliath's face came down to her. The blow struck directly between Josten's eyes, knocking him out instantly.
“I think that's enough out of you,” Songbird said, her sonic scream transformed by the carapace around her shoulders into forms of solid sound. The sonic constructs wrapped around Rogue's flailing form, wrapping her tightly in unbreakable bonds.
“Did you kill Hallie Takahama?” Moonstone asked as she approached the captive Rogue.
“Blow me, bitch,” Rogue answered with a smirk.
“Did you kill her? ” Moonstone asked again, this time her voice raised to a yell. Dr. Sofen began to punch the woman in the face, her own enhanced strength making each blow hit with the force of a tank shell. She continued to punch Rogue with all her strength, not noticing the tears that streamed down her own face as she lost her composure in a fit of rage.
“Whoa, Karla, that's enough!” Erik shouted as he grabbed Moonstone from behind, pulling her away from the battered and beaten Rogue. Still holding the mutant in her sonic bonds, Melissa examined the woman's face.
“She's not messed up too bad,” Songbird said, “guess she has some pretty potent invulnerability of her own.”
Slowly, Rogue's eyes fluttered open, coughing as she tried to speak. “Ah...Ah'm sorry. Ah didn't mean to, ah was possessed.”
“Possessed?” Songbird asked, confused.
“The effect of mah power finally wore off,” Rogue continued, “and the scumbag that was controlling me – ah could see him killing your friend in his memories – he's outside in the alley!”
Moonstone hesitated none as she let loose a force blast, blowing yet another large hole in the bar wall. However, when she and Erik made their way outside, they found no one. The man responsible for their battle had fled upon regaining his own body, choosing discretion over valor.
“You said you saw his memories, Rogue,” Songbird asked, reluctantly dissolving her sonic bonds that held the woman captive, “who is he? Where can we find him?”
“Ah don't really know,” Rogue answered, slightly embarrassed, “he only let me see what he wanted me to see. He's killed women all over the city, and he was gonna kill me.”
“What's his name, X-Man?” Moonstone asked, her voice still terse with anger.
“His name's Ladykiller,” Rogue replied, “and I think he's gonna be pissed that we messed up his perfect record.”
Across the bar, Katrina van Horn finally regained consciousness, though she still felt dazed from the massive blow that Rogue had struck across her jaw. “Where is the bitch?” she asked groggily. “I'll fuckin' kill her skank ass!”
“Ms. Van Horn,” a voice said from behind her, followed by a hand placed on her shoulder, “forget your petty vendetta for a moment.”
Man-Killer turned her head and found a man crouched down beside her, a trenchcoat and hat hiding a face and body adorned with cybernetic devices. “Who are you and why shouldn't I kick your balls into your throat?”
“I am the Fixer,” the man replied, “and I have a job offer for you...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Los Angeles, California
“You said you were gonna give me somethin' to drink...”
Mr. White sighed softly as he made his way through the abandoned building that rested in one of the seamier parts of Los Angeles . The homeless man he'd picked up was beginning to grate on his nerves, but he tried to pay no mind. It wasn't like the man would have long left to live anyway.
“I'm afraid, Mr. Valentine,” White said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the elderly man, trying to ignore the rancid smell that permeated the street-dweller's clothing, “that I lied to you.”
The homeless man than began to gasp and wheeze, unable to breathe. As he fell to the ground, dying, White placed a cigarette between his lips. “What you're experiencing,” the villain explained as the man passed away, “is what it feels like when your lungs lose synch with this reality. Don't worry, you'll be dead in a moment.”
After the man had expired, and half of the cigarette had been smoked, White pulled out his cell phone. He waited patiently after dialing the number, savoring the draws of nicotine that filled his own pink lungs. Finally, the phone on the other end was answered. “Herr Zemo,” White greeted, “the applicant has met his end. I am ready to proceed.”
“Excellent, Mr. White,” the voice of Baron Helmut Zemo said through the phone's receiver, “do you have the syringe I provided you?”
Crouching down beside the deceased old man, White cradled the phone between his face and shoulder as he removed a large needle syringe from his coat pocket. “Yes, preparing to inject now. May I be so bold as to ask just what I'm injecting this degenerate with?”
“Years ago, I held a partnership with an artificially created humanoid being named Primus. The creature was synthesized out of unstable human genetic material, enabling him to shape-shift into a perfect copy of any person, down to the last DNA strand. What you are injecting our client with is a synthesized product of Primus' biological make-up. The proper sequence of genetic material in that syringe should produce the desired effect.”
“The package is delivered,” White said as he removed the empty needle from the man's neck. White backed away as the dead man's skin began to bubble and change shape, the smell causing the assassin's nostrils to flare in protest.
“Quantum will bring the rest of the materials to complete your mission,” Zemo replied, “you have done well.”
Hanging up the phone and placing it back in his pocket, Mr. White was immediately joined by the teleporting alien warrior named Quantum. The Dakkamite shoved a satchel into White's arms, and then was gone again in a flash of energy. Removing the contents of the bag, White again sighed. “You had best live up to your end of our agreement, Baron,” he muttered, “for I do not relish being an errand boy.”
A brief amount of time later, Mr. White exited the abandoned building, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his face as he crossed the street. He paid no attention to the van parked on the corner adjacent to him, a mistake he would later lament.
As he walked, he was suddenly struck by a blinding pain throughout his body, causing him to nearly collapse to his knees. He barely managed to keep from crying out, desperately making his way to a nearby alley on shaking legs. Bracing himself on the alley wall, he continued to be assaulted by the unexplained burst of pain. His eyes shut tightly closed in an attempt to flight off the unknown attack, he was oblivious to the large creature standing in the darkness behind him.
With no warning, the hulking monstrosity grabbed him about the shoulders and lifted him into the air. He was slammed against the wall facing him, then turned and slammed against the wall across the alley. This was repeated several more times, and – despite his attempts to phase himself into intangibility – found himself unable to withstand the physical force of the blows. Ultimately, unsurprisingly, he succumbed to unconsciousness, his limp body now cradled in the hands of the unknown monster.
Slowly, the attacker lumbered toward the unmarked van, the vehicle's back doors opening to greet the creature and his captive. “Well done, Abomination,” the robotic voice of the van's sole occupant, Dr. Sun, stated as the green and scaly gamma monster climbed aboard. “It appears I surmised correctly about Blackened White's dimensional synchrony. With his one advantage taken away from him by my genius, he was unable to withstand a physical assault.”
“Dr. Sun,” a voice buzzed through a radio transmission, “this is Typhoid, here in the building White came from. I just found something that the boss might be interested in.”
“What would that be, dear?” Sun replied through the communicator, heard clearly in the ear of Typhoid Mary as she stood in the center of the broken down building. A body lay before her, one that was undeniably recognizable due to the outlandish costume that covered its body.
“I found a dead guy,” Typhoid answered as she poked the dead man with the tip of her sword, “and you'll never believe who it is.”
“Please don't keep me in suspense,” Sun answered.
Typhoid Mary sighed as she took another look at the corpse in the purple and white costume. “I just found Baron Zemo...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: It's the giant-sized 25th issue of Thunderbolts, and boy have we got something special cooked up for you! The Teddy Bear Squad debuts and they're out for T-bolt scalps! Plus, we've got some very cool back-up stories from several of the best writers in fanfiction! Don't miss it!
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
Only one short letter this time, graciously provided by Steve Crosby! What'd he think about Thunderbolts # 23? Let's find out!
Damn that rocked. Though, truth be told, I expected a higher body count. Best scenes were the ones between Magneto and Zemo, particularly the end where Zemo declared them Nazi brothers. It was like Hitler and Stalin all over again.
Had "Industrial Strength" come out as originally planned, you would've seen a MUCH higher body count. But, because Alex unfortunately had to drop Fallen Angels, I didn't feel like killing off all the characters in another book would be looked nicely upon. And I'm glad you picked up on the Nazi comparisons between Zemo and Magneto because, really, Magneto IS like a Nazi.
That's all for this month, but be sure to check out the next issue...if not for me then for the awesome guest-writers we've got doing back-up stories! Guys like Will Short, Ian Astheimer, and Brent Lambert are gonna rock your socks off!
Chris Munn
11/13/04
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Jolt was killed by the Ladykiller in Thunderbolts # 19.
- The Living Lightning last appeared in Thunderbolts # 12.
- Rogue ended her relationship with Quicksilver in Avengers West Coast # 12.
- Vagabond was revealed to be an agent of Baron Zemo in Avengers West Coast # 8.
- Dr. Sun, the Abomination, and Typhoid Mary - members of the CSA's "Teddy Bear Squad" - were last seen in Thunderbolts # 19 .
- Baron Zemo's partnership with Primus occurred in Captain America # 275-278.
Three individuals stood outside the door to the seedy motel room, the yellow caution tape around the entrance causing their steely expressions to grimace even more. With a dismissive wave of a hand, the police tape was easily torn away, allowing them access to the crime scene. Upon entering the room, all three intruders suffered an involuntary shudder, the thought of what had happened inside causing them all to experience emotions they thought they had long been rid of.
“So this is where they found her?” Melissa Gold asked rhetorically, keeping watch on the door as the other two ventured further inside. Tape outlines of various discovered body parts marked the death scene of a young woman that all three had once called “teammate”, if not “friend”.
“Hallie didn't deserve this,” Erik Josten commented, his hands curled into tight fists as he ran his eyes over the poorly lit room. The bed sheets were still soaked through with blood and dried puddles of red had settled on the shag carpet.
“I'm still not sure why I agreed to join you two on this foolish quest,” Karla Sofen stated gruffly, taking a seat in one of the few chairs not stained with the life fluid of Hallie Takahama. “Even if this insane idea of yours works, it matters little to me. I never considered Jolt to be anything more than a nuisance during our time together. I have more important matters awaiting me back at our headquarters.”
“Abe's dead and both Zemo and Techno have vanished off the face of the planet,” Melissa immediately snapped back, “that leaves us as the only three Thunderbolts left. We owe it to Hallie to find out what happened to her.”
“And, if necessary,” Josten added, “avenge her.”
“Fine, fine,” Karla sighed, “but let's just get on with it, shall we? Where is that little barrio rat? He should have arrived well before us.”
“The little ‘barrio rat',” a Spanish accented voice said from just outside the door, “had to catch a real flight to Nuevo York, punta.” Melissa smiled as she stepped aside for the last of their party, allowing Miguel Santos passage into the motel room.
“Thanks for coming, Miguel,” Erik said, extending his hand out to greet the former Avenger, “it's good to see you again.”
“I was hoping never to hear from you people again,” Santos admitted as he knelt down closer to the floor, rubbing his fingers against an odd-shaped tape outline, “so just remember that I'm here to find out what happened to Hallie. I could care less what you locos do after this.”
“You sound ashamed of your time as a Thunderbolt,” Karla commented, a sly grin on her beautiful face, “I guess the whole ‘we want to be heroes' bit finally lost its luster for you.”
“Don't guilt trip me,” Miguel said, narrowing his eyes at his former teammate, “the Avengers won't even acknowledge me after my little tenure with you. I think they half expected me to show up in the news footage from Genosha.”
“Look, we're starting to forget why we're here,” Melissa said after closing the door to the room, “so why don't we get started?”
“There's no reason this plan should work,” Miguel admitted, “I'm not much practiced when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“You call yourself the Living Lightning, Santos ,” Karla said, “so let's see what we can do about making that moniker more apropos.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“You know, ah can't believe ah've never heard of this place before. You fellas sure need to start advertisin' more.”
Katrina van Horn, part time bartender at the “Bar With No Name”, cocked a curious eyebrow at the young girl sitting in the stool across from her. She'd recognized the girl immediately, the skunk stripe running down the center of her brown hair giving away her identity fairly easily. She wasn't sure just why the door man had let her in, but the brutish Katrina found comfort in the fact that the X-Man named Rogue obviously had no idea just where it was she had wandered into.
“So, ah just broke up with mah boyfriend,” Rogue said, her fifth beer placed in front of her as she spoke, “and ah was on mah way home, when ah decided that what ah really needed was a night out on the town before ah returned with mah tail planted between mah legs.”
Van Horn smiled, her attention now focused fully on the inebriated hero. “You say you just broke up with your boyfriend, huh?”
“Oh, yeah!” Rogue exclaimed before downing the rest of the beverage in her glass. “But ah should've seen it comin'. He had a wife and a kid and all, and ah was stupid for evah thinkin' we had a future together.”
“So, what are you doing later?” Katrina asked, resting her elbows on the bar in front of Rogue. “I get off at midnight if you wanna party for a while.”
“Back off, bull,” a man's voice threatened. Katrina turned her head slightly, wanting to see what man in the bar had the cojones to talk to her. Even though she didn't really go for that sort of thing, even she had to admit that the guy taking a seat directly beside Rogue was possibly the most attractive male she'd ever seen. His blonde hair hung in front of his face in perfectly combed wisps, and the leather ensemble covering his body told her that he obviously spent more time dressing in front of the mirror than most girls she knew.
“Oh, now who are you ?” Rogue asked coyly as she turned toward the newcomer. Realizing that she didn't have a chance in Hell, Katrina moved to another part of the bar, grumbling softly to herself.
“You have no idea where you are, do you?” the guy asked with a warm, inviting smile on his face. Rogue shook her head, her movements exaggerated by the amount of alcohol she'd ingested. “Well,” he continued, “I'd almost decided not to come to this place anymore. Looks like it was a good thing I came for one last night of debauchery, huh?”
“Mah name's Rogue,” she stated, placing a hand on the man's leg, following the movement with a sly wink, “what's yours?”
“Ladykiller,” he replied, his grin even larger than before, “can I buy you another drink?”
# # # # # # # # # #
“This isn't going to work,” Karla said, the statement followed by three shushing noises from the people surrounding her. The four sat in a circle on the motel room floor, a large space left in the middle of them that contained one of the larger tape outlines.
“Nobody move,” Miguel advised as he closed his eyes, “and nobody say a word.”
The three Thunderbolts waited impatiently, trying their best not to fidget too much, as Miguel concentrated on the electrical energies that were his to control. Twenty minutes passed before the first small flicker of light appeared before them.
Melissa gasped. “Is…is that…?”
Suddenly, the small spark exploded upward, swirling around in the circle formed by the four. Slowly, painfully, Miguel grasped hold of the electrical energy with his own power, reining it in by sheer force of will. Eventually, the energy coalesced into a recognizable shape, the energy patterns forming the face and upper body of a young woman known by all of them.
“Melissa…Erik…ZZZKKT?” the voice of Hallie Takahama buzzed, a look of confusion appearing on the face of the electrical being. “What's…ZZZKKT…going…on?”
“Hallie, we don't have much time,” Erik began, “Miguel managed to pull together your electrical essence from the air, but we don't know how long he can hold it. You need to tell us what happened to you, honey.”
“The…man…ZZZKKT…in the…bar…no name,” the wraith forced out, the effort as painful for her as it was for Miguel, “brought here…ZZZKKT…sex….couldn't control….myself…ZZZKKT…killed myself!”
“Suicide?” Karla asked. “How pedestrian.”
“ZZZKKT…he made…me…controlled ZZZKKT me!”
“What was his name , Hallie?” Melissa asked, fighting back tears as she spoke.
“Don't….ZZZKKT…know,” Jolt answered, her electrical body beginning to pulse uncontrollably, “called…ZZZKKT…Ladykiller…”
Then, without warning, the energy form of their deceased friend faded from view, but was then replaced by an explosive surge of energy that washed over the four, knocking them all onto their backs. Slowly, Karla, Erik, and Melissa all recovered their senses, rising from the carpeted floor. Miguel arose afterward, his body sizzling with the excess energy absorbed during the séance.
“The poor girl,” Erik muttered.
“Ladykiller,” Melissa stated, “what's a Ladykiller?”
“I am never trying a stunt that loco ever again,” Miguel expressed.
“If you'd paid attention,” Karla interjected, “you'd have heard her give us a place to start looking.”
All eyes turned toward Dr. Sofen.
“The Bar With No Name, anyone?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Los Angeles, California
Hammer Industries
Marsha Rosenberg hated packing, and she hated moving even more. It seemed as if every moment spent after becoming the villainous Volcana had been spent on the run, moving from place to place for her own safety. The thought of going on the move once again did not appeal to her, but her only other option was one that she'd firmly decided against the day before. She couldn't stay with the Thunderbolts a moment longer, and if that meant moving again, then so be it.
“I see the pressure's finally starting to get to some of us,” the voice of Melvin Potter asked from the open doorway, his arms fully wrapped in white bandages. “I was just wondering who was gonna crack first…frankly, I had good odds that it'd be me.”
“I can't take this kind of life, Melvin,” Marsha said as she closed the clasps on her suitcase, “all the death and destruction. We killed thousands of people when we attacked Genosha, and that's something I'll have to live with until the day I die. So, I'm leaving…maybe I'll try and find Owen again, start a real life again.”
“Marsha,” Melvin began, his voice tinged with sadness, “you're the only other normal person I've found here. The others are all psychos or sadists, but you're not. Please, don't go.”
“Melvin, I have to go,” she said, walking toward him with her suitcase in hand. Placing a hand on his face, she rubbed his cheek tenderly. “And if I were you, I'd leave, too.”
Gladiator lowered his head in defeat as Marsha moved past him, never once looking back as she made her way to the elevator. “She hates you, Melvin,” a hiss of a voice said inside his brain, “she's leaving because of you.”
Potter slowly moved his eyes; not wanting to acknowledge what he knew was there. Sitting on the bed was Betsy Beatty, the woman Melvin had loved more than life itself. The woman Melvin had watched die only six months before. Her skin was a sickly alabaster color, her clothes were torn and ragged, and he imagined he could almost smell the noxious scent of rotting flesh. “I'm the only one that loves you, Melvin,” the ghost said, licking her lips after speaking.
“You're not real, you're not real, you're not real…” Melvin muttered the mantra repeatedly as he closed his eyes tightly shut. After a long moment, he slowly cracked open his eyelids…and Betsy was gone.
# # # # # # # # # #
“I know we're getting paid a king's ransom, mates – and you all know how much I love money – but I think it's time to cut our losses and get the bloody fuck out of dodge.”
Sitting around a small table in an empty room deep within Hammer's facility, Mark Scarlotti furrowed his brow in consternation. Fred Meyers had said his peace, given his opinion on their current situation. The third man in the room, Donny Gill, hadn't said a word since Meyers had called them to their secret meeting, content with simply slumping down in his chair and listening.
“Do you really think,” Mark replied to Fred's comments, “that Hammer would let us leave?”
“That Volcana chick is leavin'!” Boomerang answered sharply.
“That's different,” Scarlotti again replied, “Moonstone brought her in as an independent agent. And, at least as far as I can figure out, she's outlived her usefulness now that the Genosha strike is over. Girl's playing it smart, ‘cause if she stayed she'd probably end up dead.”
“What the fuck do you think I've been trying to say this whole time, Mark?” Fred yelled, waving his hands in the air to accent his frantic tone. “If we stay, we're gonna die. Hammer ain't fuckin' around anymore, and we're not just flunkies. We graduated to terrorist status, mates...we invaded another fucking country. How long ‘til the Avengers or SHIELD come bustin' in our doors looking for our scalps? Or shit, you really think that Magneto bloke is just gonna let this lie?”
“Guys, I don't think I can handle this anymore,” Donny finally spoke up. “I mean, the only reason I was sticking around was for you guys and for Missy. Now she acts like I don't even exist and I keep getting my ass kicked. Hell, I don't even know if Blizzard has a future anymore after my suit got shredded in Genosha...”
“Fuck Screaming Mimi, pal,” Fred said as he leaned back in his chair, “let the bitch moan over her dead ex-boyfriend and move on.”
“Here's the thing, guys,” Mark interjected, “we are terrorists, if not in name then most definitely in fact. If we run, we lose the only protection we've got from the law, namely Hammer's influence. He's made deals to keep himself from hanging over the Genosha thing, whatever they may be, and he's the only shot we've got to come out of this without a prison sentence.”
“Fuck,” Fred replied, knowing his friend was correct in his assumptions, “fuck, fuck, and fuck. I guess I'm here to stay then, right?”
“Mark, think about your wife and kid,” Donny commented, “what if the worst case scenario happens and you don't walk away from all this?”
“She's my ex-wife, Donny,” Mark said, a scowl on his face as he spoke, “and she said something to me a while back that opened my eyes a little. I chose this life for myself, and nothing I can say will change that. So if I die here, well...I've only myself to blame.”
“So we're the Three Musketeers, then,” Fred said with a smile, “all for one, and fuck the rest.”
Finally a slight smile appeared on Blizzard's face as he sat up straight in his seat. “With friends like these...” he said sarcastically.
# # # # # # # # # #
New York City
The Bar With No Name
“Ah really don't know about this,” Rogue said as the striking gentleman she'd just met pulled her toward the back door of the bar, “ah think ah've had too much to drink...”
“No worries, babe,” Ladykiller replied with a wink and a smile, pushing open the door to the alley behind the bar, “I promised I'd show you a good time, didn't I?”
Rogue sheepishly returned the man's smile, a blush coming onto her cheeks.
“Trust me,” he said, pulling her through the doorway, the door slamming behind them.
In the span of a breath, Ladykiller had the young woman pressed against the building's brick wall, his hands roaming across her clothed body. Keeping his face a teasing distance away from hers, he explored Rogue's ample curves with the precision of a Casanova. Through it all, his eyes remained locked with hers.
“Your will is mine now,” he whispered, “your only desire will be to satisfy my slightest whim.”
Rogue's expression had gone blank upon the application of the man's incredible mental power. She was his, body and soul, and even had she wanted to fight his influence she knew she would fail. She was his slave, his toy to do with as he would. “Ah'm yours,” she moaned, returning his gropes and caresses with a passion she'd rarely felt in her life. They two leaned into each other and kissed, passionately...and the Ladykiller felt something he'd never felt before. His life began to drain away from him as Rogue's mutant power activated from their flesh-on-flesh contact.
Suddenly, the door to the bar opened, startling the couple and breaking their embrace. Katrina van Horn entered the alley, two large garbage bags in hand, but immediately stopped short when she saw the dashing young man from the bar fall unconscious to the ground in front of Rogue. “What the fuck's going on back here?” the Man-Killer asked fiercely.
“This is quite unexpected,” Rogue said, rubbing her hands over her chest and hips, taking in the curves of her own body. Her speech patterns had changed, the southern drawl of her accent gone in favor of one more proper. Man-Killer stood in confusion as the X-Man bent down to the man crumpled down in front of her and searched through his jacket pocket. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Rogue winked at van Horn. “The Ladykiller's driving this boat now, princess,” Rogue said while lighting the cigarette between her lips, “and it looks like I'm gonna get two for one tonight...”
# # # # # # # # # #
“Well, if there was one place on Earth I hoped never to go to again...”
Melissa and Karla each took a bemused glance at Erik Josten, their large friend obviously uncomfortable in their surroundings. The Bar With No Name was an establishment that every super-villain frequented at least one time during their careers, a place that acted almost as a haven for those that operated outside of the law. There had originally been just the one, but the Bar had taken on a life of it's own and established franchises in every major city in the country. Of course, no super-villain could forget what had happened at the original Bar...a massacre of their own perpetrated by a man known only as the Scourge of the Underworld. In the back of every patron's mind was the thought that, one day, the Scourge could choose to walk into any Bar they inhabited and repeat the incident.
“So what are we looking for here?” Moonstone asked as they took a table in a far corner of the bar. “Someone with a big sign that says I kill super heroines for fun , perhaps?”
“How can you act like this, Karla?” Melissa asked. “You cared about Hallie as much as any of us. The stone bitch routine only works when you have suspension of disbelief.”
“I wish Miguel could've come,” Erik said, hoping to break the tension between the two women, “we might need him.”
“The moment I need that barrio rat,” Moonstone scoffed, “is the moment I'll willingly put a gun to my temple and pull the trigger.”
Suddenly, a loud crash was heard, directing everyone's attention to the outer wall of the bar. Crashing through the brick and mortar was a muscular red-haired woman, a woman who the three Thunderbolts immediately recognized as Katrina van Horn, the Man-Killer. Katrina flew across the expanse of the room, eventually crashing violently into the bar she usually stood behind. Wood and brass broke into pieces as she landed, and every one gasped slightly when the brutish woman didn't get up, remaining unconscious in the debris.
“I have to say,” Rogue, her consciousness overtaken by the absorbed psyche of the Ladykiller, said as she emerged through the hole Man-Killer had made, “I've suddenly acquired a new-found respect for physical super powers.”
“Should we do something?” Erik asked, standing from his chair. Karla placed a hand on his muscular arm, prompting him to return to his seat.
“Rogue's a superhero,” Moonstone stated, “so reason dictates that van Horn probably had that coming to her.”
Having made her way to the stunned Man-Killer, Rogue/Ladykiller grabbed her shirt collar and lifted her into the air. “I have to say, you're much more of a challenge than Diamondback or that Thunderbolts kid. Of course, the seduction route is probably wasted on you anyway.”
The three Thunderbolts immediately looked at one another, their expressions ones of shock and realization. Josten immediately sprang from the table, running through the fleeing patrons on his way to the two fighting women. With a punch that would've taken the head off of a normal person, Erik cracked Rogue in the jaw, and only in hindsight did he thank Karla for making them wear their uniforms under their coats.
Dropping Man-Killer to the ground, Rogue regained her senses and blew a kiss at Josten. “I normally don't swing both ways,” the possessed X-Man said, “but I'll be more than happy to make you the exception, sweet-cheeks.”
Goliath said nothing as he tripled in size, tearing his way through the ceiling of the bar while throwing another massive fist in Rogue's direction. This time, however, the superhumanly strong mutant caught the giant's fist. “I just figured out who you are, man,” Rogue said as she pulled with all her strength on Erik's arm, causing him to topple down toward her, “and I can guess why you're here.” Rogue cocked her own arm back, swinging her first forward just as Goliath's face came down to her. The blow struck directly between Josten's eyes, knocking him out instantly.
“I think that's enough out of you,” Songbird said, her sonic scream transformed by the carapace around her shoulders into forms of solid sound. The sonic constructs wrapped around Rogue's flailing form, wrapping her tightly in unbreakable bonds.
“Did you kill Hallie Takahama?” Moonstone asked as she approached the captive Rogue.
“Blow me, bitch,” Rogue answered with a smirk.
“Did you kill her? ” Moonstone asked again, this time her voice raised to a yell. Dr. Sofen began to punch the woman in the face, her own enhanced strength making each blow hit with the force of a tank shell. She continued to punch Rogue with all her strength, not noticing the tears that streamed down her own face as she lost her composure in a fit of rage.
“Whoa, Karla, that's enough!” Erik shouted as he grabbed Moonstone from behind, pulling her away from the battered and beaten Rogue. Still holding the mutant in her sonic bonds, Melissa examined the woman's face.
“She's not messed up too bad,” Songbird said, “guess she has some pretty potent invulnerability of her own.”
Slowly, Rogue's eyes fluttered open, coughing as she tried to speak. “Ah...Ah'm sorry. Ah didn't mean to, ah was possessed.”
“Possessed?” Songbird asked, confused.
“The effect of mah power finally wore off,” Rogue continued, “and the scumbag that was controlling me – ah could see him killing your friend in his memories – he's outside in the alley!”
Moonstone hesitated none as she let loose a force blast, blowing yet another large hole in the bar wall. However, when she and Erik made their way outside, they found no one. The man responsible for their battle had fled upon regaining his own body, choosing discretion over valor.
“You said you saw his memories, Rogue,” Songbird asked, reluctantly dissolving her sonic bonds that held the woman captive, “who is he? Where can we find him?”
“Ah don't really know,” Rogue answered, slightly embarrassed, “he only let me see what he wanted me to see. He's killed women all over the city, and he was gonna kill me.”
“What's his name, X-Man?” Moonstone asked, her voice still terse with anger.
“His name's Ladykiller,” Rogue replied, “and I think he's gonna be pissed that we messed up his perfect record.”
Across the bar, Katrina van Horn finally regained consciousness, though she still felt dazed from the massive blow that Rogue had struck across her jaw. “Where is the bitch?” she asked groggily. “I'll fuckin' kill her skank ass!”
“Ms. Van Horn,” a voice said from behind her, followed by a hand placed on her shoulder, “forget your petty vendetta for a moment.”
Man-Killer turned her head and found a man crouched down beside her, a trenchcoat and hat hiding a face and body adorned with cybernetic devices. “Who are you and why shouldn't I kick your balls into your throat?”
“I am the Fixer,” the man replied, “and I have a job offer for you...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Los Angeles, California
“You said you were gonna give me somethin' to drink...”
Mr. White sighed softly as he made his way through the abandoned building that rested in one of the seamier parts of Los Angeles . The homeless man he'd picked up was beginning to grate on his nerves, but he tried to pay no mind. It wasn't like the man would have long left to live anyway.
“I'm afraid, Mr. Valentine,” White said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the elderly man, trying to ignore the rancid smell that permeated the street-dweller's clothing, “that I lied to you.”
The homeless man than began to gasp and wheeze, unable to breathe. As he fell to the ground, dying, White placed a cigarette between his lips. “What you're experiencing,” the villain explained as the man passed away, “is what it feels like when your lungs lose synch with this reality. Don't worry, you'll be dead in a moment.”
After the man had expired, and half of the cigarette had been smoked, White pulled out his cell phone. He waited patiently after dialing the number, savoring the draws of nicotine that filled his own pink lungs. Finally, the phone on the other end was answered. “Herr Zemo,” White greeted, “the applicant has met his end. I am ready to proceed.”
“Excellent, Mr. White,” the voice of Baron Helmut Zemo said through the phone's receiver, “do you have the syringe I provided you?”
Crouching down beside the deceased old man, White cradled the phone between his face and shoulder as he removed a large needle syringe from his coat pocket. “Yes, preparing to inject now. May I be so bold as to ask just what I'm injecting this degenerate with?”
“Years ago, I held a partnership with an artificially created humanoid being named Primus. The creature was synthesized out of unstable human genetic material, enabling him to shape-shift into a perfect copy of any person, down to the last DNA strand. What you are injecting our client with is a synthesized product of Primus' biological make-up. The proper sequence of genetic material in that syringe should produce the desired effect.”
“The package is delivered,” White said as he removed the empty needle from the man's neck. White backed away as the dead man's skin began to bubble and change shape, the smell causing the assassin's nostrils to flare in protest.
“Quantum will bring the rest of the materials to complete your mission,” Zemo replied, “you have done well.”
Hanging up the phone and placing it back in his pocket, Mr. White was immediately joined by the teleporting alien warrior named Quantum. The Dakkamite shoved a satchel into White's arms, and then was gone again in a flash of energy. Removing the contents of the bag, White again sighed. “You had best live up to your end of our agreement, Baron,” he muttered, “for I do not relish being an errand boy.”
A brief amount of time later, Mr. White exited the abandoned building, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his face as he crossed the street. He paid no attention to the van parked on the corner adjacent to him, a mistake he would later lament.
As he walked, he was suddenly struck by a blinding pain throughout his body, causing him to nearly collapse to his knees. He barely managed to keep from crying out, desperately making his way to a nearby alley on shaking legs. Bracing himself on the alley wall, he continued to be assaulted by the unexplained burst of pain. His eyes shut tightly closed in an attempt to flight off the unknown attack, he was oblivious to the large creature standing in the darkness behind him.
With no warning, the hulking monstrosity grabbed him about the shoulders and lifted him into the air. He was slammed against the wall facing him, then turned and slammed against the wall across the alley. This was repeated several more times, and – despite his attempts to phase himself into intangibility – found himself unable to withstand the physical force of the blows. Ultimately, unsurprisingly, he succumbed to unconsciousness, his limp body now cradled in the hands of the unknown monster.
Slowly, the attacker lumbered toward the unmarked van, the vehicle's back doors opening to greet the creature and his captive. “Well done, Abomination,” the robotic voice of the van's sole occupant, Dr. Sun, stated as the green and scaly gamma monster climbed aboard. “It appears I surmised correctly about Blackened White's dimensional synchrony. With his one advantage taken away from him by my genius, he was unable to withstand a physical assault.”
“Dr. Sun,” a voice buzzed through a radio transmission, “this is Typhoid, here in the building White came from. I just found something that the boss might be interested in.”
“What would that be, dear?” Sun replied through the communicator, heard clearly in the ear of Typhoid Mary as she stood in the center of the broken down building. A body lay before her, one that was undeniably recognizable due to the outlandish costume that covered its body.
“I found a dead guy,” Typhoid answered as she poked the dead man with the tip of her sword, “and you'll never believe who it is.”
“Please don't keep me in suspense,” Sun answered.
Typhoid Mary sighed as she took another look at the corpse in the purple and white costume. “I just found Baron Zemo...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: It's the giant-sized 25th issue of Thunderbolts, and boy have we got something special cooked up for you! The Teddy Bear Squad debuts and they're out for T-bolt scalps! Plus, we've got some very cool back-up stories from several of the best writers in fanfiction! Don't miss it!
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
Only one short letter this time, graciously provided by Steve Crosby! What'd he think about Thunderbolts # 23? Let's find out!
Damn that rocked. Though, truth be told, I expected a higher body count. Best scenes were the ones between Magneto and Zemo, particularly the end where Zemo declared them Nazi brothers. It was like Hitler and Stalin all over again.
Had "Industrial Strength" come out as originally planned, you would've seen a MUCH higher body count. But, because Alex unfortunately had to drop Fallen Angels, I didn't feel like killing off all the characters in another book would be looked nicely upon. And I'm glad you picked up on the Nazi comparisons between Zemo and Magneto because, really, Magneto IS like a Nazi.
That's all for this month, but be sure to check out the next issue...if not for me then for the awesome guest-writers we've got doing back-up stories! Guys like Will Short, Ian Astheimer, and Brent Lambert are gonna rock your socks off!
Chris Munn
11/13/04
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Jolt was killed by the Ladykiller in Thunderbolts # 19.
- The Living Lightning last appeared in Thunderbolts # 12.
- Rogue ended her relationship with Quicksilver in Avengers West Coast # 12.
- Vagabond was revealed to be an agent of Baron Zemo in Avengers West Coast # 8.
- Dr. Sun, the Abomination, and Typhoid Mary - members of the CSA's "Teddy Bear Squad" - were last seen in Thunderbolts # 19 .
- Baron Zemo's partnership with Primus occurred in Captain America # 275-278.