Mark Scarlotti sat alone at the table, his beer warming after being left unattended and forgotten in front of him. He'd intentionally picked the far back corner of the Bar With No Name, hoping that the shadows would help to hide his identity. He'd recognized a few faces on his way in – the daughter of Deadly Ernest, the second Eel, even the Wizard, who usually thought such establishments to be beneath him – but he'd entered sans-mask. Only the doorman, a former associate from his days in the mob, knew who he really was.
And that was important, because the person he was meeting didn't like her presence to be announced.
He knew he was being a fool, that his great plan would probably get him killed prematurely. He'd long grown to the point of not caring, however, because he knew that if he didn't go through with his idea he would definitely get killed sooner or later. Finally grabbing hold of the beer bottle's neck, he took a silent drink for his two best friends. He was doing this for them, too, even if they didn't know it yet.
“Blacklash, I presume?” a woman's voice asked, causing him to nearly choke on the beer that was pouring down his throat. She had materialized without warning in the seat across the table from him, her legs already kicked up onto the tabletop and a cigarette lit between her fingers. The girl was good, no doubt about that.
“That's right,” Scarlotti said after a brief fit of coughs, “and you're Odessa ?”
She smiled and nodded, taking a slow drag on her cigarette. The girl was young, but not too young; pretty, but not too pretty. It was the look in her eyes that made her attractive, the sense of danger and mystique that most super-villainesses wished they possessed. But she wasn't a villain, not really. If she were ever to be apprehended, the most the law would be able to pin on her would be aiding and abetting . Guilt by association was her given profession, apparently, and it had only taken a few inquiries to the right parties to set up their meeting.
“I heard you moved to the west coast,” she said, taking his beer in her hand, pausing her sentence to take a drink, “and don't look so surprised. I keep tabs on all the players, from the powerhouses to the never-beens.”
“I was in town visiting my wife and daughter,” Mark admitted, not sure why he was being so honest with a woman he'd only just met. Honesty was not something that came easily in their line of work. “To be completely truthful, I wasn't sure if you really existed. Urban legends tend to be disappointing when you meet them in the flesh.”
“Prick me and I bleed, Mr. Scarlotti,” she replied, the smoke from her cigarette forming a halo around her face. In the dim light of the bar, she looked almost heavenly. “So let's talk shop. I hear you're interested in visiting Club Nowhere.”
And there it was...the pitch. Odessa had become something of a myth amongst the costumed villain circles, someone that people would talk about in hushed tones while planning a major gig. Once this score is done, they'd say, Odessa is getting me the fuck out of here. And the ones that were successful, the ones that didn't get caught by one of the numerous heroes in the world, would just disappear one day.
They would escape.
“A year-long stay in a subdimensional tesseract,” she continued with the sales pitch, “space enough for you and a limited number of partners. The fee is considerable, Mr. Scarlotti...and I've had quite a few surprising names interested in this piece of space.”
It was the Underground Railroad for supervillains, courtesy of Odessa and her Omega Class teleportational power. For the right amount of money, she would scoop you out of 3-dimensional space and deposit you in one of her pocket dimensions, custom-fit to your own specifications. It was a hideout that no cop or hero could ever intrude upon, and for the time bought you could escape there any time you wanted. For some clients, it was the only way out of the lifestyle before their time clock got permanently punched.
“Money's no problem,” Mark answered, lying through his teeth, “and we only need space for three: myself, Fred Myers, and Donny Gill.”
“When do you need to be extracted?” she asked, a toss of her head brushing shoulder-length red hair away from her face.
“As soon as possible,” Blacklash said quickly, “we need to get out before we die.”
“Then I'll begin the preparations,” she said, softly butting out her cigarette on the heel of her boot beneath the table, “and contact you when I'm ready to pull you out.”
And just like that...she was gone, leaving Mark alone at the table. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, hoping that the deal he'd just made hadn't doomed everything he was hoping to save.
And that was important, because the person he was meeting didn't like her presence to be announced.
He knew he was being a fool, that his great plan would probably get him killed prematurely. He'd long grown to the point of not caring, however, because he knew that if he didn't go through with his idea he would definitely get killed sooner or later. Finally grabbing hold of the beer bottle's neck, he took a silent drink for his two best friends. He was doing this for them, too, even if they didn't know it yet.
“Blacklash, I presume?” a woman's voice asked, causing him to nearly choke on the beer that was pouring down his throat. She had materialized without warning in the seat across the table from him, her legs already kicked up onto the tabletop and a cigarette lit between her fingers. The girl was good, no doubt about that.
“That's right,” Scarlotti said after a brief fit of coughs, “and you're Odessa ?”
She smiled and nodded, taking a slow drag on her cigarette. The girl was young, but not too young; pretty, but not too pretty. It was the look in her eyes that made her attractive, the sense of danger and mystique that most super-villainesses wished they possessed. But she wasn't a villain, not really. If she were ever to be apprehended, the most the law would be able to pin on her would be aiding and abetting . Guilt by association was her given profession, apparently, and it had only taken a few inquiries to the right parties to set up their meeting.
“I heard you moved to the west coast,” she said, taking his beer in her hand, pausing her sentence to take a drink, “and don't look so surprised. I keep tabs on all the players, from the powerhouses to the never-beens.”
“I was in town visiting my wife and daughter,” Mark admitted, not sure why he was being so honest with a woman he'd only just met. Honesty was not something that came easily in their line of work. “To be completely truthful, I wasn't sure if you really existed. Urban legends tend to be disappointing when you meet them in the flesh.”
“Prick me and I bleed, Mr. Scarlotti,” she replied, the smoke from her cigarette forming a halo around her face. In the dim light of the bar, she looked almost heavenly. “So let's talk shop. I hear you're interested in visiting Club Nowhere.”
And there it was...the pitch. Odessa had become something of a myth amongst the costumed villain circles, someone that people would talk about in hushed tones while planning a major gig. Once this score is done, they'd say, Odessa is getting me the fuck out of here. And the ones that were successful, the ones that didn't get caught by one of the numerous heroes in the world, would just disappear one day.
They would escape.
“A year-long stay in a subdimensional tesseract,” she continued with the sales pitch, “space enough for you and a limited number of partners. The fee is considerable, Mr. Scarlotti...and I've had quite a few surprising names interested in this piece of space.”
It was the Underground Railroad for supervillains, courtesy of Odessa and her Omega Class teleportational power. For the right amount of money, she would scoop you out of 3-dimensional space and deposit you in one of her pocket dimensions, custom-fit to your own specifications. It was a hideout that no cop or hero could ever intrude upon, and for the time bought you could escape there any time you wanted. For some clients, it was the only way out of the lifestyle before their time clock got permanently punched.
“Money's no problem,” Mark answered, lying through his teeth, “and we only need space for three: myself, Fred Myers, and Donny Gill.”
“When do you need to be extracted?” she asked, a toss of her head brushing shoulder-length red hair away from her face.
“As soon as possible,” Blacklash said quickly, “we need to get out before we die.”
“Then I'll begin the preparations,” she said, softly butting out her cigarette on the heel of her boot beneath the table, “and contact you when I'm ready to pull you out.”
And just like that...she was gone, leaving Mark alone at the table. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, hoping that the deal he'd just made hadn't doomed everything he was hoping to save.
Back to GatefoldIssue #26 by Chris Munn
Living Each Day Like You're Already Dead |
“If you don't stop squirming, I'm going to pop you like a fucking zit!”
The Abomination struggled with all his might as the fingers of Erik Josten crushed down around his body. Nearly a thousand pounds of gamma-powered destruction, and he was being killed by a guy with a massive thyroid problem...things were not going well. Goliath had shot his height past the 75-feet mark; his heartbeats were like thunder, and Blonsky could feel them through the giant's hands. They were outside the building now, and the police and news helicopters were already swarming below them. Any chance of eliminating the Thunderbolts secretly was gone, but the Abomination really didn't care. He just didn't want to die.
“You attacked our women?” Josten yelled, his voice causing sonic booms throughout the area. “You're a monster and you attacked someone who couldn't fight you off?”
The Abomination attempted to reply with a gruff “fuck you”, but it only came out as a muffled whimper. His rock-hard skin was cracking and shattering across his body, and he knew his time was almost up...so he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his mouth and bit down on the widest area of skin on Goliath's fingers that he could fit between his teeth.
Erik screamed and released his grip, a wave of his arm creating a gust of wind that knocked the fluttering helicopters through the air. The Abomination took the advantage, jumping from the man's hands and attaching himself to his opponent's shirt. He grinned a row of razored teeth as he climbed up the chest of the giant. “I was content to let one of the others have you,” he growled, not caring if Josten could hear him or not, “but now you're mine!”
“Oh, fuck this,” Goliath replied while pulling the Abomination free from his shirt, “and fuck you.” With the gamma monster clutched in his hand, he raised his arm high into the air and thrust it down toward the ground. Emil Blonsky crashed into the ground, flattened between the concrete parking lot of Hammer Industries and the open palm of the towering giant above him. Unbelievably, he was still conscious when Josten removed his hand.
“That...all you...got?” the Abomination taunted as he rolled around in the crater, moving onto his back. He saw the sole of Goliath's boot descending upon him a moment before it hit.
“I can still feel you moving,” Goliath stated as he ground his heel atop his enemy, deepening the hole he'd made in the earth, “what does it take to kill you?” After several long minutes of stomping and grinding, Erik finally stopped and removed his foot. The Abomination was alive, albeit barely, but had passed into unconsciousness.
“Mr. Josten!” a voice said from the ground, projected through a bullhorn. “Reduce your size and surrender or we will be forced to open fire!”
Goliath raised a curious eyebrow at the ants below him, insects that were daring to threaten him with their puny guns. He hesitated for a long time...
...and contemplated how easy it would be to just smash them all.
# # # # # # # # # #
He'd long lost feeling in most parts of his body and he'd gone blind in one eye. Richard Rennsalaer, the Overrider, was in serious trouble. The bees were covering every inch of his exposed skin, the horde of insects under the control of the creature standing several feet away. The monster's name was Swarm, and the bees weren't just being directed by him...they were him.
"If you are the most dangerous of your group," Swarm said, his German accent coming through the shrill buzz of his voice, "then your teammates are most likely already dead."
Even had Overrider wanted to respond, his throat was already too swollen from stings for him to choke out words. He'd stopped his frantic flailing and was laying, nearly lifeless, on the floor of the Thunderbolts' communications room. His mutant power to control electronics was useless against a strictly biological threat, but still his mind reached out. His thoughts called out to the one thing that could possibly save his life.
"Vas ist...?" Swarm said as the floor began to shake. Suddenly, the ground exploded upward as the robot juggernaut known as TESS-1 tore his way into the room from below, guided by the desperate thoughts of its master. Taken by surprise, Swarm's body dispersed into a mist of insects, but they were ineffectual against the machine as it scooped up Rennsalaer's still body into its arms.
TESS-1 looked at the ravaged body of the Overrider, and it almost seemed as if the robot's blank face was expressing emotion at the sight of what had happened. After the momentary pause, TESS-1 activated its bootjets and flew through the ceiling, blasting its way up the remaining floors of the building, determined to reach a safe distance from its enemy.
Slowly, the bees that remained in the room came back together beneath the discarded purple cloak on the floor. Swarm returned to his humanoid shape and took a look at the hole blasted in the ceiling of the room. "Very well," he said to himself as he turned away to leave, "I shall simply have to find another to slay."
# # # # # # # # # #
The door slid open with the hiss of hydraulics, exposing the pitch dark room to the assassin that was entering from the hallway. Every light on that floor and the ones directly above and below had gone out as the killer made his way through the building. His name was Blackout, a mutant whose body extinguished all light in his immediate vicinity, and he could smell his chosen target a mile away.
"Come on in," the voice of Melvin Potter said from the far side of the room. He was unable to see Blackout in the darkness, but he knew he was there nonetheless.
"Gladiator," Blackout hissed as he moved forward with confidence, "I suppose you know why I am here?"
"To kill me, right?" Potter said from his sitting position at the end of his bed. Seen through Blackout's supernatural eyes, the Gladiator was nearly naked. Bandages covered his arms, the result of a lost battle during the war in Genosha, and he made no attempt to fight his would-be murderer.
"I am a vampire," Blackout said as he walked along the far wall of the room, stopping when he was directly in front of his victim, "and I am quite hungry at the moment. Yes, you will die...eventually."
Melvin laughed softly and buried his face in his hands.
"You...laugh at me?" Blackout asked, stunned at the actions of a man he decided must be mad.
"I wish you could kill me," Potter answered, lifting his head to look at the albino vampire in front of him, "but you can't. She won't let me die."
"She...?" Blackout began, but stopped when he heard a noise behind him. He turned quickly, ready to eviscerate anyone foolish enough to attempt to take him by surprise. His eyes widened when he saw the dead woman standing only inches away, an evil smile on her maggot-ridden face.
Blackout's screams echoed throughout the empty floor of the building, but no one heard the last sound he would ever make.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Flee as far and fast as you like, my friend...the Living Vampire shall slake his thirst on you before my end comes nigh!”
Simon Maddicks, the mercenary more commonly known as the Killer Shrike, sighed as he flew across the high high-ceilinged training facility inside the Thunderbolts' headquarters. He'd only heard of his pursuer in hushed whispers during his career; Michael Morbius, the scientist who transformed himself into a “scientific vampire”, had made only sporadic appearances around the country, mainly coming out of hiding to bother Spider-Man. Just why he had taken it upon himself to break into Hammer Industries and attack the first person he found was a mystery to the Shrike, but the sickly pale monster's intentions were clear as day.
“How about you back off for a bit?” Maddicks asked with a smirk as he propelled through the air, aided by the glider wings affixed to his arms. “I'd hate to get any bits of you on my outfit when I blast you into pulp.”
Morbius hissed as he dodged the blast of coherent light produced by the Shrike's bladed gauntlets. “Your blood calls to me, and long ago did Morbius vow only to drink the blood of the guilty . All here shall fall before my fangs!”
Simon shook his head and rolled into a freefall, increasing the distance between he and his foe. He had no need for worry; the vampire was obviously far slower than he when it came to a fight. The Shrike was more concerned about his teammate below, who was obviously having a little more trouble with his opponent. Fred Meyers, Boomerang, was flying erratically close to the ground, blood trailing on the floor below him from the cuts on his ankle. Another old Spider-Man foe, one that Maddicks recognized easily without an introduction, was leaping frantically, trying its best to get Meyers within range of its claws once again.
“Morbius and the Lizard, huh?” Killer Shrike said as he intercepted the reptilian form of Curt Conners with a blast of energy from his wristbands. “Somebody decide to sic the Monster Squad on us or something?”
“I have no bloody idea,” Boomerang answered as he paused in his flight long enough to toss one of his patented electrorangs a the descending Morbius, lightning the Living Vampire with enough volts of electricity to send him shrieking to the far end of the room, “but I do know that I'm bleeding like a mother fucker over here. Think we need any help, mate?”
Maddicks laughed loudly as he touched his feet to the ground, his gauntlets needing a brief moment to re-energize. “C'mon, man... Spider-Man took these clowns. Two professionals like us, think we're gonna have any problems?”
Meyers smiled at his comrade's statement before tossing a duo of razorrangs at the recovering Morbius, slicing the vampire across the shoulder and thigh. As long as they kept their distance from the two, Boomerang decided no, they wouldn't have any problems at all. The two monsters were close-range fighters, after all, and both he and the Shrike had the advantage. He turned back toward Maddicks, ready to apply a few smart-ass comments of his own, but the words died in his throat. “Shrike, mate, behind you!” he yelled, his eyes wide with realization and his hand already reaching for another boomerang to throw.
The Killer Shrike turned on his heels just in time to see the Lizard leaping at him, saliva running freely from its salivating jaws. Normally, the Lizard had a mind of its own, intelligent and devious, but something had changed it into a mindless beast consumed with bloodlust. Maddicks knew he was done even as he threw his fist forward, his gauntlets only recharged to half-power. The beast wasn't going to stop and he was going to die.
As the Lizard reached him, it suddenly stopped and hovered in mid-air before being pulled backward against its will. The vines of ivy constricted tightly around Curt Conners' body, choking breath and snapping bones as the animated plants wrapped around the beast, cutting off its snarls and shrieks of protest. When the Lizard stopped moving, the vines released, tossing the animal to the ground.
“Oh my god,” Maddicks said while exhaling nervously, “I thought I was a fucking dead man.”
Samuel Smithers, Taproot, frowned as the vines he had produced from the small potted plant carried in his arms returned to their natural state. “The creature was an abortion in the eyes of nature,” he said as he stroked the leaves of his favorite plant, “what I did was done for the Green, not for you.”
“I'm sure he's appreciative anyway, Smithers ol' chum,” Meyers said as he landed between the two men from above, “any idea what's going on?”
“We are under an assault of some sort,” the being formerly known as the Plant-Man replied, “but it appears to be a poorly planned one.”
“We should find Hammer,” Maddicks asked.
“Why's that, Shrikey?” Boomerang asked as he followed Simon to the door, leaving Taproot behind them.
“Because he's the one that signs my fucking paycheck,” Killer Shrike answered with a grin as he opened the door. He stopped short when he saw the man standing outside, his arm twisted and deformed into what appeared to be a large gun. The man with the scarred, burned face raised his arm, and bullets exploded from the fleshy barrel like a minigun. Simon Maddicks' chest exploded in blood and shattered bone, the meat and red covering Boomerang from the force of the bullets' exit out the Shrike's back.
“Holy shit!” Meyers yelled as he dove for the floor, barely avoiding the barrage of death that flared from their newest attacker's arm/gun. “Smithers, some fucking help here!”
“He is no danger to me,” Taproot said as he took a step forward, “cover your eyes, Fred.” Before he could advance further, however, Morbius fell from the sky and landed across Smithers' back, his eyes maniacally wild with madness. The vampire sunk his fangs into the Plant-Man's neck, ripping through the thick leather coat that was Samuel's only protection. Taproot didn't scream, his eyes simply grew large with confusion while Morbius drank deep of the fluid in his jugular vein. After a moment, Morbius tore his teeth free from his prey's throat, spitting and coughing from the green liquid that was pouring from the wound he'd created.
“What cruel joke is this,” the vampire scientist bellowed while still attached to Taproot's back, “that I slake my thirst on one who has no true blood in his veins?”
“Shut up, you creepy fuck,” the man with the gun for an arm said as he again raised his hand and sprayed the room with bullets. Over one hundred rounds tore through Smithers' body, and subsequently Morbius' as well, forcing both men to fall to the floor. After he stopped firing, he watched to make sure neither of his victims moved in their puddle of green and red blood.
Boomerang was still on the floor, in shock at what he'd just seen. The man that had just murdered his teammates turned toward him and leveled his skin-covered assault weapon at his face. “My name's Bushwacker,” he said, “you ready for me to go for a hat-trick?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Moonstone furrowed her brow as she flew high above the building that was being used as the Thunderbolts' base of operations. The damage to the north side of the facility was extensive, caused by the urgent exit that Goliath had made during his battle with the Abomination. Josten was still towering at close to 100 feet, his head craned down to look at the assembled mass of police and reporters that had gathered at the gates of the facility. Things were most certainly not going well.
“Erik, what are you doing?” Songbird asked her giant friend as she and Moonstone circled around his head, a look of worry and concern displayed on her beautiful face. “Shrink down, please, before you do something you'll regret.”
“Why should I, Mel?” Josten asked, his voice still booming across the area due to his size. “They're just going to try and arrest us again, put us in jail again. Why shouldn't I just kill them all?”
“Well, for one thing,” Moonstone answered after she touched down his shoulder, speaking directly into the man's ear, “we were just assaulted for no reason on our own premises. You acted in self-defense, Goliath, and if they even tried to take you into custody, Hammer's lawyers would bury them. He saved us from the Avengers, remember? Same scenario here...we've done nothing wrong.”
Josten paused for several long moments, causing Karla and Melissa to exchange nervous glances. If Goliath indeed decided to attack the police, Moonstone wasn't sure if the two of them would truly be enough to stop him before he caused a massive loss of lives. “Okay, I'll shrink,” he finally said, “but do me a favor. Don't call me Goliath anymore...I don't even known why I decided to use that stupid name again.”
Moonstone took off from her teammate's shoulder and returned to the air, allowing him to reduce his size. Within seconds, he had returned to his natural height, but his face still loomed long with distress. The police approached slowly, their guns drawn and held in shaky hands. Josten raised his hand and attempted a weak smile. “It's okay,” he said, “I'm Atlas. I'm a hero ...”
Moonstone and Songbird hovered high above the building, their eyes locked on Erik as he talked with the police. “I'm worried about him,” Melissa admitted, “he hasn't been right since that incident with Malus months ago.”
“Indeed,” Karla replied, “I've noticed it as well. He never did confide in us just how he survived the ionic poisoning that nearly killed him then. Perhaps I should work up a psychological profile on our dear Mr. Josten, find out what's making him tick these days.”
“Such concern for your friend,” a voice buzzed behind them, causing both women to turn, “it warms my many hearts to kill two with such compassion.”
Floating in mid-air, the living hive named Swarm released the grip on his purple cloak and allowed the bees that composed his body to again see sunlight. Moonstone wasted no time in releasing a burst of energy at the villain, striking him dead in the center of his chest. Swarm exploded when the blast hit, scattering the majority of his horde into the air for his attack. Sofen immediately went intangible as the bees rushed around her, but she was still unable to keep from swatting at her body on instinct.
“You're kidding, right?” Songbird asked as she activated her sonic carapace, transforming her words into solid sound. Just as the pink wings at her back kept her aloft, the solidified sound waves coalesced into a dozen bubbles, collecting as much of Swarm that she could gather in one strike. Separated as he was, the German could shout no protests at his easy imprisonment.
“Take him below,” Moonstone ordered her ally, “secure him with the police, alongside the Abomination.”
Melissa complied and turned to fly to the ground, the bubbled collective Swarm trailing behind her. Moonstone watched as Songbird landed beside Atlas, and she couldn't fight the smile that had crept onto her lips. Bees, she thought, he tried to kill us with bees?
Dr. Sofen's thoughts were interrupted by a large explosion from the roof of their building, caused by the escaping TESS-1 robot. Moonstone immediately flew to the massive machine's side, and was surprised to find the injured Overrider cradled carefully in its arms. Placing her fingers to Rennsalaer's neck, feeling for a pulse, she noticed the immense amount of welts and wounds on his face and body. She looked up at the robot, and displayed on its face was something she knew she must have imagined: emotion, an illusionary show of concern for its master. “He's still alive,” she said to TESS-1, but she honestly didn't know why she'd felt the need to say it.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Mr. Hammer?” Donnie Gill asked cautiously as he pushed open the double doors to his employer's office. As much as he hated the thought of finding Justin Hammer dead in his office from a mad supervillain, he detested the thought of being bossed around by Moonstone even more. So, of them all, Blizzard had volunteered to check in on their boss...and how effectual would he have been against something like the Abomination had he said he wanted to fight?
The first thing he noticed was the smell; the rancid stench of sewer and rotted meat assaulted his nostrils even beneath his full facemask. His hand moved to his mouth out of reflex as he fought the insistent need to vomit up the last four meals he'd consumed, and to his happiness he managed to keep the bile from moving up his throat. A major disadvantage to having a full facemask, puking was pretty much out of the question.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled as he moved further into the low-lit office. Lying sprawled out on the floor was a creature he'd never seen before, one covered in fur and blood. Its snout was wet with blood, mingling with the pool of red that the monster had seemingly been wallowing in for some time. Most strikingly, however, was the sword sticking up out of the beast's chest, plunged deep enough for the point to ever-so-slightly jut out its back.
Blizzard immediately began to back up after seeing the dead creature, his backward steps taking him to another part of the room. He almost yelled in fright when he felt his back bump against something, but he kept his composure and slowly craned his neck. The large man was like a statue, covered in what appeared to be black tar. “Quantum?” he asked in confusion.
When the desk lamp clicked to life, Blizzard couldn't help but jump in surprise. Sitting behind the desk was Justin Hammer, who appeared none the worse for wear. Oddly so, Donnie noted; the man's hair hadn't been mussed, no sweat appeared on his brow. He looked as if he'd just stepped out of a spa, not a room where one – possibly two – people had met their deaths.
“Quantum will be fine,” Hammer said, “provided we have someone here capable of breaking a seal of Darkforce.”
“Sir,” Gill started hesitantly, “what's up with the dead rat guy?”
“His name is – excuse me, was – Vermin,” Hammer said with a slight smile, relaxing back into his leather chair as he spoke, “and he doubted my swordsmanship.”
“Uh, okay, well,” Donnie stammered quickly, “we're kinda under attack. I think the others have pretty much got everything under control now, but we're afraid there might be a few more monster fuckers roaming around. We can't get in touch with some of our men, and, well, Moonstone was worried that maybe they'd got to you, too.”
“Yes, Dr. Sofen would be worried about me, wouldn't she?” Hammer replied with a laugh. “The police are outside, Mr. Gill. You will escort me there to meet them.”
“The cops are here?” Blizzard asked. “How do you know?”
“Because I called them,” Hammer answered, “to report a charge of trespassing.”
# # # # # # # # # #
He could feel the heat from the gun's muzzle as he stared down the barrel of what should've been the man's arm. Bushwacker had Boomerang dead to rights, lying on the floor with no way to toss anything without getting his face blown off first. “Beg for me,” Bushwacker said, “and I'll offer you absolution before you die.”
“What are you, a bloody priest?” Fred asked, his sarcasm hiding the fact that he couldn't stop staring down the barrel of the gun/arm.
“Once upon a time,” Bushwacker answered softly, “go in peace, my child.”
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind the assassin. Upon hearing it, Meyers was finally able to break his stare, a smile having crept onto his lips. Bushwacker turned with incredible speed, his cybernetic gun swinging around to blast whoever was foolish enough to approach him. The skin-covered rifle stopped in mid-swing, caught in a superhumanly strong grip.
“But...I killed you...” Bushwacker whispered.
Samuel Smithers stood before him, still alive despite the many gunshots he'd endured only moments before. Green liquid poured from his numerous wounds, but more disturbing were the physical changes that his body had undergone. Roots were growing from points on his body, covering him like armor. His face was covered with what appeared to be tree bark, plates of petrified deadwood for protection. The Plant-Man had become more plant than man .
“You are worse than meat,” Taproot said in a tone harsh with hatred, “more machine than man. Let us be rid of your mockery of nature.”
And with strength greater than he should have possessed, Smithers tore the bionic arm from Bushwacker's body, ripping electronics and bone away from the socket that had housed it. Bushwacker screamed in pain and fell to his knees, blood and machine oil covering the metal floor as he flailed around wildly. The severed metal arm still in his grasp, Taproot held the newly acquired weapon high into the air...and proceeded to bludgeon his enemy to death with it.
“Oh...fuck me,” Boomerang said as he scrambled backward, trying to avoid the spurts of blood that were flying from Bushwacker's body as Smithers pounded on him with the bionic arm. Finally, nearly five minutes later, Samuel stopped and tossed the arm to the ground. Bushwacker didn't move, didn't breathe...he was dead.
“Sam, mate,” Fred said appreciatively, “that was fucking brutal. The bastard deserved it for killing Shrikey.”
“Don't pretend to care about him,” Taproot responded, “no more than you cared about me. Both of them are dead, and the Green refuses to weep over expired meat.”
“Whatever, you fucking lunatic,” Meyers muttered as he looked past his teammate. “Uh, hey...where's the vampire?”
Taproot turned to look back over his shoulder, to the spot where he and Morbius had been shot. “Michael Morbius was gone when I awakened. I presume he escaped.”
Bracing his back against the nearest wall, Fred pulled back his mask and stuck a cigarette between his lips. “Fuck it, pal. Two outta three ain't bad, I say.” He then slid down the wall and sat hard on the floor, exhaling smoke as heavily as he could. “I want a god damned vacation.”
# # # # # # # # # #
A short time later, the gates to Hammer Industries were flooded with police and reporters, all wanting answers to what had transpired on the premises. Heavily armed transports had arrived, in which the living members of the attacking villains had been loaded. Several Guardsmen remained posted at the open doors to one of the transports, ready to take the “escapees” back to the Vault. Typhoid Mary, Swarm, the Abomination, and the Lizard (whose regenerative powers were already healing the wounds caused to him) were being taken into custody; Bushwacker and Vermin were being taken to the morgue.
“Fuck off, gramps,” Typhoid said through the steel mesh of her cell in the transport vehicle, her lips puckered to blow a kiss at Justin Hammer, who stood between the two guardsmen. “Even if I knew just why me and these other teddy bears attacked you, I wouldn't tell your geriatric ass. Last thing I remember is being asleep in my cell, next thing I know I'm being thawed out of a giant ice cube.”
“Hypnosis,” Hammer explained. “You know nothing. They used you as a pawn, you stupid whore.”
“Yeah, you can eat me, too,” Typhoid said as she sat back.
“Guardsmen,” Hammer began as he turned to one of the armored guards, “there are at least two more of these miscreants that are unaccounted for: a cyborg named Sun and a vampire called Morbius.”
“They'll turn up eventually,” the Guardsman stated while he closed the thick steel doors of the transport, “but I have to tell you, those two aren't Vault escapees. They weren't in the prison, according to our records, though all the others were.”
Moonstone watched from the edge of the crowd as Zemo argued with the Guardsman, her head shaking as she thought of the man's audacity. Hiding in plain sight, she thought, I thought Helmut's patience would have ended months ago. She turned her attention toward her teammates, most of them crowded around the ambulance that held the deceased Simon Maddicks. Only Gladiator and Taproot remained separate from the group, but that neither surprised nor disappointed her. Those two were her knights, the ones she had plans for.
Dr. Karla Sofen...
Moonstone stiffened as she heard the words in her mind, the telepathic broadcast interrupting her thoughts.
My name is Doctor Sun, the mental voice continued; do not waste your time looking for me. I am close, but no one can see me unless I will them to do so. I have a message for you.
Karla's eyes darted nervously around the crowd.
Agent Crass has become very dissatisfied with your performance. The point of having a mole in an organization is to acquire information about one's enemies. You, however, have ceased being useful. Therefore, I have been told to inform you that you are officially marked, my dear woman. I had been instructed to kill you personally after delivery of this message...
Finally, she saw him, standing only twenty feet away. His golden metal body was wrapped in a brown trenchcoat, and the glass-encased brain sitting atop his head could be seen pulsing in the flashing red and blue lights of the surrounding police cars.
But now I know what your Baron Zemo is planning, and the fate he has prepared for you is far worse than anything I could do. So I bid you farewell...and good luck.
The cybernetic body, controlled by Doctor Sun's incredibly powerful brain, raised a hand to the glass case and saluted a gesture of goodbye. And then he was gone, his telepathy again masking him from her eyes.
# # # # # # # # # #
The carpet in Hammer's private office was still soaked through with blood, even after the removal of Vermin's body hours prior. The smell still lingered also, and both Fred Meyers and Donnie Gill squirmed in their seats in front of their employer's desk. “Would it be too much to spray a can of air freshener in here?” Blizzard asked, prompting a stern look from Hammer, who sat comfortably behind his desk.
“This attack on our facilities cannot go unanswered,” Justin said to the two men, “and thanks to what I was told by Sun, we know that it was this country's government that gave the order for the assault. One of our number is dead, gentlemen, and it remains to be seen whether or not Overrider will recover any time soon. We must retaliate against the individual that has caused this.”
“So, what, you want us to whack the President or something?” Fred asked.
“Our foes were given information by one of our number, who I believe is currently being held captive. This...loose end...must be rectified immediately. I have contacted Blacklash, and he will be meeting the two of in Los Angeles in two days time. I trust only the three of you to carry out the orders I am about to hand down.”
“Who do you want dead, Mr. Hammer?” Donnie questioned.
“Mr. White betrayed us,” Zemo answered, “and the price of such an act is death...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: What will happen to Mr. White when Blacklash, Boomerang, and Blizzard come looking to kill him? Uh, well, you're going to have to wait a little bit to find out, because next issue will be bringing you something a little different. For months, Baron Zemo has been moving his pawns around the chessboard, but what is he really planning? Find out through the thoughts of the Baron himself as Thunderbolts # 27 brings you a special stand-alone story that could only be titled "Man Made God".
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
Not much to talk about in this lettercol (since, y'know, I need actual letters to do that, lol), so I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about two actual comic books that proved to be great sources of inspiration for my work on this title.
The first is SLEEPER by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips, which is about a guy named Holden Carver, who is a high-ranking member of a supervillain organization. Unfortunately, Carver is a double agent that's been left out in the cold when the only man who knows he's really a good guy falls into a coma. It's a great work (one that's completely collected in four volumes now), that really shows what it might be like to live on the other side of the fence. And the ending fucking rocks.
The second book is WANTED by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones. Wesley Gibson finds out that his father was The Killer, the greatest assassin in the world, and that his dad has been assassinated. Gibson is then drafted into the cabal of supervillains that rule the world, to take over his father's mantle as The Killer. Extremely violent, wickedly funny, and just plain cool, WANTED was one of the best books I've read this year. Don't look for anything too deep until you get to the last two pages, which I thought were brilliant.
Chris Munn
09/30/05
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Mr. White was kidnapped by Warren Crass in Thunderbolts # 24 .
- Atlas' ionic poisoning occured in Thunderbolts # 13. He was cured by Mr. White in Thunderbolts # 18.
- Gladiator has been seeing visions of his dead wife since Thunderbolts # 22.
- An informant within the Thunderbolts was first mentioned in Thunderbolts # 16.
The Abomination struggled with all his might as the fingers of Erik Josten crushed down around his body. Nearly a thousand pounds of gamma-powered destruction, and he was being killed by a guy with a massive thyroid problem...things were not going well. Goliath had shot his height past the 75-feet mark; his heartbeats were like thunder, and Blonsky could feel them through the giant's hands. They were outside the building now, and the police and news helicopters were already swarming below them. Any chance of eliminating the Thunderbolts secretly was gone, but the Abomination really didn't care. He just didn't want to die.
“You attacked our women?” Josten yelled, his voice causing sonic booms throughout the area. “You're a monster and you attacked someone who couldn't fight you off?”
The Abomination attempted to reply with a gruff “fuck you”, but it only came out as a muffled whimper. His rock-hard skin was cracking and shattering across his body, and he knew his time was almost up...so he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his mouth and bit down on the widest area of skin on Goliath's fingers that he could fit between his teeth.
Erik screamed and released his grip, a wave of his arm creating a gust of wind that knocked the fluttering helicopters through the air. The Abomination took the advantage, jumping from the man's hands and attaching himself to his opponent's shirt. He grinned a row of razored teeth as he climbed up the chest of the giant. “I was content to let one of the others have you,” he growled, not caring if Josten could hear him or not, “but now you're mine!”
“Oh, fuck this,” Goliath replied while pulling the Abomination free from his shirt, “and fuck you.” With the gamma monster clutched in his hand, he raised his arm high into the air and thrust it down toward the ground. Emil Blonsky crashed into the ground, flattened between the concrete parking lot of Hammer Industries and the open palm of the towering giant above him. Unbelievably, he was still conscious when Josten removed his hand.
“That...all you...got?” the Abomination taunted as he rolled around in the crater, moving onto his back. He saw the sole of Goliath's boot descending upon him a moment before it hit.
“I can still feel you moving,” Goliath stated as he ground his heel atop his enemy, deepening the hole he'd made in the earth, “what does it take to kill you?” After several long minutes of stomping and grinding, Erik finally stopped and removed his foot. The Abomination was alive, albeit barely, but had passed into unconsciousness.
“Mr. Josten!” a voice said from the ground, projected through a bullhorn. “Reduce your size and surrender or we will be forced to open fire!”
Goliath raised a curious eyebrow at the ants below him, insects that were daring to threaten him with their puny guns. He hesitated for a long time...
...and contemplated how easy it would be to just smash them all.
# # # # # # # # # #
He'd long lost feeling in most parts of his body and he'd gone blind in one eye. Richard Rennsalaer, the Overrider, was in serious trouble. The bees were covering every inch of his exposed skin, the horde of insects under the control of the creature standing several feet away. The monster's name was Swarm, and the bees weren't just being directed by him...they were him.
"If you are the most dangerous of your group," Swarm said, his German accent coming through the shrill buzz of his voice, "then your teammates are most likely already dead."
Even had Overrider wanted to respond, his throat was already too swollen from stings for him to choke out words. He'd stopped his frantic flailing and was laying, nearly lifeless, on the floor of the Thunderbolts' communications room. His mutant power to control electronics was useless against a strictly biological threat, but still his mind reached out. His thoughts called out to the one thing that could possibly save his life.
"Vas ist...?" Swarm said as the floor began to shake. Suddenly, the ground exploded upward as the robot juggernaut known as TESS-1 tore his way into the room from below, guided by the desperate thoughts of its master. Taken by surprise, Swarm's body dispersed into a mist of insects, but they were ineffectual against the machine as it scooped up Rennsalaer's still body into its arms.
TESS-1 looked at the ravaged body of the Overrider, and it almost seemed as if the robot's blank face was expressing emotion at the sight of what had happened. After the momentary pause, TESS-1 activated its bootjets and flew through the ceiling, blasting its way up the remaining floors of the building, determined to reach a safe distance from its enemy.
Slowly, the bees that remained in the room came back together beneath the discarded purple cloak on the floor. Swarm returned to his humanoid shape and took a look at the hole blasted in the ceiling of the room. "Very well," he said to himself as he turned away to leave, "I shall simply have to find another to slay."
# # # # # # # # # #
The door slid open with the hiss of hydraulics, exposing the pitch dark room to the assassin that was entering from the hallway. Every light on that floor and the ones directly above and below had gone out as the killer made his way through the building. His name was Blackout, a mutant whose body extinguished all light in his immediate vicinity, and he could smell his chosen target a mile away.
"Come on in," the voice of Melvin Potter said from the far side of the room. He was unable to see Blackout in the darkness, but he knew he was there nonetheless.
"Gladiator," Blackout hissed as he moved forward with confidence, "I suppose you know why I am here?"
"To kill me, right?" Potter said from his sitting position at the end of his bed. Seen through Blackout's supernatural eyes, the Gladiator was nearly naked. Bandages covered his arms, the result of a lost battle during the war in Genosha, and he made no attempt to fight his would-be murderer.
"I am a vampire," Blackout said as he walked along the far wall of the room, stopping when he was directly in front of his victim, "and I am quite hungry at the moment. Yes, you will die...eventually."
Melvin laughed softly and buried his face in his hands.
"You...laugh at me?" Blackout asked, stunned at the actions of a man he decided must be mad.
"I wish you could kill me," Potter answered, lifting his head to look at the albino vampire in front of him, "but you can't. She won't let me die."
"She...?" Blackout began, but stopped when he heard a noise behind him. He turned quickly, ready to eviscerate anyone foolish enough to attempt to take him by surprise. His eyes widened when he saw the dead woman standing only inches away, an evil smile on her maggot-ridden face.
Blackout's screams echoed throughout the empty floor of the building, but no one heard the last sound he would ever make.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Flee as far and fast as you like, my friend...the Living Vampire shall slake his thirst on you before my end comes nigh!”
Simon Maddicks, the mercenary more commonly known as the Killer Shrike, sighed as he flew across the high high-ceilinged training facility inside the Thunderbolts' headquarters. He'd only heard of his pursuer in hushed whispers during his career; Michael Morbius, the scientist who transformed himself into a “scientific vampire”, had made only sporadic appearances around the country, mainly coming out of hiding to bother Spider-Man. Just why he had taken it upon himself to break into Hammer Industries and attack the first person he found was a mystery to the Shrike, but the sickly pale monster's intentions were clear as day.
“How about you back off for a bit?” Maddicks asked with a smirk as he propelled through the air, aided by the glider wings affixed to his arms. “I'd hate to get any bits of you on my outfit when I blast you into pulp.”
Morbius hissed as he dodged the blast of coherent light produced by the Shrike's bladed gauntlets. “Your blood calls to me, and long ago did Morbius vow only to drink the blood of the guilty . All here shall fall before my fangs!”
Simon shook his head and rolled into a freefall, increasing the distance between he and his foe. He had no need for worry; the vampire was obviously far slower than he when it came to a fight. The Shrike was more concerned about his teammate below, who was obviously having a little more trouble with his opponent. Fred Meyers, Boomerang, was flying erratically close to the ground, blood trailing on the floor below him from the cuts on his ankle. Another old Spider-Man foe, one that Maddicks recognized easily without an introduction, was leaping frantically, trying its best to get Meyers within range of its claws once again.
“Morbius and the Lizard, huh?” Killer Shrike said as he intercepted the reptilian form of Curt Conners with a blast of energy from his wristbands. “Somebody decide to sic the Monster Squad on us or something?”
“I have no bloody idea,” Boomerang answered as he paused in his flight long enough to toss one of his patented electrorangs a the descending Morbius, lightning the Living Vampire with enough volts of electricity to send him shrieking to the far end of the room, “but I do know that I'm bleeding like a mother fucker over here. Think we need any help, mate?”
Maddicks laughed loudly as he touched his feet to the ground, his gauntlets needing a brief moment to re-energize. “C'mon, man... Spider-Man took these clowns. Two professionals like us, think we're gonna have any problems?”
Meyers smiled at his comrade's statement before tossing a duo of razorrangs at the recovering Morbius, slicing the vampire across the shoulder and thigh. As long as they kept their distance from the two, Boomerang decided no, they wouldn't have any problems at all. The two monsters were close-range fighters, after all, and both he and the Shrike had the advantage. He turned back toward Maddicks, ready to apply a few smart-ass comments of his own, but the words died in his throat. “Shrike, mate, behind you!” he yelled, his eyes wide with realization and his hand already reaching for another boomerang to throw.
The Killer Shrike turned on his heels just in time to see the Lizard leaping at him, saliva running freely from its salivating jaws. Normally, the Lizard had a mind of its own, intelligent and devious, but something had changed it into a mindless beast consumed with bloodlust. Maddicks knew he was done even as he threw his fist forward, his gauntlets only recharged to half-power. The beast wasn't going to stop and he was going to die.
As the Lizard reached him, it suddenly stopped and hovered in mid-air before being pulled backward against its will. The vines of ivy constricted tightly around Curt Conners' body, choking breath and snapping bones as the animated plants wrapped around the beast, cutting off its snarls and shrieks of protest. When the Lizard stopped moving, the vines released, tossing the animal to the ground.
“Oh my god,” Maddicks said while exhaling nervously, “I thought I was a fucking dead man.”
Samuel Smithers, Taproot, frowned as the vines he had produced from the small potted plant carried in his arms returned to their natural state. “The creature was an abortion in the eyes of nature,” he said as he stroked the leaves of his favorite plant, “what I did was done for the Green, not for you.”
“I'm sure he's appreciative anyway, Smithers ol' chum,” Meyers said as he landed between the two men from above, “any idea what's going on?”
“We are under an assault of some sort,” the being formerly known as the Plant-Man replied, “but it appears to be a poorly planned one.”
“We should find Hammer,” Maddicks asked.
“Why's that, Shrikey?” Boomerang asked as he followed Simon to the door, leaving Taproot behind them.
“Because he's the one that signs my fucking paycheck,” Killer Shrike answered with a grin as he opened the door. He stopped short when he saw the man standing outside, his arm twisted and deformed into what appeared to be a large gun. The man with the scarred, burned face raised his arm, and bullets exploded from the fleshy barrel like a minigun. Simon Maddicks' chest exploded in blood and shattered bone, the meat and red covering Boomerang from the force of the bullets' exit out the Shrike's back.
“Holy shit!” Meyers yelled as he dove for the floor, barely avoiding the barrage of death that flared from their newest attacker's arm/gun. “Smithers, some fucking help here!”
“He is no danger to me,” Taproot said as he took a step forward, “cover your eyes, Fred.” Before he could advance further, however, Morbius fell from the sky and landed across Smithers' back, his eyes maniacally wild with madness. The vampire sunk his fangs into the Plant-Man's neck, ripping through the thick leather coat that was Samuel's only protection. Taproot didn't scream, his eyes simply grew large with confusion while Morbius drank deep of the fluid in his jugular vein. After a moment, Morbius tore his teeth free from his prey's throat, spitting and coughing from the green liquid that was pouring from the wound he'd created.
“What cruel joke is this,” the vampire scientist bellowed while still attached to Taproot's back, “that I slake my thirst on one who has no true blood in his veins?”
“Shut up, you creepy fuck,” the man with the gun for an arm said as he again raised his hand and sprayed the room with bullets. Over one hundred rounds tore through Smithers' body, and subsequently Morbius' as well, forcing both men to fall to the floor. After he stopped firing, he watched to make sure neither of his victims moved in their puddle of green and red blood.
Boomerang was still on the floor, in shock at what he'd just seen. The man that had just murdered his teammates turned toward him and leveled his skin-covered assault weapon at his face. “My name's Bushwacker,” he said, “you ready for me to go for a hat-trick?”
# # # # # # # # # #
Moonstone furrowed her brow as she flew high above the building that was being used as the Thunderbolts' base of operations. The damage to the north side of the facility was extensive, caused by the urgent exit that Goliath had made during his battle with the Abomination. Josten was still towering at close to 100 feet, his head craned down to look at the assembled mass of police and reporters that had gathered at the gates of the facility. Things were most certainly not going well.
“Erik, what are you doing?” Songbird asked her giant friend as she and Moonstone circled around his head, a look of worry and concern displayed on her beautiful face. “Shrink down, please, before you do something you'll regret.”
“Why should I, Mel?” Josten asked, his voice still booming across the area due to his size. “They're just going to try and arrest us again, put us in jail again. Why shouldn't I just kill them all?”
“Well, for one thing,” Moonstone answered after she touched down his shoulder, speaking directly into the man's ear, “we were just assaulted for no reason on our own premises. You acted in self-defense, Goliath, and if they even tried to take you into custody, Hammer's lawyers would bury them. He saved us from the Avengers, remember? Same scenario here...we've done nothing wrong.”
Josten paused for several long moments, causing Karla and Melissa to exchange nervous glances. If Goliath indeed decided to attack the police, Moonstone wasn't sure if the two of them would truly be enough to stop him before he caused a massive loss of lives. “Okay, I'll shrink,” he finally said, “but do me a favor. Don't call me Goliath anymore...I don't even known why I decided to use that stupid name again.”
Moonstone took off from her teammate's shoulder and returned to the air, allowing him to reduce his size. Within seconds, he had returned to his natural height, but his face still loomed long with distress. The police approached slowly, their guns drawn and held in shaky hands. Josten raised his hand and attempted a weak smile. “It's okay,” he said, “I'm Atlas. I'm a hero ...”
Moonstone and Songbird hovered high above the building, their eyes locked on Erik as he talked with the police. “I'm worried about him,” Melissa admitted, “he hasn't been right since that incident with Malus months ago.”
“Indeed,” Karla replied, “I've noticed it as well. He never did confide in us just how he survived the ionic poisoning that nearly killed him then. Perhaps I should work up a psychological profile on our dear Mr. Josten, find out what's making him tick these days.”
“Such concern for your friend,” a voice buzzed behind them, causing both women to turn, “it warms my many hearts to kill two with such compassion.”
Floating in mid-air, the living hive named Swarm released the grip on his purple cloak and allowed the bees that composed his body to again see sunlight. Moonstone wasted no time in releasing a burst of energy at the villain, striking him dead in the center of his chest. Swarm exploded when the blast hit, scattering the majority of his horde into the air for his attack. Sofen immediately went intangible as the bees rushed around her, but she was still unable to keep from swatting at her body on instinct.
“You're kidding, right?” Songbird asked as she activated her sonic carapace, transforming her words into solid sound. Just as the pink wings at her back kept her aloft, the solidified sound waves coalesced into a dozen bubbles, collecting as much of Swarm that she could gather in one strike. Separated as he was, the German could shout no protests at his easy imprisonment.
“Take him below,” Moonstone ordered her ally, “secure him with the police, alongside the Abomination.”
Melissa complied and turned to fly to the ground, the bubbled collective Swarm trailing behind her. Moonstone watched as Songbird landed beside Atlas, and she couldn't fight the smile that had crept onto her lips. Bees, she thought, he tried to kill us with bees?
Dr. Sofen's thoughts were interrupted by a large explosion from the roof of their building, caused by the escaping TESS-1 robot. Moonstone immediately flew to the massive machine's side, and was surprised to find the injured Overrider cradled carefully in its arms. Placing her fingers to Rennsalaer's neck, feeling for a pulse, she noticed the immense amount of welts and wounds on his face and body. She looked up at the robot, and displayed on its face was something she knew she must have imagined: emotion, an illusionary show of concern for its master. “He's still alive,” she said to TESS-1, but she honestly didn't know why she'd felt the need to say it.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Mr. Hammer?” Donnie Gill asked cautiously as he pushed open the double doors to his employer's office. As much as he hated the thought of finding Justin Hammer dead in his office from a mad supervillain, he detested the thought of being bossed around by Moonstone even more. So, of them all, Blizzard had volunteered to check in on their boss...and how effectual would he have been against something like the Abomination had he said he wanted to fight?
The first thing he noticed was the smell; the rancid stench of sewer and rotted meat assaulted his nostrils even beneath his full facemask. His hand moved to his mouth out of reflex as he fought the insistent need to vomit up the last four meals he'd consumed, and to his happiness he managed to keep the bile from moving up his throat. A major disadvantage to having a full facemask, puking was pretty much out of the question.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled as he moved further into the low-lit office. Lying sprawled out on the floor was a creature he'd never seen before, one covered in fur and blood. Its snout was wet with blood, mingling with the pool of red that the monster had seemingly been wallowing in for some time. Most strikingly, however, was the sword sticking up out of the beast's chest, plunged deep enough for the point to ever-so-slightly jut out its back.
Blizzard immediately began to back up after seeing the dead creature, his backward steps taking him to another part of the room. He almost yelled in fright when he felt his back bump against something, but he kept his composure and slowly craned his neck. The large man was like a statue, covered in what appeared to be black tar. “Quantum?” he asked in confusion.
When the desk lamp clicked to life, Blizzard couldn't help but jump in surprise. Sitting behind the desk was Justin Hammer, who appeared none the worse for wear. Oddly so, Donnie noted; the man's hair hadn't been mussed, no sweat appeared on his brow. He looked as if he'd just stepped out of a spa, not a room where one – possibly two – people had met their deaths.
“Quantum will be fine,” Hammer said, “provided we have someone here capable of breaking a seal of Darkforce.”
“Sir,” Gill started hesitantly, “what's up with the dead rat guy?”
“His name is – excuse me, was – Vermin,” Hammer said with a slight smile, relaxing back into his leather chair as he spoke, “and he doubted my swordsmanship.”
“Uh, okay, well,” Donnie stammered quickly, “we're kinda under attack. I think the others have pretty much got everything under control now, but we're afraid there might be a few more monster fuckers roaming around. We can't get in touch with some of our men, and, well, Moonstone was worried that maybe they'd got to you, too.”
“Yes, Dr. Sofen would be worried about me, wouldn't she?” Hammer replied with a laugh. “The police are outside, Mr. Gill. You will escort me there to meet them.”
“The cops are here?” Blizzard asked. “How do you know?”
“Because I called them,” Hammer answered, “to report a charge of trespassing.”
# # # # # # # # # #
He could feel the heat from the gun's muzzle as he stared down the barrel of what should've been the man's arm. Bushwacker had Boomerang dead to rights, lying on the floor with no way to toss anything without getting his face blown off first. “Beg for me,” Bushwacker said, “and I'll offer you absolution before you die.”
“What are you, a bloody priest?” Fred asked, his sarcasm hiding the fact that he couldn't stop staring down the barrel of the gun/arm.
“Once upon a time,” Bushwacker answered softly, “go in peace, my child.”
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind the assassin. Upon hearing it, Meyers was finally able to break his stare, a smile having crept onto his lips. Bushwacker turned with incredible speed, his cybernetic gun swinging around to blast whoever was foolish enough to approach him. The skin-covered rifle stopped in mid-swing, caught in a superhumanly strong grip.
“But...I killed you...” Bushwacker whispered.
Samuel Smithers stood before him, still alive despite the many gunshots he'd endured only moments before. Green liquid poured from his numerous wounds, but more disturbing were the physical changes that his body had undergone. Roots were growing from points on his body, covering him like armor. His face was covered with what appeared to be tree bark, plates of petrified deadwood for protection. The Plant-Man had become more plant than man .
“You are worse than meat,” Taproot said in a tone harsh with hatred, “more machine than man. Let us be rid of your mockery of nature.”
And with strength greater than he should have possessed, Smithers tore the bionic arm from Bushwacker's body, ripping electronics and bone away from the socket that had housed it. Bushwacker screamed in pain and fell to his knees, blood and machine oil covering the metal floor as he flailed around wildly. The severed metal arm still in his grasp, Taproot held the newly acquired weapon high into the air...and proceeded to bludgeon his enemy to death with it.
“Oh...fuck me,” Boomerang said as he scrambled backward, trying to avoid the spurts of blood that were flying from Bushwacker's body as Smithers pounded on him with the bionic arm. Finally, nearly five minutes later, Samuel stopped and tossed the arm to the ground. Bushwacker didn't move, didn't breathe...he was dead.
“Sam, mate,” Fred said appreciatively, “that was fucking brutal. The bastard deserved it for killing Shrikey.”
“Don't pretend to care about him,” Taproot responded, “no more than you cared about me. Both of them are dead, and the Green refuses to weep over expired meat.”
“Whatever, you fucking lunatic,” Meyers muttered as he looked past his teammate. “Uh, hey...where's the vampire?”
Taproot turned to look back over his shoulder, to the spot where he and Morbius had been shot. “Michael Morbius was gone when I awakened. I presume he escaped.”
Bracing his back against the nearest wall, Fred pulled back his mask and stuck a cigarette between his lips. “Fuck it, pal. Two outta three ain't bad, I say.” He then slid down the wall and sat hard on the floor, exhaling smoke as heavily as he could. “I want a god damned vacation.”
# # # # # # # # # #
A short time later, the gates to Hammer Industries were flooded with police and reporters, all wanting answers to what had transpired on the premises. Heavily armed transports had arrived, in which the living members of the attacking villains had been loaded. Several Guardsmen remained posted at the open doors to one of the transports, ready to take the “escapees” back to the Vault. Typhoid Mary, Swarm, the Abomination, and the Lizard (whose regenerative powers were already healing the wounds caused to him) were being taken into custody; Bushwacker and Vermin were being taken to the morgue.
“Fuck off, gramps,” Typhoid said through the steel mesh of her cell in the transport vehicle, her lips puckered to blow a kiss at Justin Hammer, who stood between the two guardsmen. “Even if I knew just why me and these other teddy bears attacked you, I wouldn't tell your geriatric ass. Last thing I remember is being asleep in my cell, next thing I know I'm being thawed out of a giant ice cube.”
“Hypnosis,” Hammer explained. “You know nothing. They used you as a pawn, you stupid whore.”
“Yeah, you can eat me, too,” Typhoid said as she sat back.
“Guardsmen,” Hammer began as he turned to one of the armored guards, “there are at least two more of these miscreants that are unaccounted for: a cyborg named Sun and a vampire called Morbius.”
“They'll turn up eventually,” the Guardsman stated while he closed the thick steel doors of the transport, “but I have to tell you, those two aren't Vault escapees. They weren't in the prison, according to our records, though all the others were.”
Moonstone watched from the edge of the crowd as Zemo argued with the Guardsman, her head shaking as she thought of the man's audacity. Hiding in plain sight, she thought, I thought Helmut's patience would have ended months ago. She turned her attention toward her teammates, most of them crowded around the ambulance that held the deceased Simon Maddicks. Only Gladiator and Taproot remained separate from the group, but that neither surprised nor disappointed her. Those two were her knights, the ones she had plans for.
Dr. Karla Sofen...
Moonstone stiffened as she heard the words in her mind, the telepathic broadcast interrupting her thoughts.
My name is Doctor Sun, the mental voice continued; do not waste your time looking for me. I am close, but no one can see me unless I will them to do so. I have a message for you.
Karla's eyes darted nervously around the crowd.
Agent Crass has become very dissatisfied with your performance. The point of having a mole in an organization is to acquire information about one's enemies. You, however, have ceased being useful. Therefore, I have been told to inform you that you are officially marked, my dear woman. I had been instructed to kill you personally after delivery of this message...
Finally, she saw him, standing only twenty feet away. His golden metal body was wrapped in a brown trenchcoat, and the glass-encased brain sitting atop his head could be seen pulsing in the flashing red and blue lights of the surrounding police cars.
But now I know what your Baron Zemo is planning, and the fate he has prepared for you is far worse than anything I could do. So I bid you farewell...and good luck.
The cybernetic body, controlled by Doctor Sun's incredibly powerful brain, raised a hand to the glass case and saluted a gesture of goodbye. And then he was gone, his telepathy again masking him from her eyes.
# # # # # # # # # #
The carpet in Hammer's private office was still soaked through with blood, even after the removal of Vermin's body hours prior. The smell still lingered also, and both Fred Meyers and Donnie Gill squirmed in their seats in front of their employer's desk. “Would it be too much to spray a can of air freshener in here?” Blizzard asked, prompting a stern look from Hammer, who sat comfortably behind his desk.
“This attack on our facilities cannot go unanswered,” Justin said to the two men, “and thanks to what I was told by Sun, we know that it was this country's government that gave the order for the assault. One of our number is dead, gentlemen, and it remains to be seen whether or not Overrider will recover any time soon. We must retaliate against the individual that has caused this.”
“So, what, you want us to whack the President or something?” Fred asked.
“Our foes were given information by one of our number, who I believe is currently being held captive. This...loose end...must be rectified immediately. I have contacted Blacklash, and he will be meeting the two of in Los Angeles in two days time. I trust only the three of you to carry out the orders I am about to hand down.”
“Who do you want dead, Mr. Hammer?” Donnie questioned.
“Mr. White betrayed us,” Zemo answered, “and the price of such an act is death...”
# # # # # # # # # #
Next Issue: What will happen to Mr. White when Blacklash, Boomerang, and Blizzard come looking to kill him? Uh, well, you're going to have to wait a little bit to find out, because next issue will be bringing you something a little different. For months, Baron Zemo has been moving his pawns around the chessboard, but what is he really planning? Find out through the thoughts of the Baron himself as Thunderbolts # 27 brings you a special stand-alone story that could only be titled "Man Made God".
# # # # # # # # # #
LIGHTNING STRIKES
Not much to talk about in this lettercol (since, y'know, I need actual letters to do that, lol), so I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about two actual comic books that proved to be great sources of inspiration for my work on this title.
The first is SLEEPER by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips, which is about a guy named Holden Carver, who is a high-ranking member of a supervillain organization. Unfortunately, Carver is a double agent that's been left out in the cold when the only man who knows he's really a good guy falls into a coma. It's a great work (one that's completely collected in four volumes now), that really shows what it might be like to live on the other side of the fence. And the ending fucking rocks.
The second book is WANTED by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones. Wesley Gibson finds out that his father was The Killer, the greatest assassin in the world, and that his dad has been assassinated. Gibson is then drafted into the cabal of supervillains that rule the world, to take over his father's mantle as The Killer. Extremely violent, wickedly funny, and just plain cool, WANTED was one of the best books I've read this year. Don't look for anything too deep until you get to the last two pages, which I thought were brilliant.
Chris Munn
09/30/05
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Mr. White was kidnapped by Warren Crass in Thunderbolts # 24 .
- Atlas' ionic poisoning occured in Thunderbolts # 13. He was cured by Mr. White in Thunderbolts # 18.
- Gladiator has been seeing visions of his dead wife since Thunderbolts # 22.
- An informant within the Thunderbolts was first mentioned in Thunderbolts # 16.