Back to GatefoldIssue #1 by John Cheese
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“GENESIS OF EVIL – Part One: Crosshairs”
The Jeep Wrangler skidded to a halt across the cracked tarmac, the radio blaring and headlights piercing through the darkness as the sun set over the glowing haze of Tijuana in the distance. As the driver and passengers got out they looked around using the tactical lights mounted on their pistols to light up the gloom, heading toward the Lear Jet squatting in the centre of the field surrounded by the rusting hulks of outdated aircraft.
The three men and one woman made it to their jet before arguing in Spanish. They split into two groups: the leather clad Hispanic woman and bald colossus of a man squeezed fell into step, heading to the car as the two almost identical greasy haired men stayed by the plane continuing to scan the darkness for threats.
“Get the case out first, idiota,” the woman snapped at the big man as he pulled out a large box from the Jeep’s boot. “That’s what is important; all this other stuff is collateral.”
“I don’t see why we’re running,” the bald man stated as he reached in and grabbed an aluminium case. “Just because Rohas hires one guy.”
“You are an idiot,” the woman hissed. “Anyone else would have taken days to find the leak. He takes hours, tops. Mark my word he is dangerous.”
The larger man huffed as he picked up the box he had removed first. “If he was so dangerous why isn’t he here right now?” he asked as he placed the box at the twin’s feet.
“He’s right,” one of the twins added. “We have had three perimeter breaches in the last hour: two mangy coyotes and the largest rattler I’ve ever seen.”
“So you’re saying he ain’t here,” the other stated. “That we outrun him.”
“Tiene mierda para cerebros,” the woman cursed. “He is here. Now load that and burn the rest. We need to leave before the window closes.”
“Crazy chica,” the bald man stated. “Nobody can touch us.”
The sound of the conversation radiated out several hundred meters to the wreck of a Mi-17, its chassis so heavily oxidized that it flaked off to the touch. Crouching under the crew compartment Crossfire smiled.
He knew that attitude too well, had felt it so many times before, but as the old proverb so rightly stated pride defiantly came before a fall. Scanning the air-field Crossfire picked up four thermal signatures before crossing the image with the audio image, creating a multi dimensional image of the group. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing with your own eyes, he mused, but it was good enough to locate a target.
Silently, he finished the simulation of the hit he was about to perform, estimating distances, time to secondary fire positions, wind speed, and a hundred other variables. He considered the hunt the fun part of an assignment, matching wits with an opponent, moving them into position, but when it came to the kill it was simply business, no matter who or what the target was.
“How the hell would that Cross guy recognize us?” one of the twins asked. “Langley’s files are so secure it would take a genius to hack in.”
Crossfire smiled again. Rohas had hired him three days ago, it had taken him a day to get to the Mexican’s compound, five hours to ID all five undercover CIA agents, another three to get the remainder jumping after he made sure that their friend would never move again and only twenty minutes to convince his employer to set the trap for the idiots now congregating around the plane.
Aside from the woman they were too cocky. The fact that he’d turned their associate from loyal CIA agent to a suicidal hit woman with only a few choice words didn’t seem to register with them. Unfolding his weapon of choice for this mission, a Pneu-Dart 176B Rifle, he lined up the first shot, not bothering to use the attached sight and instead relying on his optical implants to lock onto the bald man’s neck. Squeezing the trigger he fired, watching as the dart embedded in the agent’s neck, the blow sending a shiver down his body before he stood motionless like a statue.
“Viene en usted jodiendo a imbécil que tenemos que conseguir mover” the female agent snapped at the bald guy, who just stood there, now literally a prisoner in his own flesh.
Peering behind the man, the woman noticed the dart and backed off, removing the safety from her pistol. “He’s here!” she yelled, alerting the twins as they closed the cargo compartment.
Immediately the agents started scanning the perimeter as they backed behind the jet’s landing gear. Crossfire watched and selected a new position that would give him a clear line of sight before reloading the dart gun and sprinting across the tarmac to a F5 Tiger, its wing tips snapped off and cockpit dented with holes.
Lining up a second shot he fired, the dart embedding into one of the twin’s foreheads, sending him collapsing, his finger shuddering on the trigger as he fell, a few shots clipping one of the Lear Jet’s engine. The last bullet breached the tank and caused a steady dribble of fuel to splat onto the runway.
The woman and the remaining twin looked over to the ladder up to the Lear Jet and ran darting round the landing gear, Jeep Wrangler, and their paralyzed comrade before reaching the steps. The twin reached the steps first and Crossfire pulled the trigger again, the dart clipping him in the arm, sending him slipping down the steps as his comrade sprung over his falling body before reaching the top of the steps.
Crossfire reloaded again and fired the final shot, the dart ricocheting off the top of the steps into her rump, freezing her in her tracks. Crossfire smiled and scanned the area.
Four targets neutralized. One would most likely be dead in three minutes but the others would still be useful. Removing a tablet he typed a set of commands before sending them to the darts embedded in the CIA agents. Shuddering like marionettes grasped by a puppet master, the agents threw down their weapons and lined up by the Lear Jet as the woman picked up the case and held it out ready for collection. Crossfire scanned the area before deciding nobody else was in the area before walking over, his hand hovering over the silenced Glock on his hip holster.
“Well, let’s see what you tried to steal,” Crossfire said to the CIA agent as he took the case.
Opening the latch and flipping the lid open, Crossfire ran his hand over the stacked 200 peso bills before removing stacks of them out of the case and onto the ground, finding a grey sliver of metal. Removing the device, Crossfire lifted the top and removed a tiny disc and slipped it under the casing before putting it back in the case and placing the money back on top.
“That should be useful,” he announced before stopping and turning around his optical implant, cutting through the darkness.
He caught something dashing behind the skeletal remains of a transport jet from the 1950s. “Now who are you?” he asked as his optical implant cycled through it’s settings before finally locking onto the intruder.
Whoever it was, they were giving off a powerful magical signature, but very little else. Crossfire had seen similar energy readings before from his old buddy Moon Knight before he decided to play the hero. While this entity shared a lot of the same characteristics there were enough differences that made him sure that it wasn’t Marc Spector.
“Go,” he commanded his CIA slaves as he handed back the case. “Get me my payment.”
The female agent nodded before leading the others back to the Jeep, as Crossfire removed the Glock and locked onto the intruder. The uninvited guest leapt from the top of the transport to where the Lear Jet stood landing silent on the wing-tip, slashing at where Crossfire’s neck had been seconds before.
Twisting out of the blade’s reach Crossfire unloaded the Glock into the target, bullets bouncing off the figures armor as his attacker flipped off the wing and down onto the tarmac, streaking like a shadow across the runway as his mercenary prey backpedalled, firing accurate shots at his attacker. With a leap, the figure slashed through Crossfire, the blade scything through his chest. He collapsed into a shower of photons and white noise. The attacker cocked his head, the ornately jewelled mask covering his face hiding the feeling of irritation and anger he felt before turning and scanning the area, searching for the real Crossfire.
Crossfire watched as the armoured figure sliced through the holographic decoy he had sent to distract him. He recognized his foe now, a Meso-American stalker know as Toltec who seemed to be a cross between Moon Knight and the Punisher. As Toltec locked onto him, Crossfire smiled. He had planned for the vigilante’s possible arrival and had a plan ready just in case. As Toltec sprung to his position Crossfire removed a packet of gel from his belt and threw it at the vigilante, showering him in sticky fluid.
With a smirk he flicked the trigger, igniting the gel as Toltec ran toward him. The crazed Aztec vigilante seemed oblivious that he was on fire and heading toward a pool of leaking jet fuel.
Crossfire glanced and decided it was time to exit as quickly as possible, as Toltec ran through the puddle of spilt kerosene before igniting the whole runway. Crossfire turned and watched the fire burn as the leaking engine exploded, ripping the wing off of the Lear Jet, the blast officially making it a resident of the airplane graveyard. Squinting, Crossfire saw Toltec duck and roll putting out the flames before skulking into the darkness.
“Got to remember that if we cross paths again,” Crossfire mused. “You’re fast, strong and durable, but not overly smart.”
He turned away from the burning jet and walked through the bushes to a hidden Mercedes, the skin covered in a polymer blend that made it indistinguishable from the surrounding scrub to the naked eye. Crossfire slipped round the back and scanned the vehicle for explosives and electronic bugs. As the scanners got to work, Crossfire leaned against the vehicle and pulled out a tablet linked to his Swiss Bank Account and watched as an extra hundred thousand Euros, his preferred currency for such jobs, entered his account.
No doubt he would be getting a phone call soon to triangulate his location so a Mexican hit-squad could find and kill him, as such Crossfire decided to ditch his phone, placing it under the Mercedes front tyre. “You have to wake up earlier then that to catch me, Rohas.” Crossfire said to himself as the scanner beeped to reveal the scan had been completed. “Hmm,” he growled as he read that the scans had picked up foreign technology. “Well, now that is interesting.”
# # # # #
Two days later Crossfire walked into the grounds of Old Sarum Castle just outside Salisbury, his face covered with prosthetics and a red wig covering his hair. The property was virtually deserted, the heavy rain scaring off the majority of the tourists with only a few hardcore individuals out and about, although Crossfire guessed that they were probably hired muscle since they all seemed to be scanning the grounds nervously.
It hadn’t taken him long to completely scan the micro-USB key that had been left under the driver’s seat, and even less time to access his potential employer’s details and do a through background check. From there it was as simple as storing the Mercedes in one of the properties he owned and getting a ticket from Mexico City to London Heathrow, renting a nice car and driving west to the historic city where the meeting had been arranged.
Completing a sweep of the site, Crossfire let the modified iPhone scan through the footage of the assorted tourists before cross-referencing the data with the employee list of his contact. Singling out one of the visitors, a woman of Persian descent wearing sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt, as the highest ranking individual he walked past before dropping a twenty-five cent coin with an X scrawled in red across one face. He headed for the ruins of the castle’s former latrine. The woman arrived two minutes later with a pair of bodyguards who had been trying unsuccessfully to pose as tourists.
“Mr. Cross I assume?” the woman asked, her accent adding an exotic flare to her words. “I was assured that you could handle the matter of my employer’s proposal discreetly.”
“Acoustic Blockers that I posted around the site keep external ears from eavesdropping,” Crossfire replied. “I’m a little disappointed that Ms. Bain didn’t come herself.”
“My employer wishes that you don’t use her name in public,” the woman replied.
“Let me guess: you need an industrial terrorist and you happened to find my name on a long list of potential contacts,” Crossfire proposed. “As a former business man I know how these things work.”
(Crossfire owned a company known as Cross Technologies in Avengers Vol 1 222-223. He lost it some time later)
“Something like that, Mr Cross,” the woman replied. “You are aware of the group known as the Radically Advanced Ideas in Destruction. We have it on good authority that you were even hired by them some years back.”
(Crossfire was hired by RAID to support their attack on London in Union Jack: London Falling Volume 1-4)
“I know about RAID; what of it?” Crossfire asked.
“My employer has corporate spies everywhere including in RAID. Before we lost contact with him he told us that they have invented a Quantum Destabilizer Canon. In theory it should—”
“—be able to open a singularity wherever the wielder wants. I read the same article in the New Scientist. Somebody wants the weapon but can’t be bothered to wade in and take it so they hired Bain to obtain it. And Bain doesn’t want to get her hands dirty so she hires somebody else to do her work. I know all about her arms dealing ring and I got the warning Taskmaster posted, about how she sells out mercs who work for her. Tell her that when you get back...meanwhile I’ve got other clients to attend to.”
He got up, making a deliberate display that he wasn’t interested in the offer. The truth was very different. Bain was rich and well connected, both things that he needed for his own plans.
(Taskmaster was screwed over by Bain in her Madame Menace guise in Taskmaster Vol 1.4)
“Wait, Mr. Cross,” the woman said as the two bodyguards flexed their muscles, “Ms. Bain is willing to pay 1.5 million pounds for your services.”
Crossfire stopped making numerous calculations in his head before turning and staring at the woman. It was clear from her facial expression that her employer wouldn’t take kindly to the hired help saying no to her proposals. To be honest he had never intended to say no, but with an employer like Sunset Bain it was best to spring any traps she had left out before taking the cheese. He felt the woman grab him on the arm in a futile attempt to restrain him.
“For that much money I’m willing to do anything,” he told the woman. The pressure on his arm released as he said the words. “So where am I going?”
# # # # #
An hour and a half later Cross parked the rented BMW up in a lay-by deep within the New Forest before flicking open a PDA and scanning for his target. It only took a few seconds to locate her in the London Offices of Baintronics.
Crossfire smiled, he had figured that the aide who had met with him would rather speak face to face with Bain so he had engineered a solution where he could follow her without being seen. As such he had sprayed the prosthetic hands he had worn to the Old Sarum business meeting with a tracking isotope and a nano transmitter and transceiver. Not only could he find Bain but now he could eavesdrop on her as well.
Setting the transmitter to record all conversations, Crossfire shouldered the massive rucksack full of his equipment and got out of the car. RAID had hidden a compound in the Forest at a point called Stinking Edge Wood, a good two kilometre walk from where he was standing. As the rain was still thundering down, Crossfire had risked not using a prosthetic for the infiltration but had decided to keep the bag so that his equipment stayed dry.
After forty minutes Crossfire reached the edge of the path. From what Bain’s infiltrator had relayed back to his boss, RAID had taken the liberty to construct an Army Hiding Canopy that not only masked the facility from the naked eyes but from most electronic surveillance devices as well. Crossfire had to admit that it was well constructed since his optical implants didn’t register anything out of the ordinary, even when he cycled through every wavelength his implants gave him access to.
Warily, he stuck a finger through the canopy. The shield sent an odd buzzing feeling up his digit as it emerged out the other side. Satisfied at his findings Crossfire retracted his finger and scanned the area around him before locking onto one of the forest’s rare cicadas and scooping it up into his hand.
With a swift jab he stuck a micro needle into the insect’s back and implanted a tiny cybernetic chip into the bug’s neural system before withdrawing the needle. Opening his palm Crossfire placed the insect on his left arm before removing a tablet from his bag.
Calling up the only application on the tablet’s desktop he saw the implant was working within the optimal range and that his new ‘cyber spy bug’ was ready to go. Tapping the screen with his finger the cicada lifted off and headed through the shield, steered and directed by it’s master using the tablet.
Some time later the cicada re-emerged and landed on a nearby tree. Despite his initial estimates the facility was a lot smaller then he had guessed and external physical security was a little lack-lustre, with only two dozen agents on patrol as well as two radar guided AA Guns situated outside of the main building.
RAID’s electronic surveillance was more comprehensive with Smart Mines, Camera Spikes and sentry turrets disguised as tree stumps scattered all over the site, not that any of them provided any serious threat. Crossfire’s uniform featured several electronic safeties that prevented being noticed by electronic eyes; an advantage in nearly every situation he found himself.
It’s recon mission now over, Crossfire held out his hand and the cicada landed on it ready for new directions. Crossfire looked down before clenching his fist, crushing the insect inside and wiping the remains on the forest floor.
Unpacking his dart rifle and a host of other equipment, Crossfire stood up, grabbing the bag as he went, and headed through the canopy. Walking softly he tossed the bag into the brush before tapping one of the concealed camera spikes, climbing up a massive oak tree as the spike popped up out of the undergrowth.
Now all he had to do was wait for a response. If RAID played by the usual rules, their paranoid surveillance operators would quickly run through a list of variables before sending out a patrol in a naive attempt to secure the area. Sure enough the sound of boots smashing through the undergrowth arrived forty seconds later before a group of six operatives arrived in the clearing.
“Commander 00221,” the commander announced. “False alarm. We have no sign of any human incursion.”
Crossfire noted that all six of the RAID flunkies were wearing British Army fatigues and were armed with the standard L85 Infantry Rifle; a good tactic. Any wayward hiker would submit to the authority of the military and not ask too many questions.
“Yes, sir, we will spread out and search the perimeter,” the commander answered before gesturing for his men to spread out into pairs and head in different directions.
Crossfire smiled, removing a pair of pistols, the magazines loaded with neural shutdown darts that would change the RAID squadron from radical extremists to his willing slaves. As the RAID agents reached the edges of the clearing, Crossfire took his first shots, with both darts embedding in the back of his targets necks. Seconds later the pair on the other side of the glade had also been tagged, standing motionless and waiting for instructions. By this time the last two agents had noticed that something was happening but were still unaware what that something was as they split up to deal with their stalled comrades Crossfire fired the last shots with the darts hitting their marks.
“Sub Commander 00782, report,” a voice crackled from the Commander’s radio.
Crossfire winced as he dropped from the tree. He could easily jam RAID’s communications, but to be honest it would probably be more trouble than it was worth. Quickly he typed a response and sent it to Sub Commander 00782, the agent mechanically picking up the radio before replying, “Area secured, sir, and tracks show that a deer stepped on the camera.”
“Return to your stations,” the agent on the other end of the radio announced.
“Yes,” Crossfire hissed as he typed, “Head back to your positions.”
The RAID team turned and marched out of the glade, cocking their weapons and clicking the safeties off. Following them Crossfire crouched in the underbrush as his minions erupted from the undergrowth opening fire on their former comrades.
Seconds later the remaining guards returned fire with each side ducking behind cover. Neither of the two groups noticed the red suited figure dash across the seventy meters of open ground around the facility, climb one of the access ladders and slip inside. Not that it would matter; RAID had other things on their mind.
Now inside Crossfire slipped along the corridors, elsewhere he could hear more RAID troops running for the doors to support their comrades. The fighting was still tense but it wouldn’t last much longer.
Arriving at one of the auxiliary control rooms, Crossfire snuck inside. There were six technicians inside, all huddled over computer consoles, all clad in RAID body armor, not that it mattered. His distraction had worked and six silent shots from his Glock later Crossfire was the only living soul inside.
Quickly, Crossfire typed in a command code that pulled up a storage list of the weaponry held in the facility. He was in luck, the Quantum Destabilizer Canon was going through testing and was in one of two field simulation chambers rather than the storage vault. With two quick clicks of the interactive screen Crossfire downloaded a route to the simulation chamber as well as a way out and had opened all the doors on the way as well.
“This is almost too easy,” he mused, stepping out of the control room.
As he had suspected, the blast doors at the end of the corridor were open. What he hadn’t counted on was the RAID agent carrying a massive plasma Gattling gun waiting on the other side.
Cursing, he ducked back into the room as streaks of energy whizzed past, contrails of energy lighting up the corridor. “Okay, maybe I spoke too soon,” Cross told himself. “Still, if you can’t kill in a single shot then you may as well go home.”
Pulling a ball from his pocket, a left over piece of equipment from a former colleague, Crossfire threw it down the hall. There was a dull thud and a scream before something exploded, prompting Crossfire to poke his head around the corner. The ball had severed the Gattling gun’s plasma conduit, causing the agent to drop the weapon. Yhe explosion had come from the weapon’s power pack as ionized plasma reacted violently with the atmosphere.
“So much for silenced weapons,” Crossfire stated, unscrewing his Glock’s silencer. “Got to speed this up before they figure out why I’m here.”
# # # # #
The head of RAID, the Scientist Supreme stormed into the dormitories. Something was going on. First, a border skirmish with a group of his own men and now an explosion in one of the upper floor control corridors. His agents would hold as long as he could but his specialized security would be needed, especially if the equipment brought to him was evidence on who was targeting the facility.
Throwing open the door he saw a blonde man with three days facial hair growth lying face up on the cot, sound asleep. Removing a Taser stave from his belt the Scientist Supreme tapped the sleeper, the electrical discharge from the end running down the man’s body, causing his frame to mildly convulse before the weapon was removed. With a sudden jerk the sleeper sprung to life, grabbing the Taser stave and snapping it in two before grabbing the Scientist Supreme and restraining him in a choke hold.
“What do you want, you bloody ponce?” the man sneered in a heavy British accent. “You know it’s rude to wake a bloke while he sleeps.”
“We have an intruder,” the Scientist Supreme spluttered as he struggled to escape the Sleeper’s grasp. His captor obliged, dropping him to the floor and pulling a shirt over his torso before rummaging for some trousers in the mess of clothing at the bottom of his bed. “Some of our agents were tagged with these.”
He handed the man a set of darts, their ends branded with cross shaped marks. “We paid you to keep this facility safe, Sneed, now do what we brought you here to do.”
Sneed didn’t reply. He was transfixed with the darts. He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “So, Billy, we meet again. Last time I heard that old Union Jack smacked you down with a single punch,” he growled.
Turning his back on the Scientist Supreme he walked over to the wardrobe before opening the doors to reveal a suit of yellow and amber armor, complete with a domed helmet. “Let’s see how long it takes somebody ten times better then him to make you indistinguishable from charcoal.”
(Crossfire got smacked around by Union Jack in Daniel Ingram’s Excalibur #13. Then again Shockwave didn’t fare much better in the same story so I don’t know what he’s bragging about.)
# # # # #
Crossfire reached the field simulation chamber, skirting around armed damage crews that RAID had sent to the site of the explosion. The chamber itself was large, big enough to park a medium sized jet and still have room for the majority of the equipment required to run it.
The whole area was open, save for the holographic projectors mounted on the walls and the gantries running across the ceiling, effectively creating a multi tiered environment. Perched on one of the walkways Crossfire looked down. RAID technicians and guards were hurriedly moving equipment out of the room, too pre-occupied with safe-guarding their secrets to be attentive. Dropping down to the ground Crossfire opened fire with his Glock, the surprise ariel attack catching the majority of his targets off guard. The few that survived rapidly retreated out of the chamber, leaving their work behind.
“Too easy,” Crossfire mumbled as he scanned the room quickly, locating the Quantum Destabilizer Cannon mounted on a weapon rack.
Further scans revealed no safe-guards were activated other then an alarm when removed, a moot point since RAID already knew who they were dealing with and where he was. Cautiously walking over Crossfire heard motors spring to life and watched as the sirens on the corner of the rack begun to flash. Picking up the pace, Crossfire watched as the rack descended before leaping to intercept his prize, fingers scrapping the weapon’s surface as it dropped under the floor and was covered up by a steel disk leaving him sprawled across the floor.
“Lost something?” a voice asked behind him.
Crossfire hand-sprung to a standing position and turned to see a familiar armoured figure standing at the other end of the chamber.
“Shockwave,” Crossfire growled. “Can’t you see I have better things to do, you stuck-up British shit.”
“You have nothing better in any field,” Shockwave replied as he stomped forward, “RAID’s locked the doors down so you have nowhere left to run. I figure you won’t be surrendering which leaves me to conclude…”
Crossfire opened fire before Shockwave could even finished the sentence, the remaining rounds in his Glock melting before they even reached the armour’s outer layer, electrical energy arched across and around Shockwave.
Undeterred Crossfire reloaded and opened fire again as Shockwave charged the bullets ricocheting off his suit before he slammed a fist into his opponent, the force and electrical discharge sending Crossfire flying across the room.
“Get up, punk,” Shockwave roared as Crossfire staggered to his feet using one of the holo-projectors to stabilize himself.
He removed a single shot pistol from an arm holster. He never got a shot off though as Shockwave grabbed him and slammed him into the ground, electricity dancing down Crossfire’s spine, before releasing him and kicking him to the other end of the chamber.
“Put up a fight, you little bitch,” Shockwave sneered as he walked towards Crossfire. “You’re not even fucking trying.”
Suddenly Crossfire fired, the bullet embedding in Shockwave’s armoured shoulder joint, his armor stalling for a few precious seconds as Crossfire removed a set of needle edged explosive projectiles, throwing them one after another at his enemy.
Shockwave winced as the first projectile struck his chest before deflecting the other’s, as his armor accessed the damage and rebooted the stalled arm. With a roar he fired a concussive wave of electricity across the room, slamming Crossfire against the wall before sauntering over for the final blow.
Struggling, Crossfire focused on the other end of the chamber before catching sight of the override device he had placed on the opposite projector, praying that he had been able to hack into the systems fast enough before pressing the trigger.
Shockwave suddenly disappeared as light levels dropped and the bare chamber was replaced by thick coniferous woodland; the trees, rocks and shrubs simulated by solid light holograms. Cycling through his optical implant options Crossfire selected an electro-sensitive mode that would allow him to see the energy signatures of any electrical items moving in his field of vision. Shockwave would most certainly run but now there was nowhere he could hide.
Shockwave slammed an electrified chop into where Crossfire’s neck had been just as the lights went out. His armor registered that his hand had contacted with metal and that his prey had escaped. Quickly he brought up a file on his target and saw that Crossfire saw in Infar Red, something that was useful when it was dark. Switching on the armour’s cheek mounted tactical lights Shockwave glanced around him, Crossfire was hiding but when he found him the glare from the lights would give him a tactical advantage for a few seconds. That would be all he needed to make the former CIA agent into another death-by-lightning statistic.
Crossfire navigated the forest floor quickly and quietly, his vision picking up the outlines of the holograms as well as a massive electrical smear heading in the other direction, most likely Shockwave trying a random search pattern in the hopes of getting lucky. Smiling he looked down at the floor, the main coolant channel for the room ran under where he kneeled. If he failed it would make a good escape route.
He squeezed an explosive gel onto the floor before adding a micro detonator cap to the mix. Looking around he saw Shockwave turning around, continuing his search. He was looking up as well as around him for his target, a clear sign of a good tactical mind. Removing another single shot pistol Crossfire fired, the bullet rocketing over the chamber straight into the left cheek mounted tactical light.
Shockwave spun around, the remaining tactical light blinding Crossfire, causing him to shake his head. In the two seconds that it had taken him to clear his vision Shockwave had cleared the room and was mid-way through executing a flying kick. Crossfire dodged a little too late and an electrified boot smacked him in the face, sending him flying into a holographic spruce tree sending holographic shards of wood splintering off the trunk.
Grunting in pain, Crossfire got to his feet and switched off the hologram as Shockwave sent another concussion blast at him. The force of the wave sent him skidding back across the floor. Crossfire knew he was outclassed in strength, speed, and firepower, not to mention numbers, but he had one thing going for him and that was his intelligence.
He had spotted a weakness in Sneed’s armor and he knew just how to exploit it. Removing two canisters of blasting clay Crossfire ran at Shockwave as his opponent braced himself for a counter attack. Crossfire leapt and slammed his clay covered fists into Shockwave’s face before being thrown back twenty feet. Angrily Shockwave sent a pulse of electricity across the surface of his armor in the hopes of melting the clay off of his visor. It was an idiotic tactic causing the explosives to detonate.
Crossfire smiled. He had the advantage as he sprinted over to where the rack of weapons had descended, quickly typing in an override code. With the Quantum Destabilizer Canon he could send Shockwave into whatever was on the other side of the vortex it summoned.
As his armor rebooted, Shockwave glared at Crossfire. He knew that Crossfire would be able to break the security protocol on the rack in only a few seconds. The clay had damaged his armor and the system was having to compromise, he could either shoot or run, at least until the repair system finished its job.
Clicking his gauntlets Shockwave opened the door and several RAID agents flooded in, opening fire at Crossfire as Shockwave walked forward. He had one plan: grab hold of his target and hold on while he diverted his armour’s power to the electro-shock generators and fried Crossfire until his remains could fit in an ashtray.
“It’s over, Cross,” Shockwave sneered as Crossfire returned fire, cutting down one of the RAID agents. “I’ve got to say you’re a wily old fucker but that won’t save you.”
Crossfire turned, locking his gaze on the explosives. He ran as Shockwave’s heavy boot steps reverberated behind him. Reaching the plate above the coolant channel detonating the explosives and dropping him into the chemical sludge glowing in the darkness as it flowed towards a turbine generator shaft, the liquid thundering as it fell.
Behind him Crossfire heard something heavy follow him in and saw Shockwave wading after him, but he was too late. Crossfire reached the edge of the shaft and dropped towards the turbine. Shockwave peered over the edge and saw Crossfire latch onto the side and crawl down into one of the maintenance shafts. The chase was effectively over. The shafts had several exits and were two narrow for fully armoured troops to police effectively. Crossfire had chosen his exit strategy well.
Half an hour after Crossfire had vanished he re-emerged from the transport maintenance shaft, dropping down into a hanger containing one of RAID’s experimental gunships, the sleek black vehicle parked menacingly as technician’s finished scans.
Dropping down Crossfire waited until they left and slunk onboard. The pilot would never come back from his test flight, he thought, and while I didn’t get the main prize the ship was a fair consolation gift. RAID would have enough problems in a few minutes, as the Gunship warmed up before taxing out of the hanger. Removing his iPhone, Cross typed in a number before re-routing the message to his audio enhancements.
“Good Afternoon,” a female voice answered. “William, is that you?”
“It’s me, Gillette. Round up the usual suspects. I need bodies to throw at a problem.”
“Time and place?” Gillette asked.
“Six hours from now in Georgetown. I have a riverfront property that will be open to them providing they arrive covertly and don’t draw any attention to themselves.”
The Gunship flew over the tops of the forest. Reaching into his uniform’s pocket he removed a detonator before flicking the switch. Down below on the forest floor his back-pack smoked before exploding into flames, the incendiary gel packs igniting the fabric and forest floor. He knew it was petty but the thought of RAID burning down in a forest fire was amusing and it sure as hell made him feel better about being forced into the compromising position of team work.
He grimaced as he got up and headed for the cockpit, clutching one of his trade mark neural shutdown darts as he advanced on the pilot. He may have lost the battle, he thought as he jabbed the dart into the pilot’s neck, but the war had only just begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...
The three men and one woman made it to their jet before arguing in Spanish. They split into two groups: the leather clad Hispanic woman and bald colossus of a man squeezed fell into step, heading to the car as the two almost identical greasy haired men stayed by the plane continuing to scan the darkness for threats.
“Get the case out first, idiota,” the woman snapped at the big man as he pulled out a large box from the Jeep’s boot. “That’s what is important; all this other stuff is collateral.”
“I don’t see why we’re running,” the bald man stated as he reached in and grabbed an aluminium case. “Just because Rohas hires one guy.”
“You are an idiot,” the woman hissed. “Anyone else would have taken days to find the leak. He takes hours, tops. Mark my word he is dangerous.”
The larger man huffed as he picked up the box he had removed first. “If he was so dangerous why isn’t he here right now?” he asked as he placed the box at the twin’s feet.
“He’s right,” one of the twins added. “We have had three perimeter breaches in the last hour: two mangy coyotes and the largest rattler I’ve ever seen.”
“So you’re saying he ain’t here,” the other stated. “That we outrun him.”
“Tiene mierda para cerebros,” the woman cursed. “He is here. Now load that and burn the rest. We need to leave before the window closes.”
“Crazy chica,” the bald man stated. “Nobody can touch us.”
The sound of the conversation radiated out several hundred meters to the wreck of a Mi-17, its chassis so heavily oxidized that it flaked off to the touch. Crouching under the crew compartment Crossfire smiled.
He knew that attitude too well, had felt it so many times before, but as the old proverb so rightly stated pride defiantly came before a fall. Scanning the air-field Crossfire picked up four thermal signatures before crossing the image with the audio image, creating a multi dimensional image of the group. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing with your own eyes, he mused, but it was good enough to locate a target.
Silently, he finished the simulation of the hit he was about to perform, estimating distances, time to secondary fire positions, wind speed, and a hundred other variables. He considered the hunt the fun part of an assignment, matching wits with an opponent, moving them into position, but when it came to the kill it was simply business, no matter who or what the target was.
“How the hell would that Cross guy recognize us?” one of the twins asked. “Langley’s files are so secure it would take a genius to hack in.”
Crossfire smiled again. Rohas had hired him three days ago, it had taken him a day to get to the Mexican’s compound, five hours to ID all five undercover CIA agents, another three to get the remainder jumping after he made sure that their friend would never move again and only twenty minutes to convince his employer to set the trap for the idiots now congregating around the plane.
Aside from the woman they were too cocky. The fact that he’d turned their associate from loyal CIA agent to a suicidal hit woman with only a few choice words didn’t seem to register with them. Unfolding his weapon of choice for this mission, a Pneu-Dart 176B Rifle, he lined up the first shot, not bothering to use the attached sight and instead relying on his optical implants to lock onto the bald man’s neck. Squeezing the trigger he fired, watching as the dart embedded in the agent’s neck, the blow sending a shiver down his body before he stood motionless like a statue.
“Viene en usted jodiendo a imbécil que tenemos que conseguir mover” the female agent snapped at the bald guy, who just stood there, now literally a prisoner in his own flesh.
Peering behind the man, the woman noticed the dart and backed off, removing the safety from her pistol. “He’s here!” she yelled, alerting the twins as they closed the cargo compartment.
Immediately the agents started scanning the perimeter as they backed behind the jet’s landing gear. Crossfire watched and selected a new position that would give him a clear line of sight before reloading the dart gun and sprinting across the tarmac to a F5 Tiger, its wing tips snapped off and cockpit dented with holes.
Lining up a second shot he fired, the dart embedding into one of the twin’s foreheads, sending him collapsing, his finger shuddering on the trigger as he fell, a few shots clipping one of the Lear Jet’s engine. The last bullet breached the tank and caused a steady dribble of fuel to splat onto the runway.
The woman and the remaining twin looked over to the ladder up to the Lear Jet and ran darting round the landing gear, Jeep Wrangler, and their paralyzed comrade before reaching the steps. The twin reached the steps first and Crossfire pulled the trigger again, the dart clipping him in the arm, sending him slipping down the steps as his comrade sprung over his falling body before reaching the top of the steps.
Crossfire reloaded again and fired the final shot, the dart ricocheting off the top of the steps into her rump, freezing her in her tracks. Crossfire smiled and scanned the area.
Four targets neutralized. One would most likely be dead in three minutes but the others would still be useful. Removing a tablet he typed a set of commands before sending them to the darts embedded in the CIA agents. Shuddering like marionettes grasped by a puppet master, the agents threw down their weapons and lined up by the Lear Jet as the woman picked up the case and held it out ready for collection. Crossfire scanned the area before deciding nobody else was in the area before walking over, his hand hovering over the silenced Glock on his hip holster.
“Well, let’s see what you tried to steal,” Crossfire said to the CIA agent as he took the case.
Opening the latch and flipping the lid open, Crossfire ran his hand over the stacked 200 peso bills before removing stacks of them out of the case and onto the ground, finding a grey sliver of metal. Removing the device, Crossfire lifted the top and removed a tiny disc and slipped it under the casing before putting it back in the case and placing the money back on top.
“That should be useful,” he announced before stopping and turning around his optical implant, cutting through the darkness.
He caught something dashing behind the skeletal remains of a transport jet from the 1950s. “Now who are you?” he asked as his optical implant cycled through it’s settings before finally locking onto the intruder.
Whoever it was, they were giving off a powerful magical signature, but very little else. Crossfire had seen similar energy readings before from his old buddy Moon Knight before he decided to play the hero. While this entity shared a lot of the same characteristics there were enough differences that made him sure that it wasn’t Marc Spector.
“Go,” he commanded his CIA slaves as he handed back the case. “Get me my payment.”
The female agent nodded before leading the others back to the Jeep, as Crossfire removed the Glock and locked onto the intruder. The uninvited guest leapt from the top of the transport to where the Lear Jet stood landing silent on the wing-tip, slashing at where Crossfire’s neck had been seconds before.
Twisting out of the blade’s reach Crossfire unloaded the Glock into the target, bullets bouncing off the figures armor as his attacker flipped off the wing and down onto the tarmac, streaking like a shadow across the runway as his mercenary prey backpedalled, firing accurate shots at his attacker. With a leap, the figure slashed through Crossfire, the blade scything through his chest. He collapsed into a shower of photons and white noise. The attacker cocked his head, the ornately jewelled mask covering his face hiding the feeling of irritation and anger he felt before turning and scanning the area, searching for the real Crossfire.
Crossfire watched as the armoured figure sliced through the holographic decoy he had sent to distract him. He recognized his foe now, a Meso-American stalker know as Toltec who seemed to be a cross between Moon Knight and the Punisher. As Toltec locked onto him, Crossfire smiled. He had planned for the vigilante’s possible arrival and had a plan ready just in case. As Toltec sprung to his position Crossfire removed a packet of gel from his belt and threw it at the vigilante, showering him in sticky fluid.
With a smirk he flicked the trigger, igniting the gel as Toltec ran toward him. The crazed Aztec vigilante seemed oblivious that he was on fire and heading toward a pool of leaking jet fuel.
Crossfire glanced and decided it was time to exit as quickly as possible, as Toltec ran through the puddle of spilt kerosene before igniting the whole runway. Crossfire turned and watched the fire burn as the leaking engine exploded, ripping the wing off of the Lear Jet, the blast officially making it a resident of the airplane graveyard. Squinting, Crossfire saw Toltec duck and roll putting out the flames before skulking into the darkness.
“Got to remember that if we cross paths again,” Crossfire mused. “You’re fast, strong and durable, but not overly smart.”
He turned away from the burning jet and walked through the bushes to a hidden Mercedes, the skin covered in a polymer blend that made it indistinguishable from the surrounding scrub to the naked eye. Crossfire slipped round the back and scanned the vehicle for explosives and electronic bugs. As the scanners got to work, Crossfire leaned against the vehicle and pulled out a tablet linked to his Swiss Bank Account and watched as an extra hundred thousand Euros, his preferred currency for such jobs, entered his account.
No doubt he would be getting a phone call soon to triangulate his location so a Mexican hit-squad could find and kill him, as such Crossfire decided to ditch his phone, placing it under the Mercedes front tyre. “You have to wake up earlier then that to catch me, Rohas.” Crossfire said to himself as the scanner beeped to reveal the scan had been completed. “Hmm,” he growled as he read that the scans had picked up foreign technology. “Well, now that is interesting.”
# # # # #
Two days later Crossfire walked into the grounds of Old Sarum Castle just outside Salisbury, his face covered with prosthetics and a red wig covering his hair. The property was virtually deserted, the heavy rain scaring off the majority of the tourists with only a few hardcore individuals out and about, although Crossfire guessed that they were probably hired muscle since they all seemed to be scanning the grounds nervously.
It hadn’t taken him long to completely scan the micro-USB key that had been left under the driver’s seat, and even less time to access his potential employer’s details and do a through background check. From there it was as simple as storing the Mercedes in one of the properties he owned and getting a ticket from Mexico City to London Heathrow, renting a nice car and driving west to the historic city where the meeting had been arranged.
Completing a sweep of the site, Crossfire let the modified iPhone scan through the footage of the assorted tourists before cross-referencing the data with the employee list of his contact. Singling out one of the visitors, a woman of Persian descent wearing sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt, as the highest ranking individual he walked past before dropping a twenty-five cent coin with an X scrawled in red across one face. He headed for the ruins of the castle’s former latrine. The woman arrived two minutes later with a pair of bodyguards who had been trying unsuccessfully to pose as tourists.
“Mr. Cross I assume?” the woman asked, her accent adding an exotic flare to her words. “I was assured that you could handle the matter of my employer’s proposal discreetly.”
“Acoustic Blockers that I posted around the site keep external ears from eavesdropping,” Crossfire replied. “I’m a little disappointed that Ms. Bain didn’t come herself.”
“My employer wishes that you don’t use her name in public,” the woman replied.
“Let me guess: you need an industrial terrorist and you happened to find my name on a long list of potential contacts,” Crossfire proposed. “As a former business man I know how these things work.”
(Crossfire owned a company known as Cross Technologies in Avengers Vol 1 222-223. He lost it some time later)
“Something like that, Mr Cross,” the woman replied. “You are aware of the group known as the Radically Advanced Ideas in Destruction. We have it on good authority that you were even hired by them some years back.”
(Crossfire was hired by RAID to support their attack on London in Union Jack: London Falling Volume 1-4)
“I know about RAID; what of it?” Crossfire asked.
“My employer has corporate spies everywhere including in RAID. Before we lost contact with him he told us that they have invented a Quantum Destabilizer Canon. In theory it should—”
“—be able to open a singularity wherever the wielder wants. I read the same article in the New Scientist. Somebody wants the weapon but can’t be bothered to wade in and take it so they hired Bain to obtain it. And Bain doesn’t want to get her hands dirty so she hires somebody else to do her work. I know all about her arms dealing ring and I got the warning Taskmaster posted, about how she sells out mercs who work for her. Tell her that when you get back...meanwhile I’ve got other clients to attend to.”
He got up, making a deliberate display that he wasn’t interested in the offer. The truth was very different. Bain was rich and well connected, both things that he needed for his own plans.
(Taskmaster was screwed over by Bain in her Madame Menace guise in Taskmaster Vol 1.4)
“Wait, Mr. Cross,” the woman said as the two bodyguards flexed their muscles, “Ms. Bain is willing to pay 1.5 million pounds for your services.”
Crossfire stopped making numerous calculations in his head before turning and staring at the woman. It was clear from her facial expression that her employer wouldn’t take kindly to the hired help saying no to her proposals. To be honest he had never intended to say no, but with an employer like Sunset Bain it was best to spring any traps she had left out before taking the cheese. He felt the woman grab him on the arm in a futile attempt to restrain him.
“For that much money I’m willing to do anything,” he told the woman. The pressure on his arm released as he said the words. “So where am I going?”
# # # # #
An hour and a half later Cross parked the rented BMW up in a lay-by deep within the New Forest before flicking open a PDA and scanning for his target. It only took a few seconds to locate her in the London Offices of Baintronics.
Crossfire smiled, he had figured that the aide who had met with him would rather speak face to face with Bain so he had engineered a solution where he could follow her without being seen. As such he had sprayed the prosthetic hands he had worn to the Old Sarum business meeting with a tracking isotope and a nano transmitter and transceiver. Not only could he find Bain but now he could eavesdrop on her as well.
Setting the transmitter to record all conversations, Crossfire shouldered the massive rucksack full of his equipment and got out of the car. RAID had hidden a compound in the Forest at a point called Stinking Edge Wood, a good two kilometre walk from where he was standing. As the rain was still thundering down, Crossfire had risked not using a prosthetic for the infiltration but had decided to keep the bag so that his equipment stayed dry.
After forty minutes Crossfire reached the edge of the path. From what Bain’s infiltrator had relayed back to his boss, RAID had taken the liberty to construct an Army Hiding Canopy that not only masked the facility from the naked eyes but from most electronic surveillance devices as well. Crossfire had to admit that it was well constructed since his optical implants didn’t register anything out of the ordinary, even when he cycled through every wavelength his implants gave him access to.
Warily, he stuck a finger through the canopy. The shield sent an odd buzzing feeling up his digit as it emerged out the other side. Satisfied at his findings Crossfire retracted his finger and scanned the area around him before locking onto one of the forest’s rare cicadas and scooping it up into his hand.
With a swift jab he stuck a micro needle into the insect’s back and implanted a tiny cybernetic chip into the bug’s neural system before withdrawing the needle. Opening his palm Crossfire placed the insect on his left arm before removing a tablet from his bag.
Calling up the only application on the tablet’s desktop he saw the implant was working within the optimal range and that his new ‘cyber spy bug’ was ready to go. Tapping the screen with his finger the cicada lifted off and headed through the shield, steered and directed by it’s master using the tablet.
Some time later the cicada re-emerged and landed on a nearby tree. Despite his initial estimates the facility was a lot smaller then he had guessed and external physical security was a little lack-lustre, with only two dozen agents on patrol as well as two radar guided AA Guns situated outside of the main building.
RAID’s electronic surveillance was more comprehensive with Smart Mines, Camera Spikes and sentry turrets disguised as tree stumps scattered all over the site, not that any of them provided any serious threat. Crossfire’s uniform featured several electronic safeties that prevented being noticed by electronic eyes; an advantage in nearly every situation he found himself.
It’s recon mission now over, Crossfire held out his hand and the cicada landed on it ready for new directions. Crossfire looked down before clenching his fist, crushing the insect inside and wiping the remains on the forest floor.
Unpacking his dart rifle and a host of other equipment, Crossfire stood up, grabbing the bag as he went, and headed through the canopy. Walking softly he tossed the bag into the brush before tapping one of the concealed camera spikes, climbing up a massive oak tree as the spike popped up out of the undergrowth.
Now all he had to do was wait for a response. If RAID played by the usual rules, their paranoid surveillance operators would quickly run through a list of variables before sending out a patrol in a naive attempt to secure the area. Sure enough the sound of boots smashing through the undergrowth arrived forty seconds later before a group of six operatives arrived in the clearing.
“Commander 00221,” the commander announced. “False alarm. We have no sign of any human incursion.”
Crossfire noted that all six of the RAID flunkies were wearing British Army fatigues and were armed with the standard L85 Infantry Rifle; a good tactic. Any wayward hiker would submit to the authority of the military and not ask too many questions.
“Yes, sir, we will spread out and search the perimeter,” the commander answered before gesturing for his men to spread out into pairs and head in different directions.
Crossfire smiled, removing a pair of pistols, the magazines loaded with neural shutdown darts that would change the RAID squadron from radical extremists to his willing slaves. As the RAID agents reached the edges of the clearing, Crossfire took his first shots, with both darts embedding in the back of his targets necks. Seconds later the pair on the other side of the glade had also been tagged, standing motionless and waiting for instructions. By this time the last two agents had noticed that something was happening but were still unaware what that something was as they split up to deal with their stalled comrades Crossfire fired the last shots with the darts hitting their marks.
“Sub Commander 00782, report,” a voice crackled from the Commander’s radio.
Crossfire winced as he dropped from the tree. He could easily jam RAID’s communications, but to be honest it would probably be more trouble than it was worth. Quickly he typed a response and sent it to Sub Commander 00782, the agent mechanically picking up the radio before replying, “Area secured, sir, and tracks show that a deer stepped on the camera.”
“Return to your stations,” the agent on the other end of the radio announced.
“Yes,” Crossfire hissed as he typed, “Head back to your positions.”
The RAID team turned and marched out of the glade, cocking their weapons and clicking the safeties off. Following them Crossfire crouched in the underbrush as his minions erupted from the undergrowth opening fire on their former comrades.
Seconds later the remaining guards returned fire with each side ducking behind cover. Neither of the two groups noticed the red suited figure dash across the seventy meters of open ground around the facility, climb one of the access ladders and slip inside. Not that it would matter; RAID had other things on their mind.
Now inside Crossfire slipped along the corridors, elsewhere he could hear more RAID troops running for the doors to support their comrades. The fighting was still tense but it wouldn’t last much longer.
Arriving at one of the auxiliary control rooms, Crossfire snuck inside. There were six technicians inside, all huddled over computer consoles, all clad in RAID body armor, not that it mattered. His distraction had worked and six silent shots from his Glock later Crossfire was the only living soul inside.
Quickly, Crossfire typed in a command code that pulled up a storage list of the weaponry held in the facility. He was in luck, the Quantum Destabilizer Canon was going through testing and was in one of two field simulation chambers rather than the storage vault. With two quick clicks of the interactive screen Crossfire downloaded a route to the simulation chamber as well as a way out and had opened all the doors on the way as well.
“This is almost too easy,” he mused, stepping out of the control room.
As he had suspected, the blast doors at the end of the corridor were open. What he hadn’t counted on was the RAID agent carrying a massive plasma Gattling gun waiting on the other side.
Cursing, he ducked back into the room as streaks of energy whizzed past, contrails of energy lighting up the corridor. “Okay, maybe I spoke too soon,” Cross told himself. “Still, if you can’t kill in a single shot then you may as well go home.”
Pulling a ball from his pocket, a left over piece of equipment from a former colleague, Crossfire threw it down the hall. There was a dull thud and a scream before something exploded, prompting Crossfire to poke his head around the corner. The ball had severed the Gattling gun’s plasma conduit, causing the agent to drop the weapon. Yhe explosion had come from the weapon’s power pack as ionized plasma reacted violently with the atmosphere.
“So much for silenced weapons,” Crossfire stated, unscrewing his Glock’s silencer. “Got to speed this up before they figure out why I’m here.”
# # # # #
The head of RAID, the Scientist Supreme stormed into the dormitories. Something was going on. First, a border skirmish with a group of his own men and now an explosion in one of the upper floor control corridors. His agents would hold as long as he could but his specialized security would be needed, especially if the equipment brought to him was evidence on who was targeting the facility.
Throwing open the door he saw a blonde man with three days facial hair growth lying face up on the cot, sound asleep. Removing a Taser stave from his belt the Scientist Supreme tapped the sleeper, the electrical discharge from the end running down the man’s body, causing his frame to mildly convulse before the weapon was removed. With a sudden jerk the sleeper sprung to life, grabbing the Taser stave and snapping it in two before grabbing the Scientist Supreme and restraining him in a choke hold.
“What do you want, you bloody ponce?” the man sneered in a heavy British accent. “You know it’s rude to wake a bloke while he sleeps.”
“We have an intruder,” the Scientist Supreme spluttered as he struggled to escape the Sleeper’s grasp. His captor obliged, dropping him to the floor and pulling a shirt over his torso before rummaging for some trousers in the mess of clothing at the bottom of his bed. “Some of our agents were tagged with these.”
He handed the man a set of darts, their ends branded with cross shaped marks. “We paid you to keep this facility safe, Sneed, now do what we brought you here to do.”
Sneed didn’t reply. He was transfixed with the darts. He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “So, Billy, we meet again. Last time I heard that old Union Jack smacked you down with a single punch,” he growled.
Turning his back on the Scientist Supreme he walked over to the wardrobe before opening the doors to reveal a suit of yellow and amber armor, complete with a domed helmet. “Let’s see how long it takes somebody ten times better then him to make you indistinguishable from charcoal.”
(Crossfire got smacked around by Union Jack in Daniel Ingram’s Excalibur #13. Then again Shockwave didn’t fare much better in the same story so I don’t know what he’s bragging about.)
# # # # #
Crossfire reached the field simulation chamber, skirting around armed damage crews that RAID had sent to the site of the explosion. The chamber itself was large, big enough to park a medium sized jet and still have room for the majority of the equipment required to run it.
The whole area was open, save for the holographic projectors mounted on the walls and the gantries running across the ceiling, effectively creating a multi tiered environment. Perched on one of the walkways Crossfire looked down. RAID technicians and guards were hurriedly moving equipment out of the room, too pre-occupied with safe-guarding their secrets to be attentive. Dropping down to the ground Crossfire opened fire with his Glock, the surprise ariel attack catching the majority of his targets off guard. The few that survived rapidly retreated out of the chamber, leaving their work behind.
“Too easy,” Crossfire mumbled as he scanned the room quickly, locating the Quantum Destabilizer Cannon mounted on a weapon rack.
Further scans revealed no safe-guards were activated other then an alarm when removed, a moot point since RAID already knew who they were dealing with and where he was. Cautiously walking over Crossfire heard motors spring to life and watched as the sirens on the corner of the rack begun to flash. Picking up the pace, Crossfire watched as the rack descended before leaping to intercept his prize, fingers scrapping the weapon’s surface as it dropped under the floor and was covered up by a steel disk leaving him sprawled across the floor.
“Lost something?” a voice asked behind him.
Crossfire hand-sprung to a standing position and turned to see a familiar armoured figure standing at the other end of the chamber.
“Shockwave,” Crossfire growled. “Can’t you see I have better things to do, you stuck-up British shit.”
“You have nothing better in any field,” Shockwave replied as he stomped forward, “RAID’s locked the doors down so you have nowhere left to run. I figure you won’t be surrendering which leaves me to conclude…”
Crossfire opened fire before Shockwave could even finished the sentence, the remaining rounds in his Glock melting before they even reached the armour’s outer layer, electrical energy arched across and around Shockwave.
Undeterred Crossfire reloaded and opened fire again as Shockwave charged the bullets ricocheting off his suit before he slammed a fist into his opponent, the force and electrical discharge sending Crossfire flying across the room.
“Get up, punk,” Shockwave roared as Crossfire staggered to his feet using one of the holo-projectors to stabilize himself.
He removed a single shot pistol from an arm holster. He never got a shot off though as Shockwave grabbed him and slammed him into the ground, electricity dancing down Crossfire’s spine, before releasing him and kicking him to the other end of the chamber.
“Put up a fight, you little bitch,” Shockwave sneered as he walked towards Crossfire. “You’re not even fucking trying.”
Suddenly Crossfire fired, the bullet embedding in Shockwave’s armoured shoulder joint, his armor stalling for a few precious seconds as Crossfire removed a set of needle edged explosive projectiles, throwing them one after another at his enemy.
Shockwave winced as the first projectile struck his chest before deflecting the other’s, as his armor accessed the damage and rebooted the stalled arm. With a roar he fired a concussive wave of electricity across the room, slamming Crossfire against the wall before sauntering over for the final blow.
Struggling, Crossfire focused on the other end of the chamber before catching sight of the override device he had placed on the opposite projector, praying that he had been able to hack into the systems fast enough before pressing the trigger.
Shockwave suddenly disappeared as light levels dropped and the bare chamber was replaced by thick coniferous woodland; the trees, rocks and shrubs simulated by solid light holograms. Cycling through his optical implant options Crossfire selected an electro-sensitive mode that would allow him to see the energy signatures of any electrical items moving in his field of vision. Shockwave would most certainly run but now there was nowhere he could hide.
Shockwave slammed an electrified chop into where Crossfire’s neck had been just as the lights went out. His armor registered that his hand had contacted with metal and that his prey had escaped. Quickly he brought up a file on his target and saw that Crossfire saw in Infar Red, something that was useful when it was dark. Switching on the armour’s cheek mounted tactical lights Shockwave glanced around him, Crossfire was hiding but when he found him the glare from the lights would give him a tactical advantage for a few seconds. That would be all he needed to make the former CIA agent into another death-by-lightning statistic.
Crossfire navigated the forest floor quickly and quietly, his vision picking up the outlines of the holograms as well as a massive electrical smear heading in the other direction, most likely Shockwave trying a random search pattern in the hopes of getting lucky. Smiling he looked down at the floor, the main coolant channel for the room ran under where he kneeled. If he failed it would make a good escape route.
He squeezed an explosive gel onto the floor before adding a micro detonator cap to the mix. Looking around he saw Shockwave turning around, continuing his search. He was looking up as well as around him for his target, a clear sign of a good tactical mind. Removing another single shot pistol Crossfire fired, the bullet rocketing over the chamber straight into the left cheek mounted tactical light.
Shockwave spun around, the remaining tactical light blinding Crossfire, causing him to shake his head. In the two seconds that it had taken him to clear his vision Shockwave had cleared the room and was mid-way through executing a flying kick. Crossfire dodged a little too late and an electrified boot smacked him in the face, sending him flying into a holographic spruce tree sending holographic shards of wood splintering off the trunk.
Grunting in pain, Crossfire got to his feet and switched off the hologram as Shockwave sent another concussion blast at him. The force of the wave sent him skidding back across the floor. Crossfire knew he was outclassed in strength, speed, and firepower, not to mention numbers, but he had one thing going for him and that was his intelligence.
He had spotted a weakness in Sneed’s armor and he knew just how to exploit it. Removing two canisters of blasting clay Crossfire ran at Shockwave as his opponent braced himself for a counter attack. Crossfire leapt and slammed his clay covered fists into Shockwave’s face before being thrown back twenty feet. Angrily Shockwave sent a pulse of electricity across the surface of his armor in the hopes of melting the clay off of his visor. It was an idiotic tactic causing the explosives to detonate.
Crossfire smiled. He had the advantage as he sprinted over to where the rack of weapons had descended, quickly typing in an override code. With the Quantum Destabilizer Canon he could send Shockwave into whatever was on the other side of the vortex it summoned.
As his armor rebooted, Shockwave glared at Crossfire. He knew that Crossfire would be able to break the security protocol on the rack in only a few seconds. The clay had damaged his armor and the system was having to compromise, he could either shoot or run, at least until the repair system finished its job.
Clicking his gauntlets Shockwave opened the door and several RAID agents flooded in, opening fire at Crossfire as Shockwave walked forward. He had one plan: grab hold of his target and hold on while he diverted his armour’s power to the electro-shock generators and fried Crossfire until his remains could fit in an ashtray.
“It’s over, Cross,” Shockwave sneered as Crossfire returned fire, cutting down one of the RAID agents. “I’ve got to say you’re a wily old fucker but that won’t save you.”
Crossfire turned, locking his gaze on the explosives. He ran as Shockwave’s heavy boot steps reverberated behind him. Reaching the plate above the coolant channel detonating the explosives and dropping him into the chemical sludge glowing in the darkness as it flowed towards a turbine generator shaft, the liquid thundering as it fell.
Behind him Crossfire heard something heavy follow him in and saw Shockwave wading after him, but he was too late. Crossfire reached the edge of the shaft and dropped towards the turbine. Shockwave peered over the edge and saw Crossfire latch onto the side and crawl down into one of the maintenance shafts. The chase was effectively over. The shafts had several exits and were two narrow for fully armoured troops to police effectively. Crossfire had chosen his exit strategy well.
Half an hour after Crossfire had vanished he re-emerged from the transport maintenance shaft, dropping down into a hanger containing one of RAID’s experimental gunships, the sleek black vehicle parked menacingly as technician’s finished scans.
Dropping down Crossfire waited until they left and slunk onboard. The pilot would never come back from his test flight, he thought, and while I didn’t get the main prize the ship was a fair consolation gift. RAID would have enough problems in a few minutes, as the Gunship warmed up before taxing out of the hanger. Removing his iPhone, Cross typed in a number before re-routing the message to his audio enhancements.
“Good Afternoon,” a female voice answered. “William, is that you?”
“It’s me, Gillette. Round up the usual suspects. I need bodies to throw at a problem.”
“Time and place?” Gillette asked.
“Six hours from now in Georgetown. I have a riverfront property that will be open to them providing they arrive covertly and don’t draw any attention to themselves.”
The Gunship flew over the tops of the forest. Reaching into his uniform’s pocket he removed a detonator before flicking the switch. Down below on the forest floor his back-pack smoked before exploding into flames, the incendiary gel packs igniting the fabric and forest floor. He knew it was petty but the thought of RAID burning down in a forest fire was amusing and it sure as hell made him feel better about being forced into the compromising position of team work.
He grimaced as he got up and headed for the cockpit, clutching one of his trade mark neural shutdown darts as he advanced on the pilot. He may have lost the battle, he thought as he jabbed the dart into the pilot’s neck, but the war had only just begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...