He ran. Though every step was agony, every heaving breath like hot coals raking through his lungs he ran on. Though he had no way of knowing where he was running to, other than simply away, and absolutely oblivious as to where he was, at least exactly. He ran. It was all that he could do now, except die. He found that despite what he might say at times, he was not quite ready for that final step just yet.
Somewhere below Echo Point,
Antarctica- the Savage Land:
He had landed the SHIELD Transport craft, if one might call a dead fall into a lake a landing, in relatively one piece. The craft at least. He had not suffered so elegantly. The plunge into the warm waters had ended the transport’s plunge abruptly, and despite the overly secure restraints he had been tossed about like a child’s rag doll. He had felt his shoulder pop as the restraints had ripped from their housings, his weight slamming against his arm as he flew into the sparking console, slamming hard enough to crack bone. His leg had twisted as the craft jerked back, settling after the impact, and blood had started to run into his eyes. Wincing he had pulled a shard of the already shattered windscreen from his brow, blinking as the blood flowed freely. And of course the downed craft had started to flood with water and sink.
Damn Marc Spector, and Nick Fury as well!
He had struggled to undo the tatters of the harness, then to get himself, hopping mind, out of the cockpit and the transport itself. His every move brought new pain as bones in his broken arm ground together and every step shot white-hot daggers into his knee. He had wiped away blood, moaning as he slung a survival pack over his shoulder, hobbling to the blown and flooding hatch, wading through hip deep water as the craft started to settle to port. He literally fell into the water and flowed out the doorway, finally, hoping that he would float to the surface, kicking and paddling as best he could.
He came up hacking and coughing, only then realizing that he had broken ribs as well. Gasping for breath, heaving he tried to float, to ease his way to the shoreline, which was luckily not too far away. Still, it seemed to take forever, and he barely remembered a time that he had been so thankful, so relieved as when he had finally dragged his broken, battered body onto the gritty sand of the beach. He had wanted nothing more then and there, than to simply rest and recover, just for a little while but of course that was not to happen.
He had heard the rustling in the brush. He knew of course that the Savage Land was filled with odd and archaic, prehistoric creatures both fearsome and benign. There was a fifty-fifty chance that it was simply an animal of some type coming to the lake, which was a watering hole no doubt. Still, he groaned and dug through the standard SHIELD survival pack and pulled out the standard issue Needler, loaded with its one standard issue clip. Ten shots if he was lucky. He was due of course, but not yet.
He saw them then, looking up with the gun extended in his good hand. They came from the brush and scrub along the tree line, three of them, and despite what he knew of the Savage land, what he knew to expect his eyes still bulged wide at the strange and slimy creatures that came snuffling from the brush. They were short, by the usual standard of the word and image of dinosaur. Four feet tall and a dull, faded green though their skin shone slickly in the heat and light. They had large, oblong heads, gaping maws filled with teeth he saw as they hissed and rasped at him. There were talons on the claws affixed to their stunted arms, and on their muscular legs as well. Their tails swished as they sniffed at the steamy air, great yellow eyes rolling, trying to focus.
His mind was awhirl as he tried to recall their names- Veloci-Raptor or some such he had learned from the Richard Attenborough film. Scavengers and killers, land sharks, death on two legs. They looked remarkably as they did in the film he noted as one by one they seemed to turn their attention on him. There was something odd though, and it took him a moment to realize what it was…
Collars!
The raptors were wearing collars. He raised his gun and fired, it did not matter. He heard the creatures wail as the hundreds of needles pelted their scaly skin. Most of the tiny projectiles bounced away, despite the close distance, their skin too thick. Still the animals winced and hissed, shying away as he fired again, struggling to rise. He was not going to kill them, he knew. He had to run.
Frenchie shrieked as he broke through the brush, losing his footing on the edge of a ravine, falling some ten feet into the sodden base of a gully where a stream ran slowly through muddy, reed filled earth. He landed hard in the mud and silt, on his already bad arm of course, and screamed again as his body was wracked by a new kind of pain. He heaved as his ribs shifted with his every movement, but he ignored the pain as best he could, trying to struggle back to his feet. The gun was gone, his luck still holding true, and he could hear the creatures rushing closer through the bush overhead.
Sweat stinging his eyes, mud dripping he struggled to his knees, then his feet and froze.
They called it Sabrus Gigantus or something equally silly. The scientists had no idea. Frenchie stared wide-eyed at the huge sabertooth tiger that was staring equally back at him. He felt something hot and wet run down his leg as the animal growled, a guttural thing, eyeing him like the soup de jour before shifting its attention to the raptors just popping through the flora at the ravine’s edge. It snarled, then growled and Frenchie dropped back to the mud.
The tiger leaped, and Frenchie screeched again, but the great lion soared overhead, passing him by. Frenchie twisted, trying to see, scared shitless but curious and saw the mighty tiger’s massive arm swing wide as its claws slashed a great gaping wound into the lead raptor’s side. The great cat then simply shifted and sank its long fangs into the next, ripping meat and spewing blood as it shook its mighty head. King of beasts, obviously, Frenchie paled as he tried to rise, watching the carnage and felt a hand under his arm, lifting him up. He gasped, ribs grinding as he clutched his chest, craned his neck, his head whipping about.
“Rest easy, friend.”
He was a big man dressed only in a loin cloth, a bit of ripped, beaten leather covering his privates though belted with an Army gear belt. He had a long knife sheathed, matching animal skin boots and that was all save for his long, golden hair. He was handsome, and filthy, his skin bronzed over rippling muscles, his eyes a piercing blue as he peered down at Frenchie and smiled.
“You look like you’ve been through a grinder,” he said, his voice deep and firm “don’t worry. Zabu’s hungry. She’ll make short work of Zaladane’s watch dogs.”
Frenchie glanced back and saw that that was true, if Zabu was the tiger, and he thought she was as the files finally came flooding in to fill the gaps. The great cat had the last raptor locked in its jaws and was shaking it wildly, blood spewing with the effort. Frenchie turned back, trying to speak, and the man grinned slightly, holding him up and supporting his bad leg.
“Yeah, it’s me,” the tall man said, grinning widely. “Plunder… Kevin Plunder- Lord. But you can call me Ka-Zar! And maybe you can tell me just what in the hell is going on?”
The Great River,
The Savage Land:
T’Challa, King of all the Wakandas heaved, straining muscles in his arms and legs to their limits. Sweat rolled down his skin, staining the slick black of his ceremonial costume, the traditional garb of his totem; the Black Panther. The cords in his neck bulged as a cry of rage built from his effort, yet he did not quit. If anything he willed his strength ever greater, drawing on all the power and skill that the Panther God might grant...
CRACK!
With a grunt that was half satisfaction, half exhaustion, T’Challa let the huge beast drop to the jungle floor at his feet. His arms were shaking from adrenaline and effort as he stared down at the monster still whimpering and kicking as it expelled its waste in a dying gasp, its jaws and neck shattered by the Panther’s rage.
He had fought wolves before, but the monster lying at his feet had been far larger than anything he had ever encountered of the like. It was far closer to a great bear in mass, and far worse in feral savagery. Truly a savage creature in a savage land.
“No…”
The Black Panther turned to hear the whispered, choked voice. He blinked, staring in almost wonder at the gangly, scraggly man standing not a half-dozen yards away in a tangle of weeds. He recognized the Mutate of course, had encountered him before, years ago with the Avengers. Lupo was best described as a poor man’s version of Wolverine in mutant ability, or perhaps more akin to Wild Child of Canada’s Flight Program. Regardless, the Black Panther was surprised that the man, despite his acquired skills had managed to draw so near unheard. T’Challa wondered if perhaps he was getting old, but smelling the offal of the prehistoric wolf at his feet decided on distraction.
“You killed him!” Lupo shrieked, his eyes popping mad with fire and tears. “You killed my baby!” T’Challa saw other wolves maneuvering in the wooded brush behind the mad man. There were three, four more animals stalking, ready to attack at Lupo’s command. Lupo himself was shaking, hunkering…
“Get him!” he shouted, spittle flying from his slavering jaws. “Kill! Kill!”
As one the four wolves charged forward, a precision pack bent on the kill. The Panther crouched, seconds away from certain death. It had not taken his all to beat only one of the great, fearsome creatures, but it had been close. He knew that he would not survive a combined assault of four. Though it left a sour taste in his mouth to flee from one such as Lupo, he could not serve if he was dead. He tensed-
Something huge stepped in front of him, towering and casting him in shadow. The Black Panther’s eyes narrowed, then flew wide. It was one thing for one such as Lupo to creep up on him unheard, but the Juggernaut?
“Need a hand, kitty?”
Cain Marko simply swept his arm through the air as the two front running wolves leaped. T’Challa heard the sound of bones breaking in the animals, their heads snapping sideways beyond their limits from the casual blow. Marko simply laughed as the third followed suit, leaping for his throat and he simply reached out with his other hand and grabbed the creature by his own. The fourth charged forward, but more cautiously and staying to ground, not that it mattered. Marko squeezed the life out of the wolf in hand, blood spewing as the beast’s squeals of agony cut short. He then swung his arm up and down, smashing the captured wolf into the other as it tried to dash by. Both fell in a crumpled heap of bloody fur atop the body of the first that the Panther had killed. The Juggernaut had cleared the field of four in less time than it had taken T’Challa to defeat one.
Marko simply chuckled, wiping splattered blood from his hands as the Panther stood at his side, offering thanks. Both men then looked to the Mutate. Lupo’s eyes were wide, his face slack with shock as he stared at the mangled remains of his pets. Finally though he turned his gaze up to his foes. Lupo turned and ran.
“Come,” T’Challa said already giving chase. “The others may need our help.”
“I doubt it,” the Juggernaut said as he charged forward, simply smashing his way through the dense jungle wood without breaking stride. “If that’s the best they got. I pity what gets in Wolverine’s way.”
“Lupo is not the least,” the Panther answered, surprised at the behemoth’s speed. He was keeping up mainly because the Black Panther had to swerve and dodge around what the Juggernaut simply plowed through. “Neither is he the best, but they have mentalists in their number, and Brainchild is quite intelligent. Where is your team?”
“Dunno,” Marko shrugged, batting a tree aside. “The transport hit a bird, or something. Went down like a rock. We bailed, got separated. I was lookin’ for them. Found you instead.”
“Luckily for me.”
The two men reached the edge of the Savage Land’s Great River within seconds, though several yards upriver from the cavernous opening that led to the sea, eventually. The Panther’s group had traversed the river from Marguerite Bay, a toil in itself, and they thought that they had reached the Savage Land undetected. Apparently they had been mistaken, if Lupo had found them. If the feral Mutate was in league with the Viper, odds were so were his allies, and no doubt already engaging his companions.
Indeed, T’Challa saw the Savage Land Mutates attacking his fellows not so far away near the river’s mouth. He recognized the strange once men who had been altered years before by the evil machinations of Magneto, Master of Magnetism. The Mutates had appeared from time to time since, attempting to implement grandiose schemes composed by their leader, Brainchild- a brilliant mind with the temperament of a toddler. He was standing to the rear on the far side of the river in relative safety, beside a gaunt, pink-garbed man known as Equilibrius whose gaze could render anyone useless, throwing the target’s equilibrium into chaos.
Already across the river and engaging his allies were four-armed Barbarus and Gaza the blind giant. Both were brutes, inhumanly strong and skilled fighters though no where in the league of any of their foe. Dangerous not to discount, but beatable. He did not see the others, aside from Lupo trying to recross the river, and was surprised at the Mutate’s lack of number. Perhaps Viper had the others out in the Savage Land engaging the other teams, the SHIELD strike forces that all hoped to stop her mad scheme of destroying the world’s metals and thus throw civilization into chaos.
The true dream of her nihilistic goals, the world collapsing, crumbling by her hand. Millions dying in the carnage and she there to pick up the pieces- or die in the process. The woman was mad of course, and T’Challa thought that she probably did not care in either extreme as long as her endeavors achieved fruition.
What rankled the Wakandan monarch the most however was that she sought to use forms of Vibranium to bring about her ends. All of the factors were not clear as yet, but SHIELD Intelligence had determined that Viper through her one time use of the fabled Serpent Crown of Lemuria had learned the secret location of a massive load of inert Vibranium. Buried harmlessly at sea after obligatory battle involving the Sub-Mariner and Iron Man no less, the once stable metal had gone inert, useless and sunk to the sea bottom, hopefully to be forgotten. The mental link she shared with others who had worn the Serpent Crown however had revealed the location to her through the memories of Hugh Jones, former President of Roxxon Oil. She in turn developed a scheme of recovery and coerced Sebastian Shaw, the Black King of the Hellfire Club as well as a millionaire steel magnate of disrepute to become involved. No doubt Shaw with his unimaginable wealth had funded her mad schemes with her hollow promises that somehow his holdings would survive the aftermath of recovering the inert Vibranium and transporting it here to the Savage Land and the area held by Roxxon Oil. Once there, and the inert Vibranium came into contact with the Savage Land’s own unique and plenty form of the vibrational metal the resultant clash would form anti-Vibranium that would produce a wave of harmonic discord that would spread out and sweep the very range of the planet. The result would be the destruction of all the world’s metals to a degree. An unimaginable goal, or so one would think, yet Viper seemed tantalizingly close to achieving her dreams of worldwide destruction through chaos and anarchy-
He barely saw the flash of green as the fist connected, driving him to the ground. He shook his head, trying to focus just as Amphibius the man frog Mutate landed and leaped away, barely dodging the Juggernaut’s sweeping fist. He heard the Mutate’s croaking laugh as his slimy form bounced in amongst the trees, gaining momentum for a new assault.
“Snooze and lose, Avenger! I owed you that from last time! And there’s more where that came from!”
“Jeez,” Cain Marko grumbled, shifting slightly as he watched the frog man zip through the jungle, a verdant blur nearly invisible in the foliage. “Is that guy for real?” he asked, extending a hand to help the Panther to his feet. T’Challa shook his head, trying to focus on the bounding form.
“Unfortunately. Help the others, Juggernaut. This one is mine.”
“You got ‘im, pal.” Juggernaut shrugged and stalked off towards the larger battle unfolding yards away leaving the Panther to his foe alone. Three times now he had been surprised. If he was truly getting old and slow, now was the time to find out…
Eugene Judd turned at the sound of the wildly screeching voice and saw the Mutate known as Lupo climbing out of the river on the far bank. He was frantic, running hard and for good reason he saw as he glanced up river and saw the Juggernaut striding in his wake. Hell, Puck would probably run too with Marko on his ass. Probably…
Later for that though as he shifted his attention back to his own troubles. Barbarus was a big, burly freak with four arms, but he was by no means slow and clumsy. He was actually quite skilled, no doubt a result of determination to make himself better after countless defeats. He wielded a broad sword in one hand, and a more conventional wooden club in another and was actually quite adept with the two-weapon fighting style invented by French royalty centuries before. What made him dangerous however were the additional two arms that kept sweeping and groping, making the Mutate a whirling dervish of flailing arms that actually moved in an almost beatific rhythm.
Puck of Alpha Flight was by no means a hoser, however. Small and fast he was grace in motion as he spun about the swirling arms of Barbarus, dodging the slashing sword and swinging club with equal ease. Too, he was strong, and gifted, his stunted body packed with its own mutations along with a demon D’jinn that both helped and hindered, increasing his abilities while making him a dwarf in his own right. It hurt, there was constant pain of a sort keeping the demon within at bay, but Eugene Judd was ever a fighter and warrior. Death was always a step away at seemed, but it was a life that he would not change and laughed at the thought, but for Heather Hudson. Of course that would never happen.
Judd leaped, rolling and kicking and increasing his momentum as he turned his dive into a series of flips and cartwheels. He spun rapidly, head over heels as he arched his body out and around, his balance and sense of direction immaculate as he veered towards his four-armed foe. Barbarus turned, snarling, swinging his blade in a wide sweep that Judd easily avoided, his feet slamming hard as he passed and the four-armed terror dropped to the ground on a shattered knee.
“Ooo, that’s gotta hurt, eh?” Puck laughed as he leaped and rolled again, whipping about for another pass.
“Dwarfin freak! I’ll kill you!” Barbarus snarled, favoring his broken leg. His muscles bulged as he brought his arms about, weapons ready to strike, his two free hands in defense. Puck laughed again.
“Who are you calling freak, hoser?” Puck bounced, his own muscles bunching as he leaped through Barbarus’ slashing arms, his own massive fist slamming hard into the warrior’s nose. Eugene Judd heard bone crunch as he flew past and ricocheted off a river rock, bouncing back to slam his shoulder into the Mutate’s back. Barbarus screamed as something snapped and he fell forward face first into the sandy bank. Judd rolled to a stop at last, coming up in a defensive crouch but ready to continue as he eyed the four-armed Mutate. He jerked, flinched a bit as he turned his face from the dirt to draw ragged breath with a moan. His weapons fell from limp hands as he whimpered, his back broken.
Judd felt a moment’s pity, knowing that he had probably crippled the man. But the Mutate had been trying to kill him. He was lucky Puck had not acted in kind. Eugene Judd offered the warrior a final glance and nod, then turned his attention elsewhere…
Logan ducked and slashed as Gaza’s blow shot past overhead. The blind giant was strong to be sure, and fast, but compared to Wolverine he may as well have been standing still.
Logan had sheathed his claws after disarming the giant, slicing his club into four useless bits of wood. Gaza had stared blankly at the stub remaining in his hand before tossing it aside and moving in hand to hand. Wolverine had smirked, retracting his claws to meet the attack head on. Gaza was easily twice his height and mass, and he had been trained to wrestle at least. Too, he had a sort of psychic ‘radar sense’ like Dare Devil that let him ‘see’, and actually gave him a bit of an edge, at least against a regular opponent. Logan figured that made the odds just about equal.
Gaza punched and he blocked, driving his own fist into the giant’s rock-hard gut. He was rewarded by a grunt and a wince, but the Mutate swung again, his backhand smashing into Logan’s ear, sending him reeling with a spinning head. Wolverine grinned.
“That yer best, big man? Shit, I know little girl’s hit harder than that.”
“Mock me at your own peril, dwarf. I will strangle the life from you once I get hold-“
“Yeah, yeah…”
Wolverine leaned back and kicked out hard as the mutate stepped in for a fresh attack. His snap kick shattered ribs, but the giant simply grunted, his massive arms sweeping the air over Wolverine’s head. Logan stepped to the side, dropping into a crouch to slam his foot behind Gaza’s knee, dropping the big man to the ground in a sweep. The giant however was better than he had given credit. His fist shot out, slamming hard into Logan’s face, drawing blood. Logan spat-
“Nice shot,” he said with a grin, licking his split lip, feeling his Healing Factor already sealing the wound. “You’re good fer a grunt, but me? I’m magic.”
Wolverine’s fists shot out in rapid succession, lightning quick jabs to the giant’s groin. He did not hold back in the least, throwing fair play out the window. He glanced at Gaza’s face as each blow struck home, watching as the pain set in, washing over him as his blank eyes rolled upwards. Gaza moaned, and to his credit tried to fend off the assault and strike in his own right, but the pain was too much. Despite his size and mutation, Gaza was still just a man.
Wolverine scrambled back as the big warrior finally sagged and fell forward with a resounding thud. Logan waited, ready to strike, but despite a final moan the giant did not move. Wolverine sighed.
Standing he looked about the battlefield. He saw Puck standing over the unconscious form of Barbarus, and across the river he was surprised to see Cain Marko, the Juggernaut striding towards Brainchild, Lupo and Equilibrius. He did not see the Blacks; neither Widow or Panther but was not worried. They could take care of themselves. For now, the important thing was to stop the Mutates across the Great River. Equilibrius could still bring them all down with a glance, and who knew what Brainchild had cooked up.
“Judd!” he shouted, pointing to the Mutates on the far side of the river and saw the smaller man look and nod. Eugene Judd was a great partner, at least in his experience. They both thought alike, and few words were needed in the end. As one, together and separate they both started moving towards the water…
Natalia Alianovna Romanova watched from the edge of the trees as Wolverine and Puck dropped the two mutated brutes and quickly shifted their focus towards Brainchild and the other two remaining in the Mutate band. She licked her lips, watching as Cain Marko as well strode forward unafraid, secure in the knowledge that he could not be stopped. And certainly that was true, at least to a point. Equilibrius however was an x-factor that bore watching however.
Granted, the Juggernaut’s massive helmet was proof against all but the strongest mental attacks, but the queerly garbed Mutate’s powers were not mental per se. It was more a line of sight attack, and if his gaze met his enemy’s it would throw his foe into a state of disorientation. She doubted if Marko had proof against that and hesitated, just in case they might need…
But no-
Puck was a blur, a whirling dervish as he cartwheeled from the waters of the Great River barely breaking stride as he spun towards the trio, slamming hard into the gossamer clad Equilibrius. The impact threw the Mutate far and back, and Natalia could see at a glance that his head struck hard upon landing.
Her attention shifted to see Logan’s claws pop from the housings on the back of his hands as he approached Lupo and Brainchild. The latter was screeching and shouting orders to the feral Mutate, whom obviously was torn between duty and cowardice. Not that he had time to debate. Wolverine snarled and leaped as Brainchild spun and ran; though he was not Logan’s intended target.
Adamantium claws slashed through flesh and muscle as Lupo tried to leap out of the X-Man’s path. He was too slow however, his scream piercing the air and setting her teeth to grind with the shrill octaves. She saw blood as Wolverine cut and slashed at near blinding speed, his arms a flurry as his claws bit deep and precise. She knew just what the Mutant was doing, even at a glance and agreed, though harsh as it was. It was deserved, with what the villains had planned for the world. Unless Lupo had a Healing Factor equivalent too Logan’s, he would not walk again; a crippled beast that his pack would either abandon or put out of his misery. A worthy fate, and justice.
She turned her attention on Brainchild then, too late. Marko held him high by the scruff of his neck, the small man kicking and screaming to no avail. She heard Marko’s laugh as he simply swatted the stunted Mutate, heard something snap and saw the savage’s body go limp and dangling. Juggernaut seemed to stare at the little man for a moment, and she could imagine that his thoughts were mirroring her own. Was that all?
The Black Widow turned and ran into the jungle, quickly getting her bearings as she headed towards the Roxxon Oil Compound situated near what was once New Britannia. It was a few miles, and would be a hard run under the best circumstances. Running through the undergrowth and in the humidity of the Savage Land however, it would be Hell. She had to go however, because she knew.
The Mutates had been nothing but a distraction. She could only imagine that the other teams were likewise occupied to gain Viper whatever time she needed to implement her mad schemes of genocide. Damn it! Logan had been right!
They should have simply attacked head on.
Now it was a race…
“Well, that was useless,” Cain Marko said accepting a cigar from Wolverine as he watched the Black Panther drop the unconscious form of Amphibious atop the heaping pile of defeated Mutates. He couldn’t help but notice the odd angles of the Mutate’s frog legs. Unless ‘Hippity-Hoppity’ was quadruple jointed, the Black Panther had got a bit of pay back.
“I concur,” the Panther said, pulling back his mask and wiping the sweat from his face. Marko was steaming in the heat and humidity, but at least his armor wasn’t as full fitting as the Panther’s. He couldn’t imagine how the man could handle it, even if he was from Africa. It was a different kind of heat.
“Obviously a delaying tactic,” T’Challa continued, sipping water from a plastic bottle from one of their survival packs, then pouring the rest over his head.
“We best get moving then, eh?” Puck agreed, and Wolverine nodded, his eyes scanning what had been the battlefield. Aside from the pile of unconscious Mutates it was really beautiful, Marko noted. The jungle was full and green, stretching off into the distance as far as he could see with huge, misty mountains rising far in the distance, shrouded in clouds. The river was sparkling and clear and tasted so clean and pure like he had never encountered before. Just like the air. It was almost paradise. He wished Tom were there to see it.
“I think Tasha’s already on the way,” Wolverine said, tossing his cigar into the river. Marko scowled, watching as it washed downstream and into the cavern that eventually led to the ocean beyond. “We’re gonna be hard-pressed ta catch up, so we better get goin’. I don’t wanna get left outta the big finish. Soon as yer done day dreamin’ Marko?”
Juggernaut turned to Logan, his face darkening. Marko sighed, letting his fists unclench. It was hard sometimes.
“Get movin’ shorty, an’ stay outta my way.”
He saw Wolverine smirk, and as one the other three men turned and started running at a steady pace for their final destination. They were all faster, but the Juggernaut was an unstoppable force of motion. He would set a pace and endure until he got to his goal, most likely to pick up the pieces of whatever the others left. Save the day. No rush.
Marko took a long final look about the area and sighed- paradise. After all this was over- if they won of course- he might just settle here for awhile. Build a hut, get ‘in touch’ with the natives, and do a little dinosaur hunting. The good life…
“Yo, Marko! You comin’ or what?”
Cain Marko sighed again and started off…
The Eternity Mountain Range,
Near Mt Terror:
Fire washed across the area as Sunfire laughed…
Rattler screamed, the blaze encompassing him, burning. The heat was tremendous, unimaginable. He felt his bionics melting, freezing up as his skin started to boil and burn. He gasped for air as the oxygen flash fried and evaporated around him, the conflagration raging about him, scorching the earth. He tried to act, to attack, but his head was spinning, already delusional in the intense heat. His tail rattled once, then fell limp as his joints froze and melted. He collapsed.
Shiro Yoshida turned with a wide grin to see his comrades facing off against the final two. The Serpent Society were fools apparently to send so small a squad against them. Nightcrawler had taken Bushmaster easily, not even breaking a sweat in the humidity, and he had dropped Rattler in a fiery blast that left little in its wake. That left Anaconda and Princess Python for Nighthawk. Pathetic…
Kyle Richmond was an idiot apparently, as the big ugly gaijin woman had stretched her arms to wrap about the rich man. He was struggling, and Shiro could see the agony on his face as the coils that were her bionic arms wrapped ever tighter about him. She was focused on making Richmond suffer though, her eyes locked on her prisoner and her attention lost on the rest of the battle. Shiro called forth the fire-
Only to be stopped by Nightcrawler, appearing in a cloud of choking smoke. The blue, furry Mutant placed a distorted hand on Sunfire’s arm, wincing at the heat and making Shiro sneer in disgust at the unclean touch. Wagner seemed a decent man- if you could call him that. He was just such a freak-
“I’ll help Nighthawk, Mein freund,” the X-Man said with a vampiric smile. You handle the Princess, please, and her large friend.”
Nightcrawler vanished again with a ‘Bamf’ and another cloud of sulfuric smoke as Japan’s greatest warrior turned towards Princess Python. He recognized the woman from old intelligence files. She had been a member of the Ring Master’s Circus of Crime over the years, and had worked with the Serpent Squad and Society as well, though had never been more than a pathetic waste of beauty and talent, such as it was. She apparently had an amazing affinity to ‘charm’ snakes, though some talent of her own rather than a Mutant gift he imagined, or perhaps so latent as to never be considered by the likes of Sentinels.
Whatever, she stood before him now trying her best to look seductive despite her years. She looked good- for a white woman- but she also looked old, and Shiro tried to recall just when she had first appeared and how long she had been a nuisance to the super hero community. He wondered just how she had ever been anything but a minor distraction to the likes of Thor and Iron Man. It was incredible that she had ever given them pause, let alone been a threat. Why to even consider that the aging woman might-
Sunfire blinked to feel the sudden pressure about his legs and looked down to see the prehistoric monstrosity at Princess Python’s command wrapping about his legs, squeezing as it slithered up his body. He understood then.
Pheromones- the woman had some type of power to dull the senses, to ‘charm’, and she had lulled him into some sense of pleasure while her pet had crept upon him. Whether Mutant or not, it did not matter. He understood, and could easily end this-
“Burn…”
Fire erupted about him and he felt the massive prehistoric snake spasm and writhe in the conflagration. Its grip loosened immediately as it hissed and recoiled, falling away and trying to escape. Shiro sneered and simply placed his hands on the scaly skin of the monster, redirecting the flames to burn the creature, killing it with his intense atomic spawned heat.
He heard the Princess crying, screaming as her connection to her pet was severed. If she took some psychic backlash from the assault, all the better. She had tried to seduce him after all, and would have squeezed the very life from his body if not for his natural bias against westerners. The very bigotry that set him apart from the others had actually saved his life. It seemed somehow ironic.
He felt no pity whatsoever as the great serpent fell dead at his feet, charred and smoldering. Nor did he feel pity to look upon the Princess Python as she knelt yards away, cradling the monster’s head in her lap. She was crying, stroking the beast’s scaly head, weeping over its lifeless eyes. Western women were strange indeed. Better to end this now, put her out of her misery. He felt the fire swell within, burning for release-
“At ease, Shiro,” Richmond said with a wince, laying hand on Sunfire’s arm, forcing it down. Shiro Yoshida smelled burnt flesh as he glanced at Nighthawk. Kyle Richmond was struggling to not show the pain in his seared, smoldering hands. “She’s done,” he said, his voice cracking a bit as he motioned to the unconscious form of Anaconda a few yards away, her stunted arms sparking, her hands missing and in the possession of Nightcrawler. Wagner tossed the lifeless appendages away with a shrug “they all are.”
Sunfire let the fires die as Nighthawk simply strode to the Princess as drove his fist across her face, knocking her unconscious in perhaps the single most anti-climatic blow that he had ever witnessed. The battle was done, just like that.
“That was pointless,” Shiro said as he looked about. The four members of the Serpent Society all lay motionless and he had not even worked up a sweat- not that he sweated actually, but-
“Not pointless,” Richmond said as Wagner leaped into their midst, crouching.
“A distraction?’ the dark, fuzzy elf asked with a curious gaze.
“Yeah,” Nighthawk said with a nod. “Viper played us for fools. She knew where we’d strike and slowed us down so she could do what she had to do. She’s been manipulating all of us from the beginning, and I’m getting sick of it.”
“Be sick on your time, American,” Shiro said, realizing that Richmond was right, though he would never admit it. “We best move on to the final destination then, as quickly as we can. If Viper succeeds-“
“She won’t,” Nighthawk said as he checked the jet-pack beneath his wings, making sure that Anaconda’s squeeze had not damaged it before Nightcrawler had teleported away with her bionic arms. Luckily the cybernetic link she had with the arms had ruptured with their loss and knocked her out.
“Fury has a back up plan if we fail. He didn’t get too specific, but we better not. I got the impression that we’re all expendable.”
Sunfire stared at Kyle Richmond, looking for any sign that the man was joking. He glanced at Nightcrawler and saw that his old, one-time team-mate was just as shocked.
“Surely Fury would not resort to atomic weaponry?”
Richmond shrugged. “I would. Think about it. Destroy the Savage Land in order to save the world? Not a hard choice I think.”
Both Nightcrawler and Sunfire frowned in agreement. They exchanged a look, old friends- sort of- though neither would ever say it outloud. Wagner smiled and Yoshida nodded in understanding.
“We had best get moving then, Herr Richmond,” Nightcrawler said as he hunkered, preparing to teleport. “I’d hate to hear about the end of the world over beers with Logan.”
Shiro laughed. “No lie there, misfit.”
Roxxon Oil Compound- New Britain,
Lost Lake,
The Savage Land:
“Well, I’ve seen worse odds…”
Marc Spector smirked that special ‘eat shit’ grin he had perfected over the years in one of his other personalities as he cast a glance sideways at Agent Thirteen. Like him she was filthy and smelling of the swamp that they had waded through together just a few minutes before. They were both sweating bullets in the abnormally humid heat of the Savage Land despite the somewhat cooler breeze blowing off of Lost Lake as they crouched and hunkered in the brush just a few yards from the rusted cyclone fence, which surrounded the old Roxxon Oil compound. Thick smoke from the refineries and drilling stations towering over the otherwise unpolluted-looking waters roiled over them on that breeze occasionally as the wind shifted, sending them both face down into the damp earth to get away from the choking clouds. Even from a distance the noise from the makeshift drills and pumping stations was raucous and overpowering, causing both to speak far louder than they were comfortable with.
They had no worries however as the dozens upon dozens of agents and mercenaries littering the compound were all helmeted and wore radios that were constantly abuzz with chatter or static. The only ones that might possibly hear them were Viper and her immediate underlings, and they were all too far away and otherwise involved watching their schemes come to fruition.
Sharon Carter, Agent Thirteen of SHIELD glanced back at Spector and sniffed, finally nodding in agreement. “Me too, though it’s been awhile,” she said before returning her attention to scrutinizing the compound. Spector noticed that her thumb drifted back to her mouth and she at once started half-sucking, then gnawing on her fingernail as she took everything in. A nervous habit apparently, while she was thinking. Nice to know she was human.
Spector settled in, shifting his legs as he scratched at one of the many mosquito bites that he had picked up in the swamp. It was his own fault for stripping to the waist like some ‘B’ Movie Tarzan imitation in the heat, and at the time it had seemed the right thing to do, though he was regretting it now. He would be damn lucky if he did not come down with Malaria or something worse; something that the SHIELD Medics had not inoculated them all for. They had so far been really lucky in all regards since the plunge they had taken from the transport.
He and Carter had hooked up not long after both had landed- roughly- in the jungles. Neither had taken injury thanks to her SHIELD issue anti-grav harness and his own glider cape though the thermals upon descent had been a bitch. After dumping her harness, and he had tucked away his cape they had scouted a bit, hoping to find the others. There was no telling where Marko had landed, after jumping out of the transport- arrogant ass that he was. He was probably miles away, and at the time they had assumed that Lang was as well. At his tiny size despite his flying ants, the updrafts and winds could have carried him anywhere before he got his flight under control. And of course, there was Frenchie…
Marc Spector sighed, hoping that his oldest, best friend had survived the crash of the transport turned falling rock. He had tried to keep a bead on the plummeting craft as he glided down, but he was soon too busy struggling to save himself from death, and then the SHIELD craft had disappeared into the valley fog and was lost to sight. He had not heard a crash, and upon their own descent, while he and Carter had been getting their bearings and waiting, neither had spotted smoke. A good sign, he supposed.
He had wanted to search of course- for all of them- but Carter had been adamant that they continue the mission. The others would have to make do, and hope for the best. In the end, Spector had grudgingly agreed though he had been none too happy about it. They had trudged on then, that was the only word for it- trudging, or maybe slogging. What else did one do in the jungle. It was slow going, and they had been damn lucky not to meet up with anything that was too nasty, nothing too large that the SHIELD issue ‘Needlers’ couldn’t handle. They had seen a Tyrannosaur in the distance and easily skirted it as it was too intent on ripping the flesh from a small Triceratops, which it had either found or killed itself. It had actually been easy going, considering some of the tales of the Savage Land that he had heard. At least until they had reached the swamp. That had been hell in itself as the humidity had seemed to treble instantly. Then there was that sulfurous stench that had them both gagging until they broke out the rebreathers. There had been huge snakes and leeches the size of his fists slithering through the thick, stagnant waters. And of course the air had been abuzz with insects; gnats and black flies and worse, mosquitoes the size of New York sewer rats. Through it all Carter had barely batted an eye and simply swatted away occasionally at anything that came too near. Spector on the other hand had whined like a bitch- trying to keep his mind off Frenchie.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Marc.”
Marc Spector blinked to see Sharon Carter looking at him, her big blue eyes sparkling in the queer light of perpetual midday. She actually seemed concerned. She WAS human after all. And then she turned away-
“Get straight, soldier. Something’s happening.”
Marc Spector tried to refocus, surveying the scene beyond the treeline and the cyclone fence. Nothing had changed that he could see, the entire compound was a buzz of activity, like an anthill gone crazy or worse. It was like Senator Kelly’s worse nightmare had vomited all over this particular stretch of beach. He saw what had to be Neanderthals; big hulking brutes armed with metal truncheons lording over the more human looking denizens of the Savage Land that had been enslaved by Roxxon to do their grunt work. He did not recognize the various peoples except for the Fall People tribe and what had to be Swamp Men, but there were dozens bordering on hundreds probably. Side by side with the Neanderthals were regular humans too, Homo Sapien at its finest with representatives from too many groups and organizations. There were simple Roxxon Oil employees no doubt on hand for the refinery and off shore rigs all dressed in purple jump suits and going about their duties as though nothing untoward was happening. Mingling throughout as well were agents of the Hellfire Club dressed in their faceless, slick black uniforms, and Sons of the Serpent in their bulky greenish tunics and huge snake crested helmets. He saw agents of the Serpent Society too; the Serpent Squadron dressed in costumes reminiscent of the original Viper’s. Oddly, in the mix he saw the bulky yellow jumpsuits and high helmets that were the trademark of AIM, and two men near the main stage dressed in the long, flowing robes of the Secret Empire. Beyond that there were also simple mercenaries, greasy men with guns and smoking cigarettes, dressed in tattered fatigues. It was indeed a fucking army, and lording over all were the Mutants- Homo Superior, or at least superior in their own minds.
Standing near the upraised staging platform he could see Black Mamba, Asp and Cobra of the Serpent Society. Spector assumed that the other missing members were out in the field somewhere, probably hunting the other teams. He knew Cobra was relatively useless unless they got too close, his specialty being hand-to-hand combat, but the two women were another story. Asp was deadly with her poisonous darts or bites or whatever she used, and Mamba was a mentalist of some sort, playing off emotions to get her prey in close for the kill.
Standing on the stage itself he saw another woman that seemed familiar from the files. It was either Lorelei of the Beast Brood- the Mutates, or else Vertigo, the later addition spawned by Brainchild. By the way Sebastian Shaw was on his knees and groveling at her feet, Spector’s money was on the prior. She had a voice to sap a man’s will, so the files said. She had apparently used her power on the Hellfire Club’s Black King. But why? Shaw was supposedly Viper’s financial backer and partner in her scheme. And speaking of Viper-
The woman stood on the uppermost platform of the dais, watching as the immediate world turned on her whim. She was decked in her old Madame Hydra leathers, complete with raven-black hair tinted green and her telltale whip dangling. She looked hot in a domineering sort of way, but she only had eyes for the goal, and apparently the man that she had strung up on the big, oval framework that dominated most of the stage. He seemed vaguely familiar, though from profile and emasculated as he was it was hard to tell for certain. He was strapped and chained to the metal frame and connected by wires and leads to the surrounding machinery; naked and hairless so obviously some kind of cybernetic hook up, but-
“It’s Voelker,” Carter said, answering his unspoken question, “Sidewinder.”
And then it all made sense. He had wondered just how- even with all the equipment and manpower they were going to get the inert Vibranium that Shaw had salvaged from the Atlantic and transported to Antarctica actually into the Savage Land. It would take forever, as there was no easy entrance, but now he knew and the ‘Secret Word’ was transport. Sidewinder’s big lease on criminal life was his ability to teleport, and apparently Viper had hired AIM and probably the Secret Empire to adapt Voelker’s technology or Mutant ability, whichever, to a larger scale. Hell, in one fell swoop they would have the inert Vibranium within proximity of Antarctic Vibranium. Roxxon’s converted machinery was dredging the inert metal into a mound just off shore, and when that was ready Voelker would teleport the Savage Land’s equivalent in and when that happened…
“Jesus…”
“You gotta hand it to her though,” Carter mused as she gnawed on her thumbnail, “Viper pulled out all the stops again. She always does.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Doom’s spinnin’ in his grave for not thinking of this first. What’s the plan, boss?”
Carter smirked and pulled her Needler from her holster, changing the clip. She spun it on her finger once before sliding it back into the holster strapped to her leg. “Shoot the Mutants first. Aim for the head. Try not to get shot, and run like hell.”
“That’s it?” Marc Spector blinked, looking at the woman at his side in shock.
“What part of ‘Suicide Mission’ didn’t you understand? We’re all expendable here Spector. I thought Fury made that clear enough. Viper does not win.”
“Jesus. He’s gonna nuke the Savage Land if we fail, isn’t he?”
“Well, look who finally caught up.”
Marc Spector was about to retort when the sound of gunfire exploded from the compound. They both snapped about to see a lithe figure dressed in a skin tight black jump suit dashing towards the main platform. It was the Black Widow, running and dodging and firing her Widow’s Bite at anything in her way- that being a veritable army.
“Fuck!” Carter cursed as she scrambled to her feet and charged from the brush, her own gun in hand and ablaze. “Goddamn super hero prima donnas!”
Spector drew his own weapon and followed, his glider cape snapping into place at the click of studs on his bracers once he was clear of the jungle. If he was going to die- and he knew that he probably was- then let it be with a little style at least, and in the air.
Voelker’s continual mewling and moaning was music to her ears, she had to admit. She never got tired of hearing them suffer, begging her for mercy that she would never give. Mercy that none deserved. The sounds of their whining rolling through her memory kept the nightmares away and made her feel warm at night as well. Life was good.
Viper smiled a Voelker, watching him writhe as the energy built up in the teleport mechanism, an apparatus converted from the twisted memories of Hugh Jones and his brief flight of fancy with the merged Roxxon/Brand of years past. The initial design had been for inter-dimensional transport, to and from the world of the Squadron Supreme. When the Avengers had defeated Jones’ dreams of grandeur of course the original device had been destroyed, but she had learned from her mental link with Jones through the Serpent Crown that the schematics had been purchased by individuals aligned with the reformed Secret Empire. Of course it had been simplicity itself to subvert them to her goals, with her own ways and wiles, and Shaw’s unlimited funds. Then just the matter of hiring disgruntled technicians from Brand and AIM, and even the mutated dwarf Brainchild to recreate the device and convert it to draw on Voelker’s unique abilities of teleportation, refining it for far more fine manipulation and exactness- not to mention the mass involved in transporting the tonnage of unstable metal over leagues.
It had all come together nicely, if not perfectly. Nothing that could not be planned for if one had the mind to do so. Her smile grew as she glanced at Shaw still busily licking at the imaginary dirt on the platform at her feet. Case in point, she had known that Shaw would have doubts near the end, when he learned the true majesty of her dreams. She had lied of course, simply to gain his backing and trust. Lied in telling him that his steel holdings would be spared from the vibrational wave that would wash the world and destroy the planets’ metal resources both natural and refined. He had been a fool to trust her as long as he had, but she had played on his greed, his own dreams of conquest and blinded him just long enough. And of course she had been ready for his eventual betrayal. The Mutate Lorelei had been prepared for her signal and Shaw had fallen as easily as they would all fall in the end.
“You missed a spot, Shaw,” she said, almost allowing herself to laugh as she slid the toe of her boot under his nose again. She had used him well, both he and his little group of world leaders in the Hellfire Club. Their little attack of last winter on the UN had lured in the Ambassador of Wakanda and she had used the stolen technology of Basil Sandhurst- the Controller- to extract the knowledge of Vibranium from his weak and otherwise worthless mind. She had used the Club’s combined resources to secure whatever she needed, allowing Shaw and Leland to manipulate their own holdings toward a future that would never come to pass. They had used their vast corporate influence to takeover the derelict empire of Kyle Richmond in order to gain access to his computer base, and thus gain entry into the Avenger’s Network, and that of the Fantastic Four to gather the information exactly needed to find the inert Vibranium long abandoned, as well as other security measures that enabled her to get into Roxxon and Brand as well as SHIELD itself. The self-proclaimed heroes of the world were far too arrogant in their own defences- they always had been- and once Richmond’s corporation fell to Shaw the information came to her as easily as drawing breath.
And everything fell into place, the long and intricate dream finally growing into reality a bit at a time, day by day. Now her goal was at last in sight, glistening as the mound of Vibranium grew. The New World was seconds away, heartbeats…
She was actually nervous with anticipation, excitement. She was sweating, breathing hard. She turned towards the AIM technician monitoring the power flow of the teleportation apparatus, licking her lips as she saw the dial turning red-
“How long,” she hissed, impatient.
“Ninety six percent and climbing,” he answered, his eyes never leaving the gauge. Viper sighed, tried to control her anxiety-
She turned at the explosion of gunfire, her green eyes closing to dark slits as she quickly scanned the compound for the source of the interruption. She had lost contact with the roving teams, both the Brute Brood and the Serpents, but she had not expected them to win, simply delay. She knew the heroes would come eventually, and in actuality she had hoped for it. It was her moment of glory after all, and what better than to flaunt it in the faces of Fury and Logan and-
“The Black Widow…”
The woman was grace and skill personified, even Viper would admit. The Widow had easily cleared the outer fence, placed and electrified against dinosaurs more than anything, but she had hit the beach running and now dodged and weaved her way closer dropping any that got in her way. The agents and mercenaries of course did not stand a chance, but their sheer numbers were only meant to be a slowing factor in the end. Viper allowed herself a longing smile as she watched the Black Widow, allowing her old foe her own final moment of glory.
“How long?” she asked again, shouting over the gunfire as she turned. She barely heard the technician’s reply as something overhead caught her attention. Coming from the other direction she saw a man wearing some type of cape floating over the fence. She did not recognize the man- he was handsome and well built so no doubt some hero. Moon Knight by the cloak, not that it mattered as her attention was quickly diverted to his partner.
A blonde woman dropped to the sand at the perimeter’s edge. She was dressed in a SHIELD uniform, carrying a standard Needler. She, Viper recognized-
“Carter…”
All the better. If Captain America was dead, she would have his bitch. Perfect…
If Viper were truly the villain that they all thought she was, she would have waited, watching, perhaps joining the battle to defeat her foes. Then she would gloat and brag over how her schemes would soon become reality, how she would conquer the world and slay them all. If she were a villain…
Viper was a an idealist however, a dreamer perhaps, maybe. She did not want to conquer the world, she wished to change it. She did not want to gloat or brag of her accomplishments- well, maybe a bit- but it was the dream that mattered in the end. That the heroes had made it this far, and two of her most hated foes at that, it meant that they knew what was happening. What was about to happen. No reason to beat a dead horse.
Viper smiled and turned, her leather-gloved hand reaching for the upraised podium that held a small box and a large, red button. She could hear the AIM technician screaming over the gunfire, but she ignored him captivated by the moment. She heard Voelker whimpering, felt Shaw at her feet.
She pressed the button and laughed-
Finally…
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier- Excelsior,
The Eternity Mountain Range,
Antarctica:
“Power surge, Colonel!”
Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury, Director of SHIELD glanced at the monitor board aglow with a wash of red as all readings peaked. The young agent manning the board looked sickly and pale in the glow, sweating and licking his lips. His eyes were huge.
He was right however.
They had lost.
He could hear the storm still raging outside the control tower, lightning glaring even through the photosensitive screens, the perpetual rumble of thunder and howl of the wind. He ignored it, the roar of the storm, the sudden flurry of activity on the bridge as he tried to think, weighing his options. Hesitating…
They had lost contact with the strike teams long ago now. No word from Carter or Logan, and even Dum Dum stationed outside the Savage Land at Echo Point Relay. The storm and the strange properties of the Savage Land had left him blind, deaf and dumb. Even the snatches that the ESP-er Unit had caught were useless; anger and pain, nothing coherent. It was all on him now. He had to decide.
He had his orders…
He touched the intercom. “Weapons Room…” he said reluctantly. He sensed Val behind him, felt her soft touch on his back trying to comfort him, to make it easier. It just made it all the worse knowing she was there.
“Sellers!” he snapped, finally, his voice sounding confidant and commanding. “Drop ‘em! Authority Eagle one- oh- oh- one- one!”
“Confirmed!” the staticky voice squawked from the intercom before it went dead. No turning back now.
“Oh, Nick…”
Fury sighed as he pulled his Zippo from his pocket and relit his cigar. His hands were shaking he noted- it took a moment. He pocketed the lighter and turned, trying to smile but failing. He saw tears in the Contessa’s eyes as she drew near, pulling him close.
“Withdraw, Sitwell. Up and out, and pick up Storm on the way.”
He did not hear Jasper Sitwell’s response as his lieutenant started giving orders to the bridge crew. He was watching the confirmation light on the console, waiting…
GREEN
The missiles were away.
“God help us all…”
To be Concluded…
Next issue: Well, Jeez, will there even BE a next issue? Either Viper will destroy the world or else Fury will save it by destroying the Savage Land in a nuclear blaze. But wait! What happened to Ant Man? Will Scott Lang save the day? I doubt it, but stranger things have happened. Be here and find out in…
Don’t Tread on Me!
Hopefully I’ll think up a better title before then.
Story © Curt F 2005