Alpha Flight

Medical Bay
Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

Standing tall as she overlooked the ongoing neurosurgery of Walter Langowski, one of Canada’s greatest heroes, she felt as if a legend was dying. The Battle at Banff had knocked the feral superhero unconscious and finally released him from his monstrous form. What lay before her was a man. His musculature seemed to be tense, and it mimicked the very situation in which he now found himself.

Heather McNeil Hudson’s role in Department H had changed considerably since her earlier time living in the base. Not so long ago she had been a hero like the others, she had been a powerhouse within Alpha Flight and she had led them as Vindicator, but that part of her life was over. Her husband may have been happy to return to that part of their former lives but now, especially upon the reflection that Walter’s condition had given her, she was certain more than ever that she was better suited behind closed doors.

Vindicator was dead.

Heather had rebuilt her life before and she would do it again. She had been doing so before the Canadian government came to them, tugging at her husband’s patriotic heartstrings. Heather wasn’t a patriot; the Canadian flag had done little to protect her in the past and she cared little for its safety, but she cared for James. That was the reason she was still in employment with Department H.

Catching the cough in her throat, she clasped her hands around the cold railings of the balcony. The neurosurgery was incredibly intrusive and it worried her to think that even if it were to permanently free Walter from his monstrous prison, would he be the same man that they had always known and loved, both as a colleague and as something more. Heather’s thoughts weren’t clear; she was the brains behind the Alpha Flight initiative but there were no concerns for them to get involved, her mind had then wandered to Walter.

In the back of her mind she could still see the clones. She had informed nobody, the timing wasn’t right as Shaman and Snowbird had just been murdered, but Heather couldn’t forget the horrific scene she had endured. It reminded her of the climax of one of those sinister horror movies.

Eerie green lighting and the fear of disaster plagued her dreams but Heather would not let it consume her. When the timing was right she would deal with the looming threat of the clones; until then she would lie. They held no leverage over her as the time stood. Man Bot would do as she ordered him, and she had ordered him to watch over them and keep them hidden from the others.

The younger Alphans, or as she referred to them the Betans, were a curious group who had taken to ‘exploring’ the base and that worried her. Especially since Jared Corbo’s idea of exploring was very closely tied to that of looting.

Exhaling she let her green eyes fall over the near-corpse; at any moment Walter could be moments from death. The surgery was experimental and untested, and Jeanne-Marie Beaubier had created a fuss but Heather had contained her. As he flat lined, she watched the medics and doctors scramble around him before they manage to stabilise him once again.

Unable to take anymore of the surprises, Heather turned on her heel and exited the large room.

A New World Administration, Part Two:
“Feral”

By Gavin John McMahon

Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

Shutting the cold metallic door behind her, Heather pressed her back against the hard wall of the hallway. Her breathing was heavy, her hair was messily pulled back from her face and she wore a coffee stained laboratory coat. There had been some theories from the team and from the others working at the base concerning why she would be so concerned in his safety. Heather had shrugged them off; idle gossip had followed her for as long as she could remember.

That was clear with the muttering of single-syllable word. “Puck.”

Not only had Heather rebuilt her life, she had watched it fall apart. Although she chose not to focus on those finer details, they held to much pain.

“Heather?”

Turning her emerald eyes to see the face of her husband, James MacDonald Hudson, Heather felt uneasy. Rage and sorrow fought to overwhelm her; she had never experienced such a contrast of emotions. Arrogance to the disaster of their relationship had ended when he had chose heroism over her; for the first time Heather could see clearly the cracks in the foundations of her marriage.

“Heather?” Mac repeated himself; he wore his Guardian suit without the mask.

Looking with disgust at her husband, Heather replied. “Mac, now...it isn’t the time.”

Spinning on the spot, the light patter of her heels commenced shortly afterwards as she made to walk away from the man who had always been her everything. Strands of red hair fell around her fine features, she had to be stronger than she thought she could be but she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Don’t do this. This is nothing we can’t work out,” he called after her. “I love you.”

She came to a stop, standing frozen.

“Love?” she whispered before she raised her voice. “You’re going to talk to me about love, James? This is love.” Heather found herself screaming; the gates had opened and everything was flooding out. “I’m here. I’m still here, and I’m always waiting. I always come second to these bloody heroics, I watch you rush to the frontline with every mission and I never know if I’m going to wake up in the morning as a widow.”

Mac stood in shock, his shoulders slumped and his eyes full of heart.

“You know nothing of love,” she told him as she caught her breath. “And you know nothing of sacrifice.”

The doors to the medical bay opened as a doctor rushed out and met the eyes of the pair. He cleared his throat as she spoke to them. “We’re losing him.”

Alphan Lounge
Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

Loneliness was all she felt.

Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, the superheroine better known as Aurora, stared into the harsh flame of the lit fire, her hand resting on the mantelpiece. Her tears ran down her face, she cared little for the destruction her emotions wrought on her make-up. Running mascara was the least of her worries when the man she loved was slowly dying, and she had fought with Heather mere hours before concerning the risky procedure.

If he died, Heather would never be forgiven. Jeanne-Marie tried to control her, her tears from her face into the tongue of the flames beneath her. She felt little but abandonment and fear.

For as long as she could remember, Jeanne-Marie had been running. She was forever running at the slightest sign of emotional turmoil. There was no fear felt when she was the first to rush into battle, she would take the brunt of the force to protect those she cared for, but she couldn’t deal with the matters of the heart. Her strict Roman Catholic upbringing had left her incapable of understanding such matters.

Using her free hand to push a strand of raven black hair behind her ear, the heat from the heart washed over her. Stepping back slightly she looked at the collection of books to her left. They were worn; Walter had always been a bit of a bookworm and she could clearly remember as she sat on the arm of the lounge chairs, his husky scent filling her nostrils as he read Tolstoy’s War and Peace out loud to her.

Not that reading had interested her, but she had been soothed by the sound his voice time and time again.

Rubbing her hand against the arm and back of the plain red leather chair she tried to smell him, she tried to gain some more memories as she looked at the titles of the books. She looked over the titles, again and again but she received nothing. Her eyes glinted as she lashed out, clasping the binds of the books and pushing them from their case to the carpeted floor. She screamed as she did so, and her breathing became heavy and uncontrolled.

It felt like the stress was tearing her apart, she didn’t know who she was. For so long she had maintained her control concerning her dissociative identity disorder, which she had suffered from most of her life, but now she felt as if the lines were blurred. As if Aurora would intrude on her life at any moment to wreak more havoc, to create hell on earth.

Walter slipped into the back of her mind for but a moment as she pondered whether she wanted to contain Aurora any longer. Aurora would have been more capable to cope with losing Snowbird and Shaman, she would have stayed strong through the heartache with Sasquatch and she would have accepted Northstar because he was her brother and she loved him. She was free willed and optimistic, if not a little violent when necessity called, more violent than she could ever have been.

Jeanne-Marie had done little but screw up.

“It’s hard to lose the man you love, sweetie,” replied a soothing voice. “I should know.”

Looking over her shoulder, she was shocked at the sight of Lillian Crawley, the Diamond Lil.

Yukon Plains
Near the Richardson Mountains
Yukon, Canada

The Alpha Quinjet came to a stop as it landed on the plains.

Heather was the first to disembark from the jet; she had a specific reason in coming to this area of Canada. She was searching for a First Nation man who she thought could help her. As she marched forward her hair fluttered around her face in the strong wind of the exposed ground. She panted slightly as she rushed to the edge of a hill, her eyes flowing around the downward lands surrounding her.

“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Heather turned to face him, but she didn’t see him. She saw a hindrance, something standing in her way of saving a life. She was on the very edge of her sanity, and it was clawing away at her. Brushing her fingers through her hair, Heather sighed.

“Shaman said he would be here. He was researching him as a potential recruit,” Heather called back to her husband before rushing forward another few steps, doing so frantically. “This was his last noted location.”

“Those files where weeks old before his death.”

“We have to find him James!” she screeched, her breathing skipped as she fell to her knees.

Mac rushed from the platform to gather his wife in his arms; she was hot and almost feverish with sweat on her brow. He looked at her with love, and he sought to protect her but she was stubborn and determined to save Walter. Mac was not sure that Walter could be saved, but he couldn’t tell the others how he felt without destroying the team at the core.

He tried to soothe her as she looked at him with panicked eyes.

“We have one more chance,” she whispered.

Her eyes darted upwards and in the glare of the sunlight she noticed a figure walking towards them.

“I am telling you what I told Michael Twoyoungmen,” spoke the figure. “My answer is no.”

Mac lifted his wife to her feet and Heather struggled to see him through the bright lights, but she could make out some of the basic as he approached them. The man was definitely of the First Nation, and his hair was dark and dreadlocked. She was shocked to see that even in the cold wind he wore only a loincloth. She shielded her eyes as he pulled his weapons from their sheaths.

“Please,” she begged of him while walking from Mac’s grip. “We need your help.”

The lights surrounding him dimmed and she noticed the light had not been sunlight but the man’s own creation. It was clear in his eyes that he was surveying her. Heather knew she looked like a damsel in distress. She was aware that she looked desperate but she couldn’t care and didn’t care. She was desperate for a result.

Canteen
Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

Pushing the bowl away from him, he felt physically sick. Food could never taste as grotesque as when it came from a military base. There was nothing keeping him with Alpha Flight except his need to feel as if he was doing some good in the world. Jean-Paul Beaubier was not entirely the arrogant businessman he had been portrayed as in the media during prior stints on the team.

After what had happened with his sister, Jeanne-Marie, and his own injuries over the last two missions, he had needed to escape from the prying eyes of the other superheroes within Department H. He was surrounded by the ordinary militia in employment within the facility.

“Watch your back Adrian.”

Jean-Paul had never thought one voice would be able to bring such a surge of anger to the surface as the voice of Jared Corbo did; he had no need to even turn around to face the impetuous young hero. Jean-Paul and Jared had failed to connect as the other heroes had; there was a rivalry amongst them due Jared’s exterior bigotry.

“Must you do this every time?” Adrian Corbo, the younger of the two, responded.

Jean-Paul attempted to ignore the riotous Betans that sat behind him, but he could feel their eyes on him. In frustration, he plucked at the rims of his gloved hands to avoid turning his attention to them.

“We all know how those faeries like to work though.”

In an instant, Jean-Paul burst upwards and towards the seated boy.

Jared sat facing him, his back and elbows’ leaning against the table, and his smirk was from ear to ear. He delighted in torturing those around him. Arlette Truffaut sat at the other side of the table; she glared at both of her team-mates, her upper lip tightening with the pain of her injuries.

Adrian rose to his feet. “Mr. Beaubier, he didn’t mean what he said...”

“Shut up Adrian,” ordered Jared, also moving to his feet whilst pushing Adrian into a chair. “I meant every word.”

The two men squared off against one another.

Jean-Paul was almost a head taller than his younger comrade and his body was more athletically built in its musculature. Jared wasn’t the scrawniest of men but his ever-present force field had never given him much need for self-defence as no-one could make contact with him. Jean-Paul recognised this and he cocked his eyebrows. He was a senior hero and an active member of Alpha Flight; it was his job to diffuse the situation.

Jared stared at him with a smug look that riled him.

“Fuck it.” Jean-Paul used his superhuman speed to rush the boy.

The two men collided with the wall.

Medical Bay
Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

“That’s it sweetheart,” soothed the older of the women. “Let it out.”

Lillian Crawley had suffered heartbreak; she had known the pain of losing the man you love. Madison Jeffries was MIA once again; she could only hope that they would be reunited and that she wouldn’t have to bury him when they were. She had heard of the reintroduction of Alpha Flight, and she had returned to ask for their help but that seemed like a distant memory. She knew there was a reason she had been called to Department H.

The older woman rubbed the beautiful dark haired woman’s back as she sobbed over the catatonic body of Walter Langowski; neither of them noticed Heather and her guest entering the laboratory.

“Lil,” she greeted her old colleague and former enemy. “Pity you couldn’t come under better circumstances.”

“When where Alpha Flight circumstances ever good, doll,” replied the former criminal.

Heather brushed between the two, ignoring the hatred in Jeanne-Marie’s eyes as she led the First Nation man to the forefront. He was unlike Shaman who had never looked like such a wild man. Lillian couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be untamed and uneasy in his situation as if he had been caged.

Reaching out the man placed his large hands around Walter’s head.

“Je suis desolée,” snapped Jeanne-Marie as she pushed his hands away. “Who the fuck do you think you are and what are you doing?”

“Aurora,” warned Heather, her voice barely more than a growl.

“I deserve to know what’s going on,” yelled Jeanne-Marie, her throaty and husky voice verging on hysteria.

Lillian grabbed the French-Canadian by the arm, giving the girl a warning gaze.

“His name is Yukon Jack, well that’s his alias anyway, and he’s going to help. Medicine wasn’t working, so I can only hope magic will,” Heather explained, directing Jack’s hands back to Walter’s head.

Yukon Jack began to murmur, it was in a language the three women were unfamiliar with but they found it both enchanting and poetic. Jeanne-Marie’s tears subsided as they watched in awe, the First Nation man’s hands exploded with a violent blast of white light energy. They shielded their eyes from the light, but Jeanne-Marie continued to watch with anxiety.

Jeanne-Marie screamed as Walter’s body lurched forward, widening his eyes and ripping the wires from his body. All three women gathered around him as Yukon Jack moved backwards from their path.

“Walter?” gasped his former lover, Jeanne-Marie.

Canteen
Department H
Ottawa, Ontario
Canada

Jean-Paul’s fists continued to smash against the indestructible force field of Jared. It was a release for the anger that had been trapped inside him from his sister’s betrayal, to his sense of uselessness in the recent field missions. He lost control of himself and he could swear he was trying to kill the junior hero.

Jared released the force field in a blast of energy, propelling his assailant into the air. Jumping to his feet at the first free chance he ran down the clearing between the long Canteen tables. Positioning himself beneath where Jean-Paul hovered, Jared used a blast of energy to propel himself forward into his target, similar to a cannonball.

Colliding in the air, both were knocked to the ground simultaneously.

As they launched again at one another in a fit of rage, a booming voice sounded from behind Arlette and Adrian. All eyes turned to face James MacDonald Hudson, the field leader of Alpha Flight and its prime operative. Dressed in his costume he marched towards the two brawling superheroes, a look of disdain etched onto his face.

“What’s the problem here?” snapped the leader.

“You! You’re the problem,” retorted Jared as he spat in Mac’s face. “You let this fairy onto the team. Normal guys aren’t safe with the likes of him around.”

“I assure you, child, I like men not boys,” growled the French-Canadian venomously.

“Shut it,” snarled Mac at his colleague before turning to Jared. “You’ll follow the orders I give and respect anyone who I tell you to respect. Is that clear?”

Jared stood in silence.

“Or you can find somewhere else to go.”

Adrian was frustrated by the prospect. He would have to follow Jared; he was the younger of the two brothers and he had always needed the guidance and the extra push of Jared. He disagreed with every view Jared had ever spoken off but he was his brother and he cared. It was because they were orphans, there had never been parents to play favourites, they had always been equal until high school. Jared became the asshole and Adrian became the bookworm.

They had found a family with the Alphans and Adrian did not want to lose that.

“He understands,” Adrian told Guardian.

“Finally, ze ruckus ‘as ended,” muttered Arlette, she walked along on a bandaged foot and arm to make her exit.

Dust and rubble exploded in around them, before anyone could comprehend the fight that had just ended. Jean-Paul pushed Adrian to the ground, away from some falling debris. Mac had found himself shielded by the arrogant Jared as the pair darted away from the incoming figures.

It didn’t take long for a sudden realisation to come to mind.

“That’s...the original line-up of Alpha Flight,” said Guardian, his eyes widening at the sight of them, especially Snowbird and Shaman.

Radius pushed forward as his shield protected him from the claws of the villainous Sasquatch, the force of the attack had him crippled and he looked towards Murmur. He decided to play leader, a role he felt he was more than ready for.

“Murmur, take him down!”

Murmur seemed slightly taken aback by the order but she could see the others were rushing into battle behind him. Flex had embraced his armoured form and attacked villainous Shaman as Guardian fought Guardian. In the air above them, Northstar was fielding attacks from both his own doppelganger and Snowbird.

Jumping over one of the tables and landing on her bad foot, she grunted before recollecting herself. Radius expanded his force field as a blast of energy to buy her some extra time but with a scream, they were lost amongst the dust and debris.

Delivering an uppercut to his uncanny lookalike before propelling himself into the chest of the faux Snowbird, Northstar attempted to gain some control or leverage over the situation. Snowbird fell to the ground battle where she transformed into a polar bear, attempting to maul some of the stationary soldiers that opened fire.

Guardian found himself in a battle he had not expected, but he wasn’t untrained for. In a matter of moments, he found himself floored by his villainous counterpart but pushed himself up again, sending a blast of raw energy into the other man’s chest.

Flex punched his way past Shaman and rushed towards his brother, but it wasn’t Radius that caught his eye. He found Murmur lying against the rubble, her throat was exposed and bleeding and her eyes watched him eerily. Backing away from her he was lost...he didn’t know what to do.

Arlette Truffaut, the Murmur, was dead.

To Be Continued...

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