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FEB 09 |
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“Hot Time in the City” Part One
Six Months Ago
“You want what?” The voice from the other side of the monitor screen was incredulous and bored in equal measure. Not allowing for the man who contacted him to continue, Namor the Sub-Mariner, Prince of Atlantis continued to speak, “Better yet, why should I care?”
“I’ll take care of that Attuma problem of yours in Canada.”
“pfft,” Namor said, shrugging. “If I was so concerned about that I’d deal with it myself.”
“You would if you felt like making an international incident and starting World War 3 against the entire world. Things with the Arabs aren’t going so well, despite our obvious superiority, fucking savages, and the rest of the world’s scared to attack a religion. But,” the speaker said, smiling gleefully, “attacking another race is a well-established faucet of humanity even the dirt humpers could get behind.”
“What…did you just disparage against my people, Agent?” Namor asked, leaning in menacingly.
“Ah, don’t get your scales in a bunch, I’m only making a point,” USAgent said, raising his hands. “You can’t go after Attuma’s group because he’s gotten a radical arm of the Canadian government to give him a quasi-legal right to be where he is and if you violate Canadian authority, even this group, then you risk pissing off the Canadian and their allies, including the U.S. of A., the Brits, and so forth. That’d get the Avengers involved, Alpha Flight, you name it; hell, the frig’n mutants would probably get into it too.”
Namor was silent for a moment then he laughed. “But YOU can?”
USAgent shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve got a few friends on both sides of the border, some favors to call in at the CIA, Department H and the like. I can get to him and his guys and…take care of the problem. For a price.”
“I can handle T’Challa and get what you want,” Namor said dismissively. “But I want proof.” He intertwined his fingers and leaned back on his throne. “I want Attuma…alive. The rest I am less concerned about. Do this for me and I’ll do what you want.”
Jack Daniels smiled. “Agreed.”
Today
“Welcome to Hydrobase, USAgent,” Dr. Walter Newell said as he came out to the helipad to meet the Avenger as he stepped onto the deck. “Well, Hydrobase Two, actually, since the Avengers destroyed the original.”
“Yeah, shit usually blows up when those dumbasses get involved in something,” he said as he shook Dr. Newell’s hand. “Sometimes tragically,” he added, shaking his head. “Feel bad for Simon, though; he was a cool guy.”
“They all were,” Walter said, sharing a moment of sadness for their former teammates who had died in the recent explosion of the New York mansion. “So, making deals with Namor, are you? Dangerous business, trust me, I know.”
“Ah, from what I read Stingray always did pretty good against fish-for-kin,” Jack said, smiling.
“Long time ago, my friend,” Dr. Newell said, laughing. “Good times though. If Diane wouldn’t skin me alive I might get back in the game.” The middle-aged African American man smiled suddenly as he looked past USAgent at the Pacific Ocean. “Well, that’s a twist.”
USAgent turned and it took all of his considerable years of military training to keep his jaw from plopping to the deck. Flying out of the sun was the most gorgeous woman he’d seen in possibly his entire life, but certainly since things with him and Julia had hit the skids. She wasn’t overly tall but had smooth legs that rose up to make an ass outta themselves, and a pair of cans you just wanted to climb up on and take a nap. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that cascaded down her back, which was only covered by the green scale two-piece bathing suit that made a micro-mini thong look like a moo-moo, dripping water seductively down her well-muscled torso and legs.
“Nita!” Walter said as he rushed over to Atlantean Princess he’d known since she was little.
“Uncle Walter!” Namoria Prentiss said as she threw her hands around the older man and lifted him off the deck, mashing his head into heaven. Jack considered lining up for his turn on the tit-a-whirl but knew the woman could break him in half if she wished.
Besides, his attention was riveted on the waterproof carrying bag she had casually slung over her shoulder. He stepped forward and cleared his throat as a way to interrupt the high-pitched almost girlish way she and Walter were talking, but it took three attempts for them to notice him. His hound-dog look must have struck Namorita as funny because she threw her head back and laughed, her damp pointed ears catching the sunlight and sparkling like her eyes for a second in an intoxicating glow.
“My cousin said you had an almost pathological need for this,” Namorita said as she slowly, almost mockingly, pulled the package from her shoulder and held it out to him. “He said Captain America at least had the dignity not to drool.”
“The drool wasn’t ‘cause of this,” Jack said under his breath as he opened the secure flap and reached a hand into the satchel and time seemed to stop. He caressed the cool metal for a moment as electricity seemed to race up his arm and his heart began to pound. His breath catching he clutched the edge of the shield and pulled it free and he damned near burst into tears.
In his hands, restored to its former glory, was HIS shield. The colored circles of black, white and red paint glistened in the bright sunlight and Namorita’s beauty paled in comparison in his eyes. He felt the weight of the shield and it was perfect. He dropped the bag and slid his hands into the straps on the back and he felt whole for the first time since he’d thrown the formerly shattered shield into the ocean when the Whackos had been disbanded.
He didn’t realize he was laughing until he felt Walter’s hand on his arm. “Are you ok, Agent?”
Smiling a completely heartfelt smile, Jack said, “Oh yeah. Namorita, please tell Namor I owe him one.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Namorita said, waving him off. “He lied to you about the Black Panther before; T’Challa owed him a favor and you bringing him Attuma more than made this worth his while. Besides, he won’t admit it but the Avengers means something to him. Even you, it seems.”
“Well, that’s…”
The rest of USAgent’s comment was washed away when the radio in Hydrobase’s helicopter suddenly crackled to life. “This just in: a massive explosion has occurred off the coast of Los Angeles. Fire is raging along the docks and reports of ‘men of fire’ are coming in by the dozens. Casualties are unknown at this time…”
“You can fly, right?” USAgent said as he turned back to Namorita. “Tough like Namor, super-hero experience?” Namorita nodded and reached for him even as Jack turned back to Dr. Newell. “Better dust off the Stingray suit, Doc. We might need all the help we can get.”
One Day Ago
Sersi was sex poured into a female body.
As an Eternal she didn’t age or have any physical imperfections, obviously, but it was more than a pretty picture that could move the hearts of men…and women. Her every move was sultry, her lips just perfectly pouty, her eyes shaded and full of humor. Her hair flowed down her bare back and across her bare chest and played peak-a-boo with her almost always erect nipples and smooth porcelain skin flowed down the rest of her hairless, supple body.
In his centuries of life, Hercules had never seen a woman to match her, despite his extensive research, and the fact that she was standing in front of him completely naked with her hands on her hips telling him to leave was of incredible annoyance to him. They’d been rutting like mutts in heat for more than a week and he was just beginning to ‘hit the mark’ as Hawkeye used to say regularly so this entire situation was too much for him without more mead. He reached across his over-muscled and overly hairy torso with his left hand and grasped the large stein on the dresser and took an enormous draught, burping loudly.
“What foolishness is this, Sersi,” Hercules said, laying back and tossing aside the sheet that had covered him. “Surely thou canst be serious,” he amended with a wave of his hand.
He might as well have told Sersi she would live forever for all that she was impressed. “You’ve got five minutes to be gone, Herakles, or I’ll turn my transmutational power upon your ‘World Serpent’ as you call it. It’ll have a much shorter nickname when I’m finished with it.”
“Fine!” Hercules said as he hurled his cup across the room and through two walls of Sersi’s expansive set of hotel rooms. He sprang to his feet and gathered up his discarded warrior garb and dressed quickly, grousing the entire time. He plucked the super-sized bottle of mead from the ice bucket by the bed as he stomped out of the bedroom but he paused halfway out the door and turned, laying his most charming smile on Sersi. “If yon itch should happen to return…”
Sersi just sighed and raised her right hand and began pointing in his direction and Hercules wasted no time bolting from the room and toward the elevator. The sight of the Lion of Olympus dashing for his girth made her chuckle, but as she pulled a sheer robe around her shoulders she walked to a box on her dresser and opened it, gazing at the object nestled carefully inside. “Soon,” she said to herself.
Two Hours Ago
Elvin Haliday stared at the bottle sitting before him and licked his lips. He’d ordered the beer after having psyched himself up and walking into the bar with more confidence than he’d had out on the street. He’d long wondered about what this moment would be like and he tried to keep his conscious from telling him he was doing something wrong as he reached out and picked up the cold bottle and raised it toward his lips.
“Just what are you doing, youngling?!” asked a loud voice from the other side of the bar and Elvin’s hand froze with the neck of the bottle just inches from his lips. He turned his head and felt his heart sink as he lowered the bottle back to the bar as the figure stood, his stool flying back and nearly bowling a half-dozen people over as he careened through the bar. Slightly weaving, Hercules made his way around the bar with a huge mug of some dark ale and came to a stop next to Elvin’s side, his eyes narrowed. “Rage, my Avenging comrade, that is thou, is it not?”
Stunned that Hercules remembered him, Elvin struggled to swallow the lump in his throat and said, “Yes, sir.” He wiped his dark forehead with his hand and smiled his most innocent smile at the god. “My name is Elvin, though.”
“Rage, yes, I thought it was you,” Hercules said as he slugged back his entire mug in one pull and apparently ignoring Elvin’s reply. “I was beginning to wonder if only homosexuals came to bars in this town.”
“Uh, sir, I don’t think you should call them that,” Elvin said, trying to keep his voice down.
This only caused Hercules to chuckle. “Yes, I suppose racial slurs, if that really applies, would be of bad taste for an African. I tell you, child, this modern world will never make sense to me. Things were much simpler in the old days.” Hercules paused then and seemed to consider something for a moment. “Or…could it be you are a homosexual, boy?”
“NO!” Elvin said, his mind blown from the blatant and multiple politically incorrect statements flowing from Hercules in public. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong…”
“I didn’t think so,” Hercules said as he slammed down his mug on the bar. “Bar wench,” he bellowed for the woman behind the bar, who Elvin could see clench her teeth in frustration, “bring me another ale.” He looked down at the bottle of light beer sitting in front of Elvin, untouched, and he looked at the young man who beneath his 30-ish year old exterior was actually only a 16-year-old kid. “Are you drinking...that?”
“I…” Elvin began before Hercules grabbed the bottle and flicked it over his shoulder in disgust.
“Bar wench! Two ales!”
Half an Hour Ago
Jacqueline Cricton was bored spitless and so sick of running she could die.
She came to a stop on the dock behind the gazebo behind her mansion and picked up the glass of wine from the banister where she’d placed it before beginning her run fifteen minutes ago. She hadn’t really worked up much of a thirst, really…she’d only run 500 miles at hadn’t really put any effort into it. Hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“Bullocks,” she whispered to herself as she leaned against the railing overlooking her lake and rubbed her face. “Wonder what Joey’s doing? Probably…”
The pain crushed through her head with the suddenness of a gunshot and she cried out as her legs folded beneath her and she gasped. It didn’t last, however, because the pain was washed away by recognition and she closed her eyes and concentrated past the agony and looked for the tendril of recognition. Jim?! she thought.
A few years ago, Jacqueline was over 70 years old and dying but a blood transfusion from an old friend and teammate, Jim Hammond the Original Human Torch, had not only saved her life but revitalized her mutated biochemistry and restored her youth and super-speed. But the blood of an android had done more than that; it had formed a mental link between them that had made them fall madly in love for a while, but it faded over time and they’d parted ways a year or so after on good terms. She’d gone around the world with Namorita for a time before moving back home to England and he’d gone off on his own. She hadn’t even thought about him in many months.
Now his pain raced through her body even though he did not speak to her. She felt fire and agony and smelled horrible scents of burning and destruction. She called for him in her mind over and over and the images she could pick up, apparently from his eyes, shifted and suddenly water was racing up toward her and in that moment, just before he hit the water’s surface, the reflection of his eyes met hers and a flash of knowledge passed between them like a slap.
The connection shattered as Jim Hammond slammed into the water and Jacqueline leapt to her feet and raced for her house and into her closet and within seconds she was wearing the costume that had made her famous and special in her youth, the yellow and red of the Spitfire, which was set off by the stark white of her hair and her crisp blue eyes. She did not pause to admire her expression as she left her land in the blink of an eye and turned toward far off America and the ocean that lay between her and one of her oldest and dearest friends.
Now
Two hours later Rage was really concerned his vision was permanently damaged because he’d been talking to three Hercules’ for the last 15 minutes or so. He’d excused himself and as carefully as possible made his way through the bar to the restroom and after finishing was leaning on the sink splashing water into his face when a shockwave of heat and sound slammed him into and through the single stall and adrenalin flooded his system and washed away the haze.
Lifting himself out of the shattered remains of the bar, Elvin let his emotions flow from his body like water off a duck’s back and Rage stepped forward to where Hercules was kneeling over the broken body of the female bartender who he’d been attempting to charm for the last hour.
“Fair maiden,” Hercules said in a soft, caring voice. “I shall avenge thee.” He then stood from her still body and slowly turned in place until he zeroed in on the source of the devastation that surrounded them and he began to walk toward the docks one block over. He stepped carefully, avoiding the dozens of dead bodies laying amidst the rubble before him, but he did not slow and Rage kept pace with him, his eyes not straying to the bodies below.
They moved past the last remaining wall blocking their view of the docks and stopped to take in the sight. Emerging from the water on both sides of a shattered and ruptured oil tanker, obviously the source of the explosion that had destroyed the surrounding buildings in an increasing arc from its berth, were man-shaped bodies of fire. Where the ocean water poured off of them they smoldered and sizzled, and where they stepped on the docks flames burst from wood or metal scorched and melted. Their faces were blank, almost soulless, with only the barest impressions of eyes and mouths visible behind the waves of heat they emitted, which caused even the mostly invulnerable Rage to recoil. “What are they?” he asked, wishing he had his battle gear with him, especially his helmet.
“Lava Men,” Hercules said, his barely restrained rage bursting forth like a dammed river as he charged forward raising his mace over his head. “Have at thee, murderers!”
Flying in from Hydrobase held under Namorita’s arm like a baby would have counted as the best moment of USAgent’s day if he couldn’t see the fires raging along the docks. His eyes narrowed as he saw the red shapes emerging from the steaming and roiling oceans and he quickly sifted through his memory of the Avengers files he’d studied every chance he got. “Lava Men,” he said, then turned to take in Namorita’s body, which caused her to give him a deadly look. “Easy, Tuna,” Jack quickly said, raising his free hand in surrender. “No time for sweet, sweet romance. I’m just realizing that I won’t last long against Lava Men but the heat they’re generating nearly killed Namor on a couple occasions, and no offense but you wear less clothing than he does and don’t have his 75-80 years of seasoning.”
“That…would be a problem,” Namorita said, rising into the sky to get a better look. “I can attempt to drag them back into the ocean which would keep replenishing my abilities, but if they were strong enough to tussle with Namor I couldn’t take more than a couple at a time then.” She turned her head to look at USAgent. “What will you do other than burn to death?”
USAgent smiled as he pulled a slim object from one of his belt pouches. “Call in the Calvary.” He typed in the emergency alert and lifted the card to his mouth.
“…gent to any Avengers or reserves in the Los Angeles or California area! This is a Priority Alert! Lava Men are emerging from the ocean and attacking a dock and have caused a massive explosion that has caused severe property damage and undoubtedly casualties. Early responders include myself, Namorita of Atlantis and Stingray, but we need…”
The signal paused and only the wind could be heard ripping through the microphone before the USAgent’s voice returned. “Holy shit, is that Hercules! Hell yeah! Anyway, we’re moving to engage along with Hercules and some black guy, but more assistance is needed. Please respond…unless you’re from the East Coast. You guys stay away, we’ve got enough problems.”
[I see the Agent has not grown up any in the last few years.] The voice was sarcastic and cynical, but the face that spoke them was cold and emotionless.
“Cut him some slack, PLATO, he was raised in a barn…literally.” This voice was almost as emotionless as PLATO’s face but his features were a mask of effort and concentration. James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes flipped the welding mask back from his face and surveyed his armor…one built with his own hands. “How close is this paperweight from completion?”
[War Machine Mark III armor is just over 87% complete, with upgrades to several redundant systems remaining as well as much of the wiring for the more complex weapons systems, including the pulse bolts, laser cutter and uni-beam emitter. The…]
“What’s the status of life support, ablative armor, repulsors and boot jets?” Rhodey said as he punched in a code to a linked computer padd in his hand that cycled open the back of the suit with a hiss. He turned and began removing his overalls and donning a bio-sheath bodysuit.
[Those systems are complete, though largely untested,] PLATO replied. [I must say this is a terribly emotional idea.]
“Just human, really,” Rhodey said as he slid into the cockpit and took a second to enjoy the feeling. “Or a soldier. Status of conventional weapons?”
[Ammunition stores for chain gun, rocket launcher, Vulcan cannon and grenade launcher are full, and retractable hand-to-hand combat options are primed. I suppose I should say good luck, but I estimate a 69% chance you’re going to die.]
“One of my favorite numbers,” War Machine said as his helmet snapped into place and his systems cycled to full power and he triggered the hatch above his head to open. He punched in his boot jets and blasted from The Works and angled into the California sky.
“Attention USAgent and all Avengers responding, this is War Machine. I am locked-and-loaded and going supersonic. I will engage in 25 seconds.”
“Avengers Assemble!”
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To Be Continued...
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