UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Part I: Castling

By Desmond Reddick

Winnipeg

Wild Child was growling and leaping through the air before Nemesis was able to turn the lights off.

When the room went pitch black she shouted her orders: “Witchfire, now!”

At the speed of thought, the members of Omega Flight were gifted with the ability to see the life energies of each other and, most importantly, their enemies.

These men, Weapon PRIME and the mysterious suited spook had been laying in wait for Omega to return to Nemesis’s safe house. They demanded that Tigerstryke be turned over lest they face them in battle. They were being a little naive to think that Omega Flight would be reticent to face anyone in battle.

The life energies of the three men in front of Nemesis were white outlines she had hoped to turn black. She walked briskly towards the man on the left, but she neglected to take caution from a punch he threw from across the room.

The moment the lights went out, Garrison Kane’s vision automatically adjusted to infared as a normal human’s does from light to dark. He saw the mysterious woman known as Nemesis slink towards him with her sword raised and took the element of surprise by shooting his detachable fist into her face.

As Nemesis hit the ground, Flashback attacked Kane as four different versions of himself. He threw a multitude of punches from a multitude of fists, but the man formerly known as Weapon X quiet easily held his own even literally singlehandedly against the far less experienced fighter.

Wild Child’s slashing attacks on Killspree were being fended off for the most part thanks to his long spear and enhanced senses. The savage Omegan was not deterred. He continued to slash and get stabbed himself until a smell grabbed his attention.

BZZZAK!

Electricity crackled and lit the room from behind Omega Flight.

In the white glow, two lithe women held hands. The electricity emanated from their joined hands. But Wild Child knew the smell was coming from outside.

Before he could turn, the house shook as a massive chunk of the wall was torn out. In the opening a large – at least 8 feet tall – white beast stood. Its golden hoop nose ring shuddered as its roar reverberated within the three intact walls of the suburban home.

Wild Child leapt at it, but the beast batted him out of the air. He tumbled out into the cold evening.

“Stop!”

It was Tigerstryke who screamed.

“Look, I’ll go. No one needs to kill anybody.”

Nemesis glared daggers at Kane as she got to her feet.

“You don’t have to do that, Tigerstryke,” Nemesis said, her eyes never leaving Kane’s.

“Yes,” Agent Brown said, “he does, actually. He is still property of the Canadian government and assigned to Weapon PRIME. He comes with me or goes to jail.”

“He’s right,” Tigerstryke added. “Look, I’ll go and straighten this out.”

“Now that your friend has his head on straight, I want to urge the rest of you to take stock.” Agent Brown sternly looked at the members of Omega Flight. “When this war is under way, you should make sure to be on the winning side.”

Omega Flight stood silently. Nemesis thought of a dozen ways she could end the suit’s life before Weapon PRIME could stop her; Witchfire debated opening a portal and shuttling Tigerstryke away to keep him safe; Flashback dissolved his copies and was thankful the fighting was over; Wild Child stood in the yard having heard everything that went on inside, as he felt his broken ribs begin to knit themselves back together.

Brown finished as Weapon PRIME prepared to make their exit: “At least be careful who you’re hanging around.”

Toronto

James MacDonald Hudson couldn’t have been prouder. He has called into question many of the decisions he’d made in his life, but, as he stared out at the crowd of press and public that stood before the steps of Department H’s Toronto headquarters, he knew that this was the right one.

“My fellow Canadians,” he began, “it has been almost two decades since I have began work to safeguard this country from threats international and domestic. Whether it has been as an engineer or as a superhero, I have always considered it my most sacred duty.

“My time with Alpha Flight has been of many mixed emotions. At times, it has cost me my career, my trust in government, my humanity and even my life. But I have never lost my love for the people and the land of Canada.

“I headed up Department H as a young engineer to research and develop ways in which to keep this great land safe and, I have to admit, it got away from me. For the past few years, Department H has been party to the lies and corruption any government agency can be subjected to when it is allowed to grow unchecked and be brought under the influence of those who do not have the best interests of the people they serve in mind.

“Those days are over.”

The light wind disturbing the hair of the onlookers was the only thing betraying the fact that the people before him were really there and not a photograph. They were silent and still, putty in his hands.

“Department H was mine to lose control of. I take ownership of that. And I want to make sure that something like that doesn’t happen again. But I am not taking control of Department H. I’m still in fighting shape and will lead Alpha Flight into battle until it becomes clear that I am physically incapable to.”

One man in the audience shouted a loud “YEAH!” to scattered laughter.

Hudson continued:

“The new director of Department H is another man who has worked to better the lives of Canadians since long before I knew him. He is a friend, a confidante and a brother-in-arms. He is the best choice to be the cool head behind this great country’s administration of superhuman affairs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new director of Department H: Dr. Michael Twoyoungmen!”

The crowd erupted into applause as the tall First Nations man stepped to the podium. Twoyoungmen’s long hair was tamed by a woven headband that sat atop his head. Instead of one of his costumes, Michael wore a pale grey suit, top button open at the collar. He had the appearance of someone in charge without the imposing black-suit spook look the Department had become known for.

“Thank you. I am not one for speeches, so I will keep this short. I have been a doctor, a shaman and a costumed hero in my time. I have tried to follow the teachings of my grandfather to make the world a better place for my country and my people. I have not been perfect. I have failed my wife, my daughter and,” he paused to look behind him, “my friends.”

“But, I have always tried to do good through Alpha Flight. I will continue to do so as administrator of Canada’s Premiere Superhero team. And I will do so in as transparent a manner as possible. After all, we stand on guard for thee, not for those who sit in secrecy. Thank you, I’ll take your questions now.”

Gastown, Vancouver

Nestled between the bustling waterfront area of Vancouver and the Downtown Eastside, what is likely the most downtrodden and drug-addled postal code in the western world, is a little slice of Europe called Gastown. Originally the downtown core of Vancouver, the cobblestone streets and bohemian charm combines to make the historic area the hub of the arts and nightlife. It is the only place in the city where you can buy a piece of interior furnishing for tens of thousands of dollars and walk three steps to get a ninety-nine cent slice of pizza.

It’s also become a haven for criminals seeking an upscale, out of the way home base. Above the Anastasia Tea Room is no exception.

Though the building was well insulated for noise, the armoured man’s olfactory senses were dominated by the sour cabbage scent of solyanka wafting through the walls and up the stairway. But that was how Ivan Pushkin liked it. A piece of home was comforting for even the harshest of individuals. Pushkin had many other pieces of real estate in this country and others, but he enjoyed the small comforts of the neighborhood.

“—and that is all?” the man with the thick Russian accent asked.

“I’ll have them back in two days. Tops,” the armoured man said while shifting in his seat. The suit of gold-colored armor was uncomfortable and cumbersome, but necessary.

“And I get million dollars just for letting you use them? They negotiate their own wage with you?” There was suspicion in Ivan’s voice.

“Yes! Think of it as an honorarium.”

“Mr. Ehm…Brass Bishop, let me put this in way that make things clear between us: if you are fucking me, I will not care for your power in your fancy sit. I will make you learn why they call me Ivan the Terrible.”

Thunder Bay

“I believe Y-O-U,” Ouija said to the girls before him.

“Thanks, Bill.” Laura smiled at Ouija. He was always positive, and team-oriented. She understood him, she thought. He was just another who felt weird and wanted acceptance. It seemed that’s what Gamma had become: a dumping ground for the freaks and geeks who would never make top billing.

Goblyn lay curled up in the corner of the comfy brown couch, her eyes attenuated to slits. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace, warming the common room in the large log mansion. Her sister Laura’s hand was placed gently on her back for comfort.

Since last night, Goblyn had been disturbed by who she encountered in the barn. The woman there was clearly terrified, Laura remembered, but the twins were the only two to see her. One twin being a feral monster and the other an autistic didn’t help their case very much either.

But Laura knew she saw her, and her sister didn’t freak out about things she didn’t see or smell. Something was odd, and until she could prove it to her teammates, she’d be seen as crazy. At least her teammates pretended to believe her.

“Gah! You’re all crazy!” Flex sighed, throwing his hands in the air and storming out of the room past Ghost Girl.

Lilli shot him a glare and walked into the centre of the room, closer to the fire.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just posturing since him and his brother got kicked off the A Team and Flex got double downgraded.”

She smiled.

“In fact, he’s so easy to see through that I almost think my powers are changing!”

The room erupted in laughter. Even Goblyn laughed a raspy animalistic noise.

Department H

The roof of the Department H building was exposed to the cold of the hardening dusk. One man hunched behind the entry door – one of the only architectural disturbances on the flat helipad roof – to escape the chill. Clad in black and deep purple, he stood out set against the light grey of the pavement below his feet.

Kyle Gibney didn’t like it there, but hiding behind the doorway offered the only relief from the cold wind. His lanky blonde hair hung in his face, but even without the wind attacking him, his sense of smell was off at that elevation and level of exposure. He did, however, recognize the humming noise without a second thought.

“Guardian,” he said. It was more of a statement than a greeting.

“Wild Child,” Hudson responded as he hovered down to the rooftop.

The two had a tenuous relationship. Wild Child had been an Alphan for a time, but Hudson was dead for most of it. Dead because Wild Child was a member of a team who killed him. Gibney was also responsible for nearly killing Hudson’s wife. Needless to say, he wasn’t a fan. But he was aware of his usefulness.

“Why didn’t Nemesis come?”

“She was pissed off that we lost Tigerstryke. You wouldn’t want to see her in the mood she’s in.”

“So she sent Mister Sunny Disposition in her stead?”

“You know, for a guy with an old growth redwood up his ass, you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor, Hudson?”

“You gotta laugh, right?”

“Even when you’re wanted dead?”

“They said that I had to die to save the world?”

“Y’know,” Wild Child began, “you don’t seem fazed by that.”

“I’ve heard it before, more or less. From aliens.”

“Ever thought they might be right?”

“Every day.” Guardian stared off at the Toronto skyline for a moment. “Thought about the offer?”

“Sure. Playing games with your pet native, already?”

There was silence for a beat.

“One: talk about Michael like that again and we’ll test how good that healing factor really is. Two: you know as well as I do that there are things that need doing that require…a special set of skills.”

“Omega Flight has those skills?”

“Omega Flight has no problem with killing,” Hudson paused, “as I know firsthand. You’ll do what I tell you and the world is a better place for it. And Michael has plausible deniability.”

“Simple as that, then?”

“Simple as that,” he said turning towards Wild Child.

“Meet the new boss and all that?”

Hudson ignored Wild Child’s comment. “You ready for your first mission?”

“Point and shoot, boss man. Point and shoot.”

NEXT ISSUE: Guardian points and shoots at Zodiac, Brass Bishop and…Hydra?! Come on back to see if he hits them! Or even if he knows who he’s shooting at.