THE WEATHERNAUT

EARTH’S ORBIT

She narrowed her eyes as she observed the readings, the multitude of flashing lights and warnings spread across the control panels ahead of her. As an employee of the Weathernaut, Christine Sonh had been given the unique opportunity of using her meteorology background to study the formation and weather patterns of Earth from amongst the stars. However, this was like nothing she had witnessed during her training. The Korean-American had experienced the trials and tribulations of faults but this was something else entirely. A door wasn’t jammed on one of the observation decks. The entire panel was lit up before her like a Christmas tree.

Looking across her shoulder for a sight of her senior officer, allowing her long raven locks to cascade behind her, Christine was concerned by his absence. Instead, at a loss, she turned to her left and attempted to gain the attention of her colleague. Whilst Christine had the unenviable task of security on this occasion, Tamsin was having a much easier job with onboard living conditions. Tapping the curly-haired blonde on her shoulder, she finally managed to lure her eyes away from her otherwise boring screen. Immediately, once Tamsin had seen the panel before Christine, her jaw dropped.

“What did you do?” she demanded. There was an overwhelming tone of condescension in her voice, despite the fact she had only served on the Weathernaut for three months before Christine’s arrival.

Christine shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything. I was just–”

“This shit doesn’t just happen,” growled Tamsin. “You must have knocked against something or started a programme or–”

“I’m telling you. It wasn’t me,” she was firm in her response. “I think we need to run a full spec. Jim isn’t here to authorise it though. Is there any way that we can override his code and do a full region scan?”

Tamsin grimaced. “Obviously not or there wouldn’t be much need for him and a code now, would there Sonh?” She paused, contemplating options. “We might be able to turn the cameras to the outwards screening. I mean, it’s not a region scan but it should let us know if there’s any immediate threat before we call for him.”

Christine was pushed from the way as Tamsin took pride of place ahead of the control panel.

“This better not be the fucking Shi’ar.”

Christine was more hopeful. “Maybe it’s just an unannounced diplomatic visit. Jim is always forgetting to tell us these sort of things. Remember when the President came just last month? No one even–”

“Shut up, Sonh.”

She did as she was told. Her eyes watched as the cameras systematically changed from a series of identical hallways and observation decks to show the surrounding area, the void of space. It was a sight to behold. Occasionally Christine was so wrapped up in herself and the daily routine she followed that she forgot her life was no longer on the planet of her birth. Instead, she floated in the abyss. It was a beautiful and frightful thought but with a steady, calculating mind, she didn’t allow it to overwhelm her. She was trained for these situations and, within her heart, she still felt optimistic.

It was then that it caught her attention. A camera pointing southwest of the ship. It was hard to make out on the black and white screen.

She screamed as it impacted and then there was nothing filling the chasm of the abyss.

QUEENS, NEW YORK

EARTH

“That’s not good enough, Captain Glitter, is it?” Martha Franklin’s irritation was clear to the blonde before the words had even left her mouth. It had been months since they’d first teamed together and, for better or worse, the duo of superheroines was becoming quite well-acquainted. Martha, the stern and stoic Spider-Woman, was a former prodigy of Spider-Man. Clad in black and white, with her long chestnut hair pulled back into a swaying ponytail. She was imposing to be sure but her partner didn’t seem to be as affected by it as she would have liked.

Julie Power snapped. “It’s Lightspeed. For God’s sake.” Her words left her lips in a low, lazy drawl. It was a remnant of her upbringing in the far west of the Olympic Peninsula. Honey-coloured hair fell freely, draping across the shoulders of a less conspicuous costume of fuchsia and black. No matter what urgency they dealt with, Julie seemed to approach each situation with a careless air of boredom. Heroics was not what she believed to be her destiny but, despite her outward coldness, Julie found she’d stumbled directly into criminal dealings that were now her responsibility to solve.

Regardless of the desires and traumas that fuelled them, and without anywhere else they believed they could turn, Spider-Woman and Lightspeed were bound together. It was a shame to the pair that they hadn’t even allowed their working relationship to breach cordiality, never mind friendship.

An explosion boomed.

“We should check that out.”

“Definitely.”

SOLOMON R. GUGGENHEIM MUSEUM

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“I’m bored. In fact, I might never have been more bored in my life. Why are we here again?” moaned Aiden Gillespie, a rotund redhead with earphones hanging around his neck, obnoxiously as he stared at the art. He was an avid fanboy of many things, possibly a side-effect from his inability to make a life for himself beyond a world of video games and science fiction programmes, but impressionist and post-modernist art had never been high on that list. The more he observed them, with a quickly fading eagerness, Aiden wasn’t sure they would even have made the list.

Cullen, his best friend, was quieter. It could easily be said that he went above and beyond when it came to identifying himself as unpopular. However, he was taller, blonder and more attractive than his cohort. Also, he carried an air of occultism and mystery wherever he went that seemed to attract people to him. It may not have been a personal trait, as a Bloodstone he was from a legacy of magic and intrigue, but he pushed people away so much that Aiden was constantly surprised that they had made a connection. At least, Aiden hoped that was genuine because he had no other options.

“We’re meant to be embracing the culture of artistry,” he replied sullenly. He was quickly growing tired of the field trip and longed to return to Boston. Aiden’s constant complaining wasn’t doing much to enhance his mood. “Supposedly the arts will make us better people.”

“Yo,” said Aiden, chomping madly on his potato chips. “If I’ve learned anything from the Weeping Angels, it’s that all forms of art are more dangerous than you’d even believe.”

Cullen struggled not to roll his eyes. Aiden, ever the Whovian, could slip a reference to his favourite franchise into any conversation. The golden ring, mounted with a Bloodgem, that rested on his right hand was a constant reminder that Cullen required none of that as a form of escapism. His life, since a young age, had been a constant storm of magic and monsters. Elsa had embraced the life their father had intended for them. It seemed to have made her stronger, if more abrasive than even he was, but it had left him cursed in ways that none of them could ever imagined. His father had led to that and then died because he was to inconsiderate to fix the mistakes he had made as a parent.

Elsa had done her best but, unfortunately for the traumatised teenager, her best had been beyond subpar. He now survived on his own, using his wits and the large inheritance of his father. Elsa checked in at the Bloodstone Curios enough for him to feign she was his guardianship. The school accepted it. He remained in Boston where he’d always known. Although, even if he couldn’t readily admit it, Boston was a source of trauma for him. It was a constant reminder of the trials he had endured.

“And, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think this is making me a better person anyway.”

Cullen turned, ruffling Aiden’s knotted mass of red hair, and smiled. “Somehow, buddy, I don’t think you were the intended audience for work like this.”

The museum began to shake and quiver. Cullen’s hand momentarily fell onto Aiden’s shoulder as the fatter youth attempted to maintain a firm grip of his potato chips. It was unusual for earthquakes to happen in New York but, since the dawn of the Age of Heroes, nothing was out of the ordinary anymore. Particularly to someone like Cullen. However, as the roof collapsed in on them, even he began to panic. The blond pushed Aiden hard, sending the Scottish youth crashing into the wall as fragments crashed to the ground of above. As Cullen disappeared, Aiden began to panic.

“Belutacadrus.”

Aiden’s invocation was more than just wordplay. Amidst the rubble and dust, the overweight youth screamed as he outstretched his right hand. Metal and wood burst from his wrist, the mystical Axe of Belutacadrus, and as he clasped his fingers around helm, his body tensed and tightened. He became taller, he would even have towered over the six-foot Cullen, and the roundness of his stomach dissolved. When all was said and done, Aiden was unrecognisable. Standing in his place was, what Cullen had once affectionately referred to as, the Anachronism. It was the mind of Aiden but the body and wrath of a long-forgotten Scottish warrior god.

He slung the axe across his back and began to tear at the rocks in search of Cullen. As he rummaged frantically through the chaos, two women fell from the sky. One was emblazoned with the sigil of the Spider-Man and thus, he could safely presume, one of the many Spider-Women or Spider-Girl’s that swung through the city in search of evil-doers. The other was unfamiliar, statuesque and haughty but somewhat alluring given the rainbow trail that stretched behind her. They landed, observing the confusion with a bemused expression.

“Well, this could be worse.”

The spider hero glared. “It could arguably be better.”

“It could always be better,” the blonde girl continued as she kicked at the dirt.

The spider nodded. “We should get on with it.”

The duo’s eyes rested firmly on Anachronism, his back now turned to them as he used his immense strength to haul a piece of the ceiling out of the way. He found a body but it wasn’t his friend’s. The sense of momentary relief that he felt was quickly followed with a disturbed feeling that he had been unsympathetic to a person’s death. As the girl’s approached him from behind, he turned his head frantically from side to side. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be the end. His life in America had been unlucky enough already.

“I’m feeling generous,” said Spider-Woman as she stood ahead of him, watching Lightspeed slip into position at his rear. “I’m gonna give you an opportunity to explain what the–”

Lightspeed’s eyes widened. “Uh. I’m getting the sinking suspicion he mightn’t be our bad guy.” The former Power Pack member immediately ignited her powers. Rainbows danced in her eyes and began to weave around her finger tips as she fired a concussive blast of energy past Spider-Woman. Ignoring the unhappy expression on her partner’s face.

Spider-Woman spun, removing her attention from the axe-bearing muscle-head and towards the blasts. The brunette’s jaw dropped as a fiery being crawled from a pit, the obvious point of impact, and roared at them. Instinctively, she backflipped and landed beside Lightspeed. The latter of whom reached forward and grabbed Anachronism by the left shoulder. With a little force, he was on his feet and stood between them. His expression was more bewildered and less battle-ready than either of the women.

“You can use that thing, right?” Lightspeed asked as she indicated towards his axe.

He nodded outwardly but internally, he was much more uncertain. This situation was one-hundred miles from the playing around he had done with the mystical object in the basement of Bloodstone Curios. He was almost positive he would die if he faced whatever was crawling from the pit.

“I’m, ugh, new in town though so maybe I should get back to looking for my friend?” he suggested. “You guys have got this right?”

“Look, buddy,” snapped Spider-Woman. “If we don’t deal with this problem first, finding your friend might be the least of your worries.”

“Don’t be a little bitch,” snarled Lightspeed as she blasted forward. Propelling hastily, she lifted her arm to cover her eyes as she crashed into the fiery monster. It bounced backwards as it landed and flames burst upward, around her. She stepped back, narrowly avoiding singeing that threatened to occur. “Feel free to help.”

The words had barely escaped her lips when an explosion knocked her on the ass. The fire monster shot upward, landing with a crash as the flicker of flames started spread and replicate. However, more concerning to those who watched was the flurry of crimson energies that followed it. They cleared to reveal a woman in an otherwise generic looking silver uniform. She landed before them, the same chaotic energies storming in her narrowed gaze. Her teeth gritted and bared, she was almost animalistic in her posture.

“I’m going to kill it.”

FOLLY OF THE FLAME

By Gavin McMahon

The silver clad woman stepped forward, her steps were somewhat uncertain and the energy she wielded seemed new to her. Her mastery was haphazard and graceless. Her long black hair swayed as she spun, facing down the monster and running forward. However, her posturing had given the beast time to recover and it appeared to be more ferocious than before. It grew, although the replications remained the size of the original that Lightspeed had struck. As five, and seemingly counting, of the beasts faced off against the foursome of . . . whatever they could be described as they were forced, by the hands of fate and the threat of escalation, to act. Spider-Woman shot a web above her, swinging forward to grace boot-first into the closest of the demons. Anachronism drew his axe, slashing wildly as his eyes – one a gentle blue – became primal.

Lightspeed similarly recovered. Her headstrong behaviour hadn’t been much of deterrent yet but she was reckless in her heroism. Thinking first and asking questions later. She had spent the last several months, since the incident on Brooklyn Bridge against Street¹, as the brawn to Spider-Woman’s brains so her actions, although foolhardy, weren’t unanticipated by her one-time partner. She fired shot after shot of energy, backing the creature away from the priceless art of the Guggenheim. Much like her mother, Lightspeed had always appreciated good artistry.

Spider-Woman and Anachronism fought physically. Lightspeed and the crimson warrior used energy projections. In the flurry of battle, no-one noted the arrival of the sword-bearing armoured hero. He stepped elegantly into the hallway, amidst the stragglers that now attempted to escape. He wasn’t concerned with protecting art or even saving lives. He had always just been content to indulge in the hallowedness of battle. Beneath the ornate mask, grilled and horned, his eyes were dancing with excitement that he had thought long behind him. War had been what he was trained for, be it in the boardroom or on the battlefield.

“I hope I’m not too late to the party,” announced the Silver Samurai as he caught one of the roaming creatures by the throat with his sword, which shone a bright electric blue. He was far from the Wolverine foe and one-time hero of Japan that any of them with an inkling of knowledge would have recognised. Even his suit was decidedly slim-build.

“Me either.”

The blond Cullen clambered over the mound of rubble, his black jumper embellished with the skull and crossbones looking a little worse for wear. He managed a brief, crooked smile to Anachronism before he slipped from the top of the mound and joined the fray. He found the experience exhilarating and could almost appreciate why his father and sister had spent most of their lives on the hunt for the next thrill. It was overwhelming, enduring and, perhaps most of all, it was incredibly fun. He’d enjoyed the skirmishes and battle simulations with Aiden in his basement but they were nothing compared to the true experience he now enjoyed.

As Spider-Woman, Lightspeed, Anachronism, Silver Samurai and Bloodstone battled against the replicants. The unknown woman tackled the progenitor of the species, or at least as they saw it. It smashed its tremendous flaming fists down and she narrowly managed to escape its strike. Even in the horror that she now faced, there was something beautiful about her. It was almost as if the battle-weariness she now displayed illuminated features that men had traditionally found to be mundane. She cast energy, each strike inflicting pain but not quite disabling the beast.

Spider-Woman released a bioelectric charge but her reaction time was misguided and she was caught by the monster’s flaming tail. She smashed into an impressionist painting, the blood from her nose staining the canvas, as the monster scurried off in chase of the leaving civilians. Quickly, she mustered to her feet and prepared to give chase. The battle was destroying one of the most famous museums in the world, it didn’t need to spread to the streets. As the creature was bounced back amidst a flurry of colourful baubles, she paused.

“Robbie?” Her words were incredulous as they fell from her lips.

Robbie Baldwin, her former tutee and teammate on the New Warriors, entered the room with his usual jovial flare. He may not have been an athlete or an academic and, despite her feelings of pride when she saw him, Spider-Woman could admit she didn’t see his life amounting to much if he hadn’t gained his powers. However, he was a hero through and through. Speedball was the type of hero that children could revere. Better yet, he worshipped the role he now had the opportunity to fill. When the New Warriors had disbanded, the pair had gone their separate ways and she had been led to believe he’d given up the mask. Strangely, she was glad it had turned out to be untrue.

“Who else?” he said with a broad smile. “Kinda bummed you got a new crew and didn’t think to invite me though. We made a great team, even if I do say so myself.”

She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hug him. Yet, Spider-Woman was pragmatic and she knew that it was far from the time to do so. Instead, she returned to her sarcastic self and nodded. “Who said anything about a crew? I just bumped into these guys.”

“Well, on that note, what do you say we bump these guys out of existence?” he laughed. “Although I am surprised to see jötunn on Earth and not a Thor in sight. It’d have been kind a cool to add the big guy to my list of autographs.”

“Just get your head in the game,” she snapped before softening her features. “Buddy.”

Spider-Woman and Speedball rushed at their fire jötunn, now identified and very far from Muspelheim, with a renewed vigour. Lightspeed was knocked on her ass again in the distance as Anachronism managed to finally extinguish his. The burns on his bared, muscular skin were a testament to the challenge that it had been for the Scot. An experience he wasn’t sure he wished to repeat.

The weathered mystery woman continued and, in a moment of lapsed judgement, she was seemed to lose control entirely. Her entire body erupted with cosmic energy, it looked like what they imagined a solar storm would, and it expanded outwards. Anachronism and Lightspeed were blown through what remained of a wall. Silver Samurai toppled from his mound of rubble, almost decapitating Bloodstone as they hit the ground. Spider-Woman went through a window as Speedball crashed through a pillar. All stopped to marvel at the sight, cautiously aware that their next threat might not be the creatures they had been facing.

In the centre of the storm, the woman – Christine Sonh – exhaled. She had been on the Weathernaut as the walls of metal and wire had caved in around them, she had watched as the flames and electrical explosions had thrust so many of the people she had come to know into the void. Christine remembered every moment clearly, it would fill her nightmares for years to come. She had been the unluckiest of all as the creature, the jötunn from Muspelheim, had struck her directly. Yet, as she was cast through the void, falling in its infernal wake, she was not dead and yet she was not what she had always remembered. Her morphology had somehow transformed on a genetic level. For all those living and dead, she was more than just Christine Sonh of the Weathernaut.

She was the Weathernaut.

It would be by her hand that their deaths would not be in vain. Extending her arms, the cosmic storm retracted around her until only the creatures and their progenitor were in her grasp. They appeared almost spectral as the crimson washed over their orange, flaming bodies. As energy exploded from her eyes, Weathernaut shot skyward and dragged all of those encased in her storm with her. She flew at a supersonic speed, moving higher and higher until the clouds and then the ozone layer were far behind her. She didn’t stop until the abyss once again surrounded her.

With another exhalation, she released the storm and it tore the beasts apart in its chaos. They may have screamed, they may have begged for mercy, but their words were lost in the vastness of space. They were no more than cinders as the Korean-American returned to the scene of the battle, her mind now on the heroes who had fought beside her and the injuries they may have lost in her lapse of judgement.

She landed, still lacking grace but certainly with more confidence than before. The six young heroes were already circled and discussing the situation amongst themselves when she returned.

“It is over.”

Spider-Woman furrowed her brow. “We need to talk.” The sound of sirens followed the tingling of her spider-sense. “But not here, follow me.”

CENTRAL PARK

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Who are you?” asked Martha as she folded her arms, stern and domineering as she had always been when on her quest for answers. She didn’t like mysteries and she had never enjoyed surprises. That a routine stealth mission, as stealthy as it could be with a flying rainbow, had transformed into such anarchy was unacceptable. She needed to identify how this could have happened and how it could be adapted so that it never happened again.

“Christine Sonh,” answered the meteorologist honestly. She saw no need to keep secrets. Her life was in tatters regardless after what she had endured. “I was an employee on the Weathernaut. We oversaw the threats relating to the weather on a global scale. I’m the sole survivor.” She shrugged. “At least, as far as I know. No-one else was in that pit with me.”

Silver Samurai stepped forward. “Perhaps it’s more important to identify, what are you? I’ve never seen something like that before.”

“That’s something I can’t answer,” she replied. “It’s all just changed me, somehow. I feel like there’s something else raging inside of me, something that I can’t properly describe. Words don’t do it justice.”

Martha and Julie exchanged concerned looks, fearing that it may relate to their own personal vendetta, whilst Aiden and Cullen remained uncomfortable to even be surrounded by such people. The thrill of the fight had waned and now they were just a bunch of teenagers covered in blood, bruises and burn marks. Shingen hung back, stoic and contemplative. It was Robbie that broke the silence, his infectious happiness threatening to explode from inside. He hopped forward on one foot, a coy expression on his face.

“The real question, guys, is where do we go from here?”

¹ See Amazing Fantasy #53