The Bronx

Several armed guards wearing skull masks patrolled the gated-in warehouse. There were about two dozen of them. One moved off to the side and raised his mask up to his nose. He slid a cigarette in his waiting lips and fished for a lighter.

A flame appeared a few inches from his face. One of his fellow guards lit the cigarette with a cheap convenience store lighter.

“Thanks.” He took a few drags on the cigarette and leaned against the building.

“Boss is gonna have your balls if he catches you.”

“Ask me if I give a damn. He’s got more guys here than he needs. All of this because he’s worried some preacher’s gonna come calling? Don’t make me laugh.”

“From what I hear, this dude’s bad news. Not the kind of guy you wanna mess with. And the boss just firebombed a mission he ran near Princeton Walk.”

The smoker looked up. “Near Princeton Walk…? You don’t mean Little Mogadishu, do you?”

“Yeah, that’s the name. Why, what about it?”

“Dude, the Mog is harder than Hell’s Kitchen. I hear back when he was still alive, the Kingpin wouldn’t even deal with anyone out there. Too much trouble. Some of the hardest fuckers I know won’t set foot in the Mog. When they built Princeton Walk, all the bad elements got pushed into what people started callin’ Little Mogadishu. Now, you got all the bad elements of that whole area contained in one tiny place. It’s like a war zone out there.”

“You went from not giving a damn to pissing yourself in record time.”

“That’s ’cause I know about the Mog and I know you don’t mess with any sons of bitches from there.”

“Just stay on your toes, alright?”

“Goddamn preacher was able to operate in the Mog all this time…? You know that’s the hardest bastard on the face of the planet.

The smoker removed his cigarette, straining his ears. His partner cocked his head to the side just slightly. “What’s up?”

“Shhh…” he said. He dropped his cigarette and pulled his mask back down, hefting his rifle. “You hear that?”

The guard paused, straining his ears to hear as well. Off in the distance, he could hear it. A low rumbling…like the sound of a motorcycle. “Think that’s him?”

The sound of the bike grew louder as it came closer. A bike drove off the rooftop of the building next door, flying over the fence. The rider jumped from it, a red, white, and blue blur as he somersaulted in the air. He held an unpainted, triangular shield that deflected the bullets fired by the guards.

He slammed his shield into one of the guards, using the guy to cushion his fall. With his shield attached to his left arm deflecting bullets, his right fist struck another guard in the jaw with a shattering result.

The mysterious shield-bearer was dressed in a blue, chain-mail shirt with a white star over his chest and a pair of dark blue jeans with biker boots. His hands were clad in red gloves and a red mask covered the upper part of his head.

The man called Josiah X jumped from his position, flipping in the air and bringing his heels into contact with another guard’s head. As another one came at him from behind, he delivered a mule kick, striking the man in the chest.

He ran towards another group, holding his shield out in front of him as cover from their weapons. Five of them continued firing and Josiah jumped into the midst, his shield, fist and foot simultaneously taking out three soldiers as he balanced himself on one leg. The fourth he took out with a headbutt. As for the fifth, he grabbed the barrel of the rifle and twisted it free from the man’s grip, then swung it around and used it as a bat, knocking the soldier unconscious with the hilt.

Inside the warehouse, a man with a skull for a head watched Josiah decimate his guards on monitors connected to security cameras. “Look at the way he moves. Like poetry in motion. Too bad this will be his last dance.”

SENTINELS OF LIBERTY

Part VI: Larger Than Life

By Dino Pollard

SHIELD Helicarrier

Steve Rogers emerged from the shower in his private cabin aboard the Helicarrier. Between Nomad, Haywerth and Nuke, he hadn’t had a chance to enjoy a shower in at least two or three days. Not to mention the political pressure that had begun to fall on the Avengers.

He began to wonder if he made the right decision in accepting the United Nations’ offer for the Avengers to exist as a sovereign nation. It had given them a lot more leeway to operate, but he and the team were recently brainwashed in order to attack Washington, D.C. By Noh-Varr. And judging by Gyrich’s own words when this mess with Nomad started, he knew it was just a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Steve stared at his reflection in the mirror. He rubbed some shaving cream on his face and picked up a straight razor, opening it and slowly beginning to run it along his chin.

“You’re going to kill yourself with that thing one of these days.”

Steve recognized the voice as Sharon Carter’s and smiled. “Only if certain espionage agents stop trying to startle me when I’m shaving.”

Sharon stepped into his cabin and sat on the bed, pushing his uniform to the side as he looked at him through the open bathroom door. “It’s the twenty-first century, Steve. You might want to consider investing in a razor that doesn’t double as a deadly weapon.”

“I don’t have to. Every year, Tony buys me the fanciest electric razor on the market for Christmas.”

“So why are you still using the antique?”

“Because every year, I return it and give the money to those Salvation Army Santas.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“So what can I do for you?” asked Steve as he rinsed his face of the loose hairs and remaining shaving cream left behind. “Or did you just break into my cabin to watch me shave?”

“It’s not my fault you’ve got the physique of a Greek god,” said Sharon with a grin.

“Hercules may take issue with that.”

“We just got a call from Hammond. He and Nomad are at an abandoned Hulkbuster base in Nevada.”

“I thought he was going to intercept Jack at the airport?” asked Steve.

“So did we. Apparently, he decided to tag along for a bit. Whatever the case, it seems they’ve landed in some trouble and Hammond needs back-up.”

Steve walked over to the bed and looked down at the red, white and blue uniform. “Would you mind excusing yourself while I get dressed?”

She smiled and tossed him a flirty wink. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Sharon…”

“All right, I’m going,” she said. “See you in the briefing room, Zeus.”

“Very funny.”

A few minutes later, Steve entered the briefing room, dressed in his costume except for his mask, which hung loosely around his neck. The round, indestructible shield was strapped to his back. Sharon and Fury were waiting for him as he entered.

“What do we have?” asked Steve.

Fury held a small remote and used it to turn on the large LCD monitor. There on the screen was Nomad dodging gunfire from someone in a large suit of armor. “This is from Hammond’s visual receptors. He recorded this footage and transmitted it directly to us.”

“That’s Tony’s Hulkbuster armor,” said Steve.

“Tell me about it.”

A hologram of Tony Stark, dressed in a black Armani suit with a red tie flickered in the room. “I had Pepper run a check and it turns out that particular suit of armor has gone missing.”

“How’s that possible?” asked Steve.

“If I knew, I’d tell you. Either way, I want it back. In pieces, if necessary.”

“Will you be joining me, Tony?” asked Steve.

“Sorry Cap, looks like you’re on your own. I’m in London right now, there’s no way I’d be able to make it back in time to help you or your friends.”

“Understood,” said Steve. “I’ll get your armor back, Tony. And I’ll find out who stole it.”

“We’ve got one lead already,” said Fury. “When the pilot spoke, we ran it through an analyzer. Turns out it’s Ross.”

“I thought he went missing?” asked Steve.

“Not anymore,” said Fury. “So either Ross stole this armor once he went into hiding or he’s working for whoever did.”

“You have a transport ready?” asked Steve.

“Prepped and set,” said Sharon.

“Good.”

The Bronx

The last of the skull-faced guards collapsed at Josiah’s feet. His eyes scanned the field, finding nothing but two dozen unconscious men. Josiah walked up to the warehouse’s entrance but before he could open the door, it swung out, striking him in the face. A man dressed in blue and white stood in the doorframe, a skull for his head. He held a round shield with a giant T on it in one hand and in the other he had a broad sword. A quiver full of arriws was strapped on his back over a long cape and Josiah imagined he must have a collapsed bow hidden somewhere on his person.

“Evening, Mr. X,” he said. “I think introductions are in order. I’m the Taskmaster.”

“Don’t care,” said Josiah, falling back into a fighting stance. The Taskmaster lunged forward, bringing his sword down in a wide arc on Josiah’s shield. The Taskmaster continued to press down, forcing Josiah to his knees.

He built up the strength in his legs and pushed up, forcing the Taskmaster back. As Josiah charged at him, the Taskmaster flipped over his head and kicked him in the back. Josiah fell forward, but tucked himself into a ball and rolled, quickly getting back to his feet and jumping towards the Taskmaster again.

With his shield strapped to his arm, Josiah brought the pointed edge down towards his foe. Taskmaster raised his own shield and blocked the strike and alternated quickly, side-stepping as he thrust with his sword.

Josiah narrowly avoided the strike, the blade scraping against his chain-mail. He breathed a sigh of relief and muttered a prayer of thanks for that family heirloom passed onto him by his parents. He performed a back flip, his legs jutting out, but Taskmaster grabbed him by his ankles and flipped him face down to the ground.

“I got what’s called photographic reflexes, buddy,” said the Taskmaster. “Meaning once I see your moves, I can replicate them all I want. Something I got years ago from the same guys who made you.”

“…what?” asked Josiah.

“Maybe I’ve said too much already,” said the Taskmaster. He raised his sword, ready to deliver the killing blow, but Josiah twisted at the last moment.

Josiah moved to his feet, attempting to strike Taskmaster. But each hit he attempted to land, the Taskmaster was able to deflect with relative ease. “You’re wasting your time. I know all your moves and I’ve got the moves of just about every other hero memorized.”

He headbutted Josiah and delivered a powerful kick to his chest that sent the ex-soldier flying back. The Taskmaster extended his shield-arm and pulled it back, then hurled it forward. The shield flew off his arm, racing towards Josiah. The Super Soldier bent backwards to avoid it, the shield then ricocheting off the wall behind him. Before it could hit him in the back, however, Josiah stepped to the side and clutched it out of the air.

“What the crap…?” asked the Taskmaster.

“You said you can replicate all my moves,” said Josiah. “But what about the ones you haven’t seen?”

Josiah took the round shield in his hand and threw it at the Taskmaster. The caped mercenary easily stepped to the side and began to laugh as he watched the round shield become embedded in the wall. “That it?” he asked.

“No, that was the distraction,” said Josiah. When Taskmaster looked back at him, Josiah slammed him in the face with the triangular shield and preceded to pummel him.

“My mission, all those people, why?” asked Josiah.

“’Cause the program’s tired of you runnin’ loose,” said Taskmaster. “It’s time to bring you back, make you what you’re supposed to be.”

“What program?”

“Think I’m gonna tell you?” asked the Taskmaster. “You got nothin’ on me, pal.”

Nevada

Fortunately for Jim Hammond, as an android he is unable to feel pain. And once Thunderbolt Ross, decked out in a stolen Hulkbuster suit of armor punched him in the chest, Hammond thanked his makers for that blessing.

The Human Torch, like a flaming blur, flew across the old base. Even faster than the strike had caused him to fly, he burst from his spot, streaking towards Ross and letting loose with streams of fire.

Nomad moved in next, hurling explosive grenades that blew on impact with Ross’ armored hide. The Torch flew between them. “What the hell are you doing, Monroe?”

“You mean other than helping you?” asked Nomad.

“We have more important things to worry about,” said Hammond. “I need you to find those files, I’ll distract Ross!”

Nomad nodded and left the room as Hammond kept the pressure on Ross. “You’re wasting your time, Ross. I just went toe-to-toe with the actual Hulk. Do you really thinkyou stand a chance?”

A scream of anger emanated from the old general. Shoulder-mounted rockets rose from their housings and six fired simultaneously. “Those are heat-seekers, Hammond. What do you think they’ll do to you?”

The Torch smiled. “Explosives against the Human Torch? No wonder Banner always bested you.”

“Who said anything about explosives?” asked Ross, grinning beneath the helmet.

The rockets suddenly fractured and dozens of repulsor rays fired, each one striking Hammond as his body convulsed. Ross grabbed Hammond’s head and raised him up in the air, his flames beginning to die out.

“What was that you were saying about Banner?” asked Ross.

“He had me…in a position like this,” said Hammond. “I went super nova on him. He survived. What guarantee is there that you will?”

“Not if I tear off that blasted robot head of yours first.”

“Interesting game of chicken we’re playing, Thunderbolt.” His eyes began to glow like hot coals as Ross’ temperature indicators were warning him of the increasing heat level. “Question is, can you stand the heat?”

“He won’t have to.”

A blue, red and white shield flew through the air, striking Ross in the back of his head. Ross turned and saw the shield fly back to its owner, Captain America himself. Nick Fury and Sharon Carter both stood at his side, holding strange cannon-like rifles of some sort.

“End of the line, Ross,” said Fury. “Drop the Torch and take that armor off or we’ll show you what these babies can do.”

“High-powered arc cannons, capable of tearing through that armor like a knife through butter,” said Sharon.

“The entire base is surrounded, General. Surrender now or you’ll have to face the consequences,” said Captain America.

“I’ll take my chances!” Ross flung the Torch at the trio.

“Jim, flame off!” shouted Cap.

Hammond did as he was told, deactivating his flames just in time as Cap caught him and set his old friend on the ground.

“TAKE ‘IM DOWN!” shouted Fury as both he and Sharon cut loose with their arc cannons. A large orb of blue energy shot from the powerful barrels. The first one struck the Hulkbuster suit in the chest, creating a powerful burst of temporarily-blinding light. Once it died down, the armor was on the ground, a gaping hole in the front.

The four heroes gathered around their fallen foe. Captain America, understanding the safeguards and locks on the armor from Tony, was able to remove it from Ross and pull the general free of it.

“He’s unconscious, but he’ll live,” said Captain America.

SHIELD Helicarrier

“We’ve got good news and we’ve got bad news,” said Fury, standing before the group assembled in his office—Captain America, Sharon Carter and Nomad. “The good news is Monroe found some interesting files that tell us a little more about Control. Bad news is it’s just background info. And even more bad news? I’ve been slapped with orders from on high that Ross is to be transferred to a federal holding cell. We can’t keep him in SHIELD custody, hell we can’t even talk to him.”

“How can they do that?” asked Sharon. “SHIELD is a UN organization, America has no authority over us or what we do.”

“That may be true but we can’t override another country’s jurisdiction,” said Fury. “As it stands, the Pentagon says there is no evidence Ross committed any crime. Hammond and Nomad were the ones who broke into that base and Ross was simply defending it. But because of Hammond’s involvement with Hardbottle’s Hulkbuster squad, they won’t press any charges.”

“And me?” asked Nomad.

“I threatened them with the information about the Scourge project you were forced to be involved with,” said Fury. “It’s bought us some time but not much.”

“So we have no way of speaking to Ross at all?” asked Captain America.

“Pentagon says he’s gotta be videotaped twenty-four hours a day until they reclaim him. Our hands are tied, Steve.”

“Then we look at the files, go from there,” said Captain America. “It’s our only option right now, we need to figure something out.”

A beeping noise came from Fury’s desk. “Screen up,” he said. A monitor on the desk flipped up and a video call began on the desk’s built-in computer.

“Sorry to bother you, Colonel. But we’ve found something that may interest you.”

“What’s that?” asked Fury.

“This video. Take a look at it.”

Fury watched the footage on the monitor, his eye widening. “Well I’ll be damned…”

“What is it?” asked Captain America.

“Main screen,” said Fury, issuing a command to the computer. “Steve, you gotta see this.”

A large monitor on the wall activated. Steve, Sharon and Nomad all watched. The footage showed a black man dressed in red, white and blue and holding a triangular shield doing battle with the Taskmsater.

“This…this can’t be right,” said Steve. “I thought Isaiah Bradley basically has the mental facilities of a child?”

“He does,” said Nomad. “Say hello to his son, Josiah X.”

Captain America folded his arms across his chest and a smile appeared on his face. “I want to meet him.”