LINES IN THE SAND

Part II

By Wesley Overhults

The Axis

“Councilman Benrus would be interested to learn that we’re meeting like this.”

John took a sip of his tea, the flavor an unusual one that had been imported from Raketa’s native Kree culture. The Axis was the ultimate melting pot with native-born Timebrokers mingling with those of different races who had ascended. The Council had lightened up the class restrictions on the different races over the decades, allowing more equality into their peaceful society in order to avoid civil unrest. Raketa was part of that mainstreaming. Not only was she the only woman currently serving on The Council but she was also the only member of the group who wasn’t a native-born Timebroker. John liked Raketa, considered her very capable in her duties and granted her the respect he felt she deserved. He knew enough of her past to know that she came from a warlike culture, one as equally harsh as his was. It made her good at her job but there were times she longed for real battle, not the mere peacekeeping that she had been doing. John knew what it was like struggling against an inclination towards violence.

“I’d prefer this kept between the two of us,” he admitted to Raketa. “It’s not that I don’t trust Benrus. I simply think he’s not giving this matter the attention it deserves. He’s not the one with his boots on the ground.”

“Yes, sitting on high does give one a rather skewed perspective,” noted Raketa after sipping from her own cup. “Unfortunately, so does crouching in a trench. I admit that I have given your proposal thought, John, but you know I haven’t handled a squad in centuries.”

“Those instincts don’t go away though,” reminded John. “You know that as well as I do.”

“True,” she told him. “I will give you an answer soon, John. I still need more time to deliberate. Fret not, this will stay between the two of us as you said it should.”

“Thank you for the ear and the tea,” said John as he continued to drink. “I noticed that Councilman Doxa didn’t speak during my last audience with you and the others.”

“Benrus rarely calls on him to speak and he’s too spineless to open his mouth unless someone prods him,” said Raketa. “I have seen him outside of our chambers and he’s good with people. He’s done an excellent job at helping all our divergent cultures to integrate. It’s a shame that his people skills don’t translate into our meetings. I believe that if he wanted to, he could become the head of The Council quite easily.”

“One would think that since we’re apparently dealing with religious zealots, Benrus would at least consult him,” noted John.

“As you said earlier, Benrus has his own perspective on things,” said Raketa. “You wish for me to speak with Doxa on this?”

“Actually, I was planning on talking to him at some point,” said John. “You’ll forgive me if I must cut our meeting short, Raketa. My team is currently performing two separate missions at the same time and I need to make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“A commander’s main concern should always be the lives of his or her soldiers,” noted Raketa. “I will have my answer for you, John, as soon as I make my decision.”

“One more question before I go,” decided John, finishing his tea. “Do you remember what the change was like, Raketa?”

The Kree-born Timebroker’s eyes darkened as she recalled the change John spoke of. All Timebrokers who came from other realities knew about the change they felt when they ascended. Some were able to cope with it better than others but none of them were adept at dealing with their apparent godhood. It was this inability to cope that was the main reason why the Timebrokers spirited away those who ascended and sheltered them in the Axis so they could learn to develop and control their new powers.

“It was difficult but I was a soldier. I endured,” she stated. “Why ask me that, John?”

“They didn’t reach me quick enough,” said John absently. “My abilities were already manifesting and I was using them in violent ways. I often wonder what would’ve happened if they had found me sooner. Lives could have been spared.”

“Make your point, John,” ordered Raketa.

“I think maybe I’ve misjudged someone about something,” admitted John. “It’s a tricky thing, taking the measure of someone. They always end up surprising you sooner or later.”

Earth-8

The weight of the Tallus around Goblin’s arm was more than he would’ve anticipated. He didn’t think a simple wristwatch would weigh so much but then again the Tallus was anything but simple. The remaining Exiles touched down in the reality in a blaze of fire, the smell of brimstone hanging heavy in the air around them.

“What is mission?” asked Whiplash once they could feel the firmness of the ground underneath their feet.

Goblin waited and he could hear John’s voice in his head, the Timebroker going over the mission parameters with him. It sounded simple enough but then again he had seen plenty of missions turn out to be more complicated than they originally thought. Harry reflected not for the first time on just how long he had been with the Exiles and how much he had witnessed during his time with the group. He looked to Wasp and her gaze caught his, the two of them sharing something between one another without words. Harry thought his world had ended when he learned that Liz had moved on without him. Now he was starting to learn that maybe he was building a new world for himself with Kate. It was frightening but also thrilling at the same time and he wasn’t sure how to handle that.

“As you can see, we’re in a desert,” he explained to the others. “Precisely, we’re in New Mexico. There’s a bunker over there that houses some high-ranking military officers and our country’s top military scientists, one of which is Bruce Banner. I think everyone can see where I’m going with this.”

“We’re supposed to make Banner turn into the Hulk,” realized Wasp. “Somewhere, Rick Jones is wandering around and Banner runs out to save him and gets caught in the blast.”

“Right except not,” said Goblin. “In this reality, there’s something different about the gamma radiation. It won’t turn Banner into the Hulk, it’ll just kill him instead and then the whole reality will be out of whack. We’re not here to make sure Banner saves that kid from the explosion. We’re here to save Banner and the kid from the explosion.”

“I kinda wanted to fight the Hulk though,” admitted Bruiser. “It could’ve been fun.”

“It is not fun,” corrected Whiplash. “Hulk is force of nature. This world is better off without him.”

“Well we have to hurry up if we want to make sure it goes down that way,” said Goblin, vaulting into the air and leading the way through the desert towards the military’s nuclear testing grounds. “The test site should be just over this hill. Once we get an overview of it, we’ll formulate a plan for getting inside and making sure everything goes smoothly.”

“It would be better to just shut test down,” said Whiplash as he and Molly walked while Wasp flew after her boyfriend. “At least buy time to get idiot kid out of way so Banner does not try to save him.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” realized Goblin, stopping at the top of the hill and staring at the testing facility in the valley below.

“Perhaps I should lead team then,” suggested Whiplash.

“We’re not going to have this conversation when we’re on a clock,” stated Goblin. “I’ve been with this team a lot longer than you have so I know how these missions work. We need to be prepared for anything and besides Kate I’m the only one here with the most experience at that.”

“Job is never simple,” said Whiplash. “I understand that well. Do not take me for fool, Osborn. You are not only strategist here.”

“We’re wasting time,” reminded Wasp. “If you two want to continue with the pissing contest then have at it but remember that we’ve got a job to do.”

“Molly, you create the distraction to stop the test and we’ll get Rick Jones and whoever else out of the line of fire,” ordered Goblin, realizing that his girlfriend was right.

“How do you want me to do that?” inquired the youngest Exile.

“Break stuff,” answered Goblin before taking off and flying towards the test site.

Wasp followed him in the air while Whiplash and Bruiser slid down the hill on foot and then made their way to the compound. Whiplash cracked one of his whips at the security fence and shorted out the electrical field around it. Molly wrapped her fingers around the torn part of the fencing and used her super strength to peel it back to create a hole for both her and Whiplash to enter through.

“I don’t see Jones,” said Wasp as she and Harry surveyed the area inside the compound.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Goblin. “They won’t do any further testing when they’ve got all these men out in the compound. They’ll have to shut the thing down.”

“So now we just have to get them to stop shooting at us,” said Wasp over the crack of gunfire below. She shrunk herself down enough to better dodge the bullets that were coming at her.

“Yeah, I hadn’t planned for that,” realized Goblin aloud, his enhanced durability helping him shrug off the bullets when they managed to find their marks. “Ivan and Molly can handle that though.”

“I’ve got Jones,” said Wasp as she spotted the boy who would be responsible for the creation of the Hulk. “I’m going down to get him. Cover me.”

Goblin nodded and used bolts of hellfire to divert the attention of the armed soldiers that were training their guns on Wasp. He didn’t have to work very hard considering that they were relieved of their weapons in seconds by Whiplash, his electrified coils turning their guns into slag. Harry descended for a closer look at the battle, using his hellfire as a suppression tool only. This was a peaceful mission and he didn’t want anyone getting grievously injured or possibly even getting killed. His first foray as team leader wasn’t exactly going smoothly and he didn’t want things to get even more out of hand than they already were. Evidence to support this theory came in the form of the tanks that were rumbling towards his teammates.

“Don’t kill, maim, or cripple anyone,” he ordered. “All we have to do is buy a few more seconds so Kate can get the kid out of here.”

“It is not us you should be warning,” said Whiplash. “Little sister, do please stop those tanks.”

“I’m not your sister,” reminded Bruiser before she ran towards one of the tanks and punched a hole through its front.

“A slip of tongue,” apologized Whiplash, watching Molly use the hole she created as a stepping stone to get up to the tank’s turret and then bend the barrel of it sideways before snapping it off completely.

“Everyone stand down!” shouted a voice.

Goblin noticed a dark-haired man in a lab coat come running out of the bunker, waving his hands frantically. He knew that it was Bruce Banner and immediately ordered the Exiles to stand down. Bruiser rolled her eyes and simply stood there on top of the tank while Whiplash powered down his whips.

“Dr. Banner, we’re sorry for the intrusion but we’ve been sent here to get that kid out of the test area before something happens,” explained Goblin, motioning in Wasp’s direction.

“There’s no time for that,” said Banner. “My colleague Igor didn’t give the order to stop the testing. They’re about to drop the bomb right now.”

“So now we will all turn into Hulks or die,” realized Whiplash. “Amazing leadership you display, Osborn.”

“Not if someone stops that bomb before it hits us,” said Goblin before rocketing towards the nuclear bomb.

Kate Bishop cursed under her breath as she realized what Harry was doing and took off after him. She had almost died more than once and she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to someone she loved when she could be around to help him avoid such a fate. She flew as fast as she could, trying desperately to reach him even though she had no clue what to do once she arrived there.

“There are easier ways to die than this,” she reminded him. “I should know.”

“It’s my fault that we’re in this mess,” reminded Goblin. “I suck at being a leader. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to take Will’s job.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” assured Wasp even as Goblin managed to get his hands underneath the bomb. She zipped up above it and nervously looked at the intimidating device. “I’m going to have to disarm this thing.”

“That would be ideal,” grunted Harry as he struggled to stop the bomb from descending. “Wish Pete was here. He did crap like this all the time.” Goblin pointed one of his hands towards the ground and let out a blast of hellfire, using the stream of energy like a retro rocket to help slow the bomb’s fall.

“No pressure here but I seriously don’t know what I’m doing,” said Wasp as she tried to figure out some way of getting into the wiring of the bomb without making it accidentally explode. “I don’t think I’ll be able to defuse it.”

“I don’t think I can slow this thing down in time,” realized Goblin as the ground rushed up to meet them.

“Hang on,” said Wasp as she zipped around to be next to Harry and then used her sting blasts to help him slow the bomb down. “I’m not sure if I can do this. I only saw Jan do it one time so I dunno.”

“Do what?” asked Harry even as Kate cranked up her size-manipulation ability and started to grow instead of shrink.

With her newfound strength, it was easy to help Goblin hold the bomb with one hand and continue helping him slow everything down with the other. Both Exiles gently lowered the bomb to the ground without damaging it before Kate returned to normal size. Her heart was beating so fast that it threatened to come out of her chest and she found herself greedily gasping for air.

“I’m not doing that again,” she told Goblin as he cradled her in his arms and let her compose herself. “Seriously . . . I think I’m going to pass out or something.”

“Just breathe normally,” he told her. “You were pretty amazing up there, Kate.”

“Pretty amazing at getting . . . myself killed,” she said in between ragged breaths, trying desperately to calm herself down.

“They have this man Igor in custody,” stated Whiplash. “I am saddened by his actions. They do not reflect the people of my homeland. You are slightly more capable than I imagined, Osborn. Perhaps you are having more of my respect.”

“I’ll take everything I can get at the moment,” said Goblin as he surveyed the scene. “Well, it looks like we’re all clear here. Guess it’s time to go home.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than something like a tear in the very fabric of reality opened up before the Exiles. Winged warriors with crackling swords stepped from the crack and the Exiles could see Samuel Guthrie and Rahne Sinclair were among them. That automatically let the time-tossed heroes know that The Order had come to kill them.

“Take heart, you weary travelers,” said Warren Worthington III as he and the rest of The Choir readied to attack. “You have the privilege of being The Choir’s first victims in many decades. Know that when your blood stains my blade, it shall mingle with the blood of many fine warriors who have fallen before me and my flock.”

“I guess I was wrong about going home then,” decided Goblin, his eyes flicking to the Tallus on his wrist. “Really wish I hadn’t taken this job.”

Earth-186

“You managed to snag a whole wardrobe’s worth of clothes?”

Melissa Gold came out of the bathroom wearing a shirt that was too big for her and a pair of gym shorts. She pulled her platinum-blond hair back into a ponytail and tied it messily, leaving the strand of pink hair hanging limply along the side of her face. She brushed the lock out of her eyes and then settled herself on the one bed in the hotel suite she shared with Sandman. The leader of the Exiles was already reclining in the bed and Songbird rolled onto her side so she could talk face-to-face with him, her head resting against her hand.

“I got enough to last me a couple days,” she confirmed.

“Whatever, back to business,” decided Sandman. “I did some recon by slipping through the air vents in this place. Stark’s private security is in all the rooms surrounding his and the ones adjacent to his have doors so they can get in there quickly in case something goes wrong. Whoever this hitman is, he won’t have the chance to get up close and personal.”

“This is just the kind of pillow talk a girl loves to hear,” sniped Songbird. “And to think we haven’t even had sex yet either. You’re certainly the charmer, Mr. Baker.”

“Please, my foreplay is a lot better than this,” scoffed Sandman.

“I think I’ll pass on the chance to discover that,” decided Songbird. “So, aside from your sexist, automatic labeling of the assassin as a ‘he’, you’ve figured out that they won’t be in the room when they do their job. That means, what, we’re dealing with a sniper then?”

“Unless John was lying about there not being any superhuman people in this world then yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” agreed Sandman. “Stark’s room does have a really large balcony but the buildings surrounding this place are mostly casinos. You know how tight security can be in places like that.”

“Again with the baseless assumptions,” said Songbird. “I get your point though. It would have to be a pretty difficult shot to make but it’s not out of the question. You and I have both dealt with enough people who are capable of doing it.”

“Well, let’s assume that aside from no superhumans, everybody still exists in this world,” suggested Sandman. “There’s only one person on the list of ‘people I’ve dealt with’ that could make a difficult shot like that without some sort of superhuman ability.”

“Oh God, not him,” groaned Songbird. “You really think it’s Bullseye?”

“We fought him in one of the other realities and he was pretty much the same,” explained Sandman. “Trust me, this kind of hit has his name written all over it.”

“Well with the wedding the day after tomorrow, he’ll need to work fast then,” said Songbird. “You think he’ll try it tonight?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check the building’s perimeter before going to bed,” decided Sandman. “Beats staying in bed all night watching TV.”

“Again, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” said Songbird. “Fine, you check the ground while I check from the air.” Melissa got out of bed and moved to the room’s closet, taking out her sonic carapace along with the rest of her uniform.

“You’re going to spook a ton of people with your wings,” warned Sandman. “You stay here and I’ll do the perimeter check. I can move around without being seen, especially in this big of a sandbox.”

She had to admit that his rationale was sound. Without even needing to say it, Melissa just nodded her head in approval and watched Sandman dissolve into a pile of sand that slunk across the floor and then seeped through the grating of an air vent. She wasn’t going to just sit around and wait while he did all the work. She had been doing a lot more than just lounging around the pool earlier that day. Melissa had exceptional hearing. Though she needed the help of her sonic carapace to generate her constructs, being without it still didn’t negate the other augmentations in her body. The inner workings of each ear had been modified to withstand the intensity of even her most devastating screams, making sure she could hear with complete clarity even in the noisiest of situations. So when she was flirting with Sandman by the pool, Songbird was also listening to the conversation between Tony Stark and his future bride. She had also done some research on Stark thanks to the power of the internet.

Simply put, Tony Stark was a marked man. He was probably the most influential and successful businessman in the world, his corporate empire spanning the globe in his relentless quest to raise the quality of living through the power of technology. This put him in the crosshairs of some very powerful yet underhanded people. There was Justin Hammer and those of his ilk, Stark’s American rivals who would love nothing more than to see the rich playboy get knocked back down to Earth. Then there were his international rivals, most notable among them being Kenjiro Fujikawa, Rumiko’s father. It was no secret that Kenjiro vehemently disapproved of Stark’s marriage to his daughter and had publicly stated that he was attending the wedding only because it was his duty as the bride’s father. Melissa wouldn’t put it past him to hire someone to knock off Stark to not only save his family the shame but also to get ahead in the international market.

“So think about this logically then,” Melissa told herself. “This is a world without superhumans. That means nobody can come up through the air vents or walk through walls or anything like that. Will was right, a sniper would be the most likely choice. There’s no way to get inside the room to do it up close with so much security around them. The hitter would have to try from a distance unless . . .”

The thought struck her like a hammer and she realized what was really going on. She had to somehow get into Stark’s room and warn him about what was going on before it was too late. If the hitter was who she thought it was then they were already too close to Stark already.

It seemed that their intuition was right on the money. Sandman’s perimeter sweep of the buildings adjacent to the hotel was almost coming to a close when he struck gold. He saw the man standing there in front of the open door, peering through the scope of his sniper rifle and lining up the perfect shot that would put the bullet in Tony Stark’s head. Sandman could see over the man’s shoulder and knew that the shooter had a perfect line of sight straight into Stark’s hotel room. All it took was for Stark to put himself into the shooter’s crosshairs and one twitch of the trigger finger would put him down.

“You guys must drink a hell of a lot of coffee to pull this crap off,” he said to the shooter as he reformed himself behind the man and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. “How long have you been watching that one spot anyway? Couple of hours? Longer than that?”

“I don’t know who the hell you are or how you got up here but you just signed your own death certificate,” stated the hitter, swiveling himself around and pulling his rifle off the tripod in one easy motion, the barrel of the gun leveled straight at Sandman’s head.

The ease and grace of the hitter’s movements would have unnerved any normal person but Sandman wasn’t normal. His body was composed completely of sand and there was nothing a bullet to the head could do to slow down a man with no internal organs. The hitter took his shot and the bullet burrowed itself into Sandman’s forehead, spraying sand in all directions as it exited the back of his skull. Sandman’s brows furrowed in irritation as the hole in his head closed itself up as if it had never existed in the first place. The panicked hitman fired again but the shots were equally as ineffective as his first one. A stream of sand shot from Sandman’s outstretched hand and almost knocked the man out the open window. The stream turned into a giant hand that clutched the man tightly, picking him up and the pinning him against the wall next to the window. The rifle clattered on the floor.

“You probably thought this would be an easy hit and maybe it would’ve been without me,” said Sandman as he approached the man. “I would ask who hired you but I don’t really give a damn. Once you’re stopped, I get to move on to another mission. I’d say you’re pretty stopped right now, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re some kinda damn freak,” said the man, struggling against the stream of sand that held him in place. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m not even sure anymore,” admitted Sandman, his mind flashing back to the incident involving the Scientist Supreme. “Things were simple once, back when I was like you. Somebody pays you to do a job, you do it, you go blow the money on hookers and booze. I coulda really cleaned up in a world like this, a world where people don’t shoot laser beams from their eyes or snap tanks in half like they were made out of cardboard. Thing is though, this damn conscience kept getting in the way. I listened to it too often and, well, here I am working for some crazy reality police force.”

“You’re a complete whackjob,” stated the shooter before the sand morphed around his mouth to silence him and Sandman put himself dangerously close to the man so he could look him in the eye.

“Sometimes I think I am,” he admitted to the hitman, watching the look of sheer panic in his eyes as he began to suffocate. “I’ve killed people before when it’s necessary. Maybe it’s necessary now.”

He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Honestly, he hadn’t felt this way in years. What was happening to him? He was a hero for God’s sake, not some merciless killer. Yet here he was, watching this man die. Something else was happening though. Sandman could see the aging in the man’s face, could see that he was growing old in mere seconds. It was just like what happened with the Scientist Supreme and he had to stop it. He had to stop himself before he killed the man. That wasn’t part of the mission but Sandman didn’t care. He was too enamored with this new power and he could feel the old urges returning. Power could corrupt a man, something that William Baker knew too well. This wasn’t like when he first gained his powers. Now he felt more powerful than he ever had in his life, like maybe he was just as powerful as God.

Something suddenly diverted his attention. The ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream echoed through the night and he knew of only one woman who could scream like that. Melissa Gold’s sonic scream snapped him out of his trance and Sandman’s arm receded back to its rightful size, leaving the hitman’s dead body to sprawl lifelessly on the floor. He thoughtlessly dove out of the window, his body spraying across the pavement on impact. Will Baker’s mind was only on one thing: saving Melissa Gold’s life. Once his mission was finished, he would deal with the ramifications of having taken that hitman’s life through what was unnatural means even for him.

Next Issue: Sandman and Songbird finish up their mission but they may already be too late to save their teammates from The Choir.