LINES IN THE SAND

Part IV

By Wesley Overhults

An Unknown Earth

The air was alive with fire as the Exiles entered the new reality along with their prisoner.  Goblin let go of Warren as soon as they were firmly shifted into the new reality.  The Tallus was telling him that the reality was devoid of human life, a barren wasteland after being scarred by an apocalypse.  There were no innocent people for The Choir to endanger while they fought the Exiles.  In short, it was the perfect battleground.

“You’ve played your hand well, demon,” admitted Warren, managing to catch Harry across the chest with his blessed blade, the wound drawing blood and only hastening the release of The Choir’s leader.  “Don’t think that my flock won’t come after its lost shepherd.”

“I was counting on it,” admitted Goblin, clutching his new wound.  “I don’t care if you people want to kill us.  The only thing I care about is not letting you kill anyone else while you’re trying to do it.”

“I would not be opposed to killing him,” noted Whiplash, using one of his whips to disarm Warren.  “That is the only thing that his kind will be understanding.”

Wasp hit Warren with a duo of sting bolts to stun him and then Bruiser delivered a knockout punch that left him on the ground unconscious.  The Exiles looked to one another and then to the Tallus on Goblin’s wrist.  The gems on the gauntlet were dark, their power completely depleted from their jump.  John had warned them that the Tallus was only temporary with enough power for two jumps: one to get them to the mission and the other to get them home.  They had used up those jumps and now they were going to have to wait for John to come up with something.  Sandman and Songbird were still away on their own mission.  Perhaps John could send them in for a rescue.  Even if that was the plan, the Exiles knew that they weren’t going to be very lonely for long.

“Molly, hold him and make it look like you could kill him easily,” ordered Goblin as a portal opened up that was clearly created by The Choir.

“I could kill him easily,” reminded Bruiser as she hoisted Warren’s unconscious body up and wrapped her arm around his neck so that it only took one move to snap it with her strength.  “I’m on Ivan’s side.  These guys want to kill us so there’s no reason to play around with them.”

“Just do it,” said Goblin as the portal closed after the contingent of The Order all passed through it.  “I think what we need to do right now is stand here and have a nice talk.  Nobody makes any threatening moves and maybe we can settle this peacefully.”

“Return him to our fold,” ordered Theresa Cassidy.  “Ye’ll not get another offer.”

“I may not be the businessman that my father was but I at least know a few things about bargaining,” replied Goblin.  “You see, there’s this thing called leverage and right now we have it.  If you want us to return him to you unharmed then you’re just going to have to chill out here and wait for our ride to pick us up.  Once our other teammates show up to take us home, we’ll leave him here with you and you people can go back to wherever you came from.”

“That is terrible deal,” said Whiplash.  “Osborn, we need to send message.”

“I know what message I want to send,” said Goblin.  “Do we have a deal or are things going to get really ugly here?”

“Ye have a deal,” said Theresa grudgingly.

“She doesn’t speak for me,” stated Machine Man as he pushed his way to the front of The Choir’s ranks and then leveled his energy cannon at Goblin.  “Say hello to my little friend, meatbag.”

“Chase?” asked Bruiser but her question was lost in the energy discharge from Machine Man’s weapon.

Goblin blocked the blast of energy with his bare hand and then instinctively hit Machine Man with a blast of hellfire.  He realized that the supernatural fire wouldn’t scorch Machine Man’s soul since it was non-existent but he was hoping the flames would cause damage to the cyborg’s body.  It was enough to get Machine Man to back up but there was a larger problem.  In the chaos of Chase’s attack, Theresa and The Choir had decided to cancel their previous deal.  With one wave of her hand, the redheaded banshee unleashed the rest of The Choir on the Exiles.

“Make good on threat,” ordered Whiplash, turning to Bruiser and seeing that she was still holding Warren.

“You want her to become a killer?” questioned Goblin.  “Drop him and help us fight, Molly.  These people are coming straight for us.”

“A little late on trying to preserve her innocence,” said Machine Man, his nanotech body growing wings and allowing him to fly through The Choir’s ranks so that he could reach Bruiser.  “I’m taking you back with me, Mol.”

“You know this thing, little sister?” asked Whiplash, deflecting the energy blasts from Machine Man’s cannons with his whips and using them to clip the cyborg’s wings.

“I’m the only one who can call her that,” snarled Machine Man, hitting the ground on his feet and morphing his nanotech body around Whiplash’s strikes.  “This your new family, Mol?  You think these clowns can take care of you better than me?”

“It’s not that,” said Bruiser.  “I thought you were dead, Chase, and plus you tried to kill me and everyone else.  I thought we were your friends.”

Machine Man wasn’t in the mood to listen even if he was capable of experiencing moods like a human being.  Razor-sharp blades came out of his hands and cut through Whiplash’s whips with ease.  He deflected a strike that was aimed for his head, severing the metallic cord though the electricity surrounding it did interact negatively with his body.  He didn’t care though.  He was a machine, incapable of feeling pain or any other physical sensations.  There was only one person in his existence that he cared about now and it was Bruiser.  He didn’t care how many people he had to kill to get her back.  They were all just stupid sacks of flesh to him.

“They’ve poisoned your mind and turned you against me,” realized Machine Man as his blades drew blood from Whiplash’s chest.  “Well I’m going to kill them and then take you back with me.  I’ll take care of you, Mol, don’t worry about that.”

“She is not going anywhere with you,” stated Whiplash, trying to put himself between Bruiser and Machine Man.

“As if you could stop me,” laughed Machine Man.  “You’ve got nothing, you pathetic waste of oxygen.  Your tech is garbage compared to mine and that squishy, meat body is inferior to mine.  You really want to die for her?  Fine then, call me Santa Claus and here’s your Christmas present early.”

Machine Man brought his blade down towards Whiplash even as the Russian-born Exile used his body to shield Bruiser from the strike.  Ivan wasn’t able to save his own family from death but since becoming a mercenary he had tried to prevent other innocent people from dying because of him.  He had a soft spot in his heart for Molly and he knew in his heart that Goblin had been right earlier.  Maybe she had done some bad things but Molly was still young and deserved to have a decent life with people who cared about her and would love her.  If he could die trying to protect her from the evils of the world then that was fine with Ivan Vanko.

Machine Man’s killing stroke never found its original mark.  Something came in between the blade and Whiplash.  Bruiser looked in shock at the cut on her hand, seeing herself bleed for the first time in a very long time.  Nothing had ever hurt her before, not since she discovered her powers.  Realizing that the cut came from Chase’s blade made her angry.

“I shifted my nanotech to mimic adamantium and cut through his whips,” explained Machine Man.  “Mol, I didn’t . . .”

“You don’t get to call me that,” snarled Bruiser, anger raging in her eyes as she came at Machine Man.  “You hurt me, Chase.  That’s all you’ve done to anyone!”

Machine Man tried to make sense of the things that were going through his head.  He didn’t register the identity of his attacker, merely that there was an attacker present.  Without second thought, he blocked Bruiser’s punch and then swatted her away.  He looked at Whiplash and forced his mechanical mind to focus.  These Exiles had taken away Molly just like they had taken away Gertrude.  Things were fine until they came to his world and ripped it asunder.  They wouldn’t take anything away from him again though.  Now it was time for him to take something from them.

“Game over, meatbag,” said Machine Man as he rammed one of his blades through Whiplash’s stomach and watched the tip of the blade come out through the man’s spine.  “I’m the only big brother Molly will ever need.”

Bruiser let out a strangled cry of pain as she saw what happened and immediately rushed to cradle Whiplash’s body as Machine Man slid it off his blade like a piece of meat off a skewer.  Chase watched her begin to cry and didn’t understand the emotion.  He had more work to do with killing the other Exiles.  It was the only way to make sure that Bruiser would be safe.  To that end, he sprouted wings once more and vaulted into the sky to attack the other Exiles.

“You’re not going to die,” promised Bruiser tearfully.  “You hear me, Ivan?  I’m not going to lose another friend.  I’m not!”

“It is done, little sister,” gasped Whiplash.  “Osborn . . . he was right.  You are not . . . made for killing.”

Bruiser clutched him to her chest, her fingers digging into his skin.  She could tell that someone was coming towards her and her head snapped up in that direction.  She saw Rahne Sinclair trying to close in on her wounded prey and clenched her teeth to prepare for a fight.

“If you want to shoot me then go ahead,” she dared the inquisitor.

Rahne pulled out her gun and leveled it at Bruiser, her hand shaking as she prepared to murder a fifteen-year-old girl.  Something inside her screamed at her that it wasn’t right, that God wasn’t calling her to become a monster.  Yet she already was a monster, wasn’t she?  So why would it matter so much if she just did what came naturally to her?

“It wouldn’t be proper,” decided Rahne after lowering her weapon.  It was then that she felt something go off in her head.  She could feel the change inside her, the beast rising up from the pit of her soul.

“You’re hurting her,” realized Bruiser as she saw that Samuel had activated Rahne’s trigger implant.

“Not as much as she’ll hurt you,” warned Samuel.

Rahne’s muscles bulged and twisted as she took on her werewolf form.  She snarled and snapped her fangs, her primitive mind registering Bruiser was an enemy.  Bruiser was ready to defend herself but she quickly realized that she wouldn’t have to.  She felt a gust of wind kick up and realized what was happening.  Their ride was here and there was still time to save her teammate.  If they could get back to the Axis then perhaps the Timebrokers could do something for Whiplash.

“Help him!” she snapped at Sandman as he dropped down next to her and then warped his body into a dome over both her and Whiplash to protect them as Rahne pounced.

“How bad is he?” inquired Sandman, his head protruding from the inside wall of the dome to look at Bruiser.

“Pretty damn bad,” retorted Bruiser.  “Get us out of here, Will.”

“Working on it,” assured Sandman, the incident with John pushed to the back of his mind for the moment.  At that point, he was only worried about making sure all his teammates got home alive.  “You stay with him.  I’m going for their leader.”

“Nice of you and Will to show up,” joked Goblin as he saw Songbird fly towards him on her sonic wings.  “Do something about the one with the scream.”

Songbird saw immediately what Harry was talking about.  He was shielding himself against Theresa’s sonic scream and if there was one method of attack that Melissa knew all about then it was that one.  She opened her mouth and let out her own scream, modulating the frequency to cancel out Theresa’s.  With the attack neutralized, Songbird turned her attention to the attacker.  A battering ram made from solid sound appeared in front of her and shot towards Theresa.  Realizing that she couldn’t stop the construct, Theresa dove under it, soaring on her metallic wings through the barrage of sound spikes that Songbird flung at her.  The two of them darted and zipped through the air, trading blows and then separating themselves from one another.  Songbird turned to see more Choir members coming to their leader’s defense.  She battered them backwards with a sonic scream before feeling the heat of a laser blast scorch the air around her.

“Ivan’s hurt and we need to regroup,” said Goblin as he blasted at Machine Man.  “What took you guys so long?”

“Will had an issue,” said Songbird, using a shield of sound to block Machine Man’s blasts.  “Who the hell are these people?”

“More of the same people who collapsed that reality with the vampires,” answered Goblin, both he and Songbird diving out of the sky to get to Sandman and the other Exiles before The Choir could swarm them.  “We have to stick together.  There’s too many of them for us to get separated.”

“You won’t do anything, demon,” promised Warren Worthington III as he flew towards them from behind and stabbed Goblin in the shoulder with his sword.

Harry howled in pain and came to an abrupt meeting with the ground, skidding across the dirt.  Warren turned and swiped at Songbird with his razor-sharp wings.  Melissa ducked the attack and created a giant hammer out of sound that swatted Warren towards the ground.  The leader of The Choir landed in front of Sandman, who immediately returned to normal shape and came at him.  Warren managed to chop off Sandman’s arm with his sword but got tagged by the other one, the blow almost like being hit in the head with a rock.  Sandman grew his arm back and then took another swing at Warren.  The avenging angel used one of his wings as a shield to block the attack but a stream of sand shot from Sandman’s chest and took him to the ground.  Sandman vaulted into the air and shot two sand spikes out of his hand, the blades pinning Warren to the ground by his wings.  The leader of the Exiles dropped like a rock onto Warren’s chest, almost crushing it and killing him.

“You the leader of this outfit?” he inquired and Warren could only gasp in response.  “You the one who killed Ivan?”

“Yes and no,” rasped Warren.

“Then I’m just going to kill you to send a message,” assured Sandman as he watched Warren’s face begin to wither from rapidly aging.  “You caught us by surprise the first time but now we know you exist.  We’re going to hunt you down like dogs and make it hurt before we put you out of your misery.”

“Will, don’t,” ordered Songbird as she saw what was happening.

“You could’ve had a long life,” continued Sandman as Warren Worthington III continued aging with more exposure to the sand.  “It could’ve been a happy one but instead you chose to make it ugly.  Now you’re going to feel what it could’ve been like to live that long life but it will be anything but happy.”

William Baker looked into the aging, decaying eyes of his enemy even as he could feel him and the rest of the team teleporting away.  The leader of The Choir was dead but one of the Exiles might have been as well.  Sandman didn’t know how he should feel about that.  He was doing it again, losing control of himself.  John was right; he wasn’t fit to wear the Tallus and lead the team.  If he was going to act like his old self then he deserved exactly the kind of punishment that any criminal deserved.

“What the hell was that?” asked Goblin as the Exiles returned to the Axis.

“Lock me up,” said Sandman as he looked at John and stretched out his hands as if John was a cop ready to cuff them.  “Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Molly Hayes sat with her head in her hands and stared at the floor.  The tears spilled out of her eyes, running like tiny rivers down her cheeks.  Her body registered the presence of John’s hand on her shoulder but she didn’t feel it.  She didn’t feel anything anymore.  This numbness was familiar to her, too familiar in fact.  She felt it when she learned that Nico Minoru betrayed her and her friends but she tried to bury that numbness by helping the rest of the Runaways with Alex’s plans.  Then she felt that numbness again when the Exiles left her reality, leaving behind a broken girl with no family left in the world.

“We couldn’t save him,” said John sadly.  “He was already dead.”

“I can’t keep losing my family,” muttered Bruiser to herself.

“You’re not unhinged from time,” reminded John.  “You can choose to go home.”

“I don’t have a damn home,” she snapped at him.  “Just . . . just give me a mission or . . . or something I can punch.  I can’t just sit here.  I can’t!”

Bruiser crushed the armrest of the bench as she used it like a crutch to help her get up.  John instantly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest as she continued to cry.  Goblin and Wasp were right there, Wasp gently taking John’s place and letting Bruiser cry on her shoulder.

“He’ll be returned to his home reality for burial,” assured John as he looked at Goblin.  “Walk with me a moment.  You and I have things to talk about.”

“Alright,” said Goblin as he and John walked into a separate room.  “What’s this about?”

“This,” said John as he pulled a watch out of his pocket.  “This is the Tallus that Sandman was wearing.  Songbird asked for me to remove it from her, said she wasn’t able to properly lead the team after everything that happened.”

“She and Will are close,” confirmed Goblin.  “I can’t imagine what she’s going through with all this.  I wouldn’t blame her if she chose to leave the team for good.”

“No, she’s still committed to it and there’s the fact that she’s still unhinged as well,” corrected John.  “It’s just that the Exiles now find themselves without a real leader.  I thought maybe you could take that job.”

“Me?” questioned Goblin nervously.  “Look, that was just this one time and I don’t even think I did a very good job of it.  Ivan got killed on my watch.”

“There’s no one else to do this, Harry,” said John as the watch disappeared from his hand and reappeared on Goblin’s wrist.  “Molly is a mess right now and Kate is still too young even with her experience level.”

“You could get someone more qualified,” reminded Goblin.  “I’m sure there’s someone.”

“I’ll help you when you need it but you’re the one calling the shots,” said Songbird as she stepped into the room.  “You did a good job out there, Harry.  It’s not your fault that everything went south.”

“I’m the leader, I’m responsible for what happens,” said Goblin as he tried to pull the watch off his wrist, knowing that it never would.  “John, take this thing off me.”

“That is exactly why you should be leader,” said John.  “Much as you might deny it, you have a great sense of responsibility and it’s time you started taking charge of things.”

“Fine but I’ll take her up on that offer of help,” decided Goblin as he extended his hand to Songbird.  “I know you can’t lead us fully, Melissa, but I’m happy to have the help.”

“Happy to give it,” said Songbird as she shook his hand.  “We’ve got at least two empty spots on our roster, boss.  Any suggestions on who should fill them?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I do,” admitted Goblin.

“Then I’ll leave you and John to it,” said Songbird as she left the room.  “I have to check on Will.”

“Who do you want on the team?” asked John, his curiosity evident in his tone.

“A couple of old friends,” said Goblin with a faint grin on his face.  “I think right now we need them more than ever.”

Sandman hadn’t been on the wrong side of the prison bars for a long time and he was unnerved by it.  He stared through the Plexiglas-type material covering the front wall of his containment cell, staring at the opposite wall of the hallway.  They put him in an isolated section of the building, the one that the peacekeeping force designed to house offenders.  He doubted it had ever been used before, given how idyllic the Axis seemed.  He didn’t expect many visitors, if any, to pass by so it surprised him when the door to the hallway opened and Songbird came up to stand in front of his cell.

“How are you?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“I dunno,” he replied truthfully.

“Brought something to cheer you up,” said Songbird as she held up what looked like a tablet computer.  “C’mere and watch with me.”

Songbird sat down with her back to Sandman and put the video screen in her lap.  Sandman moved to sit up against the front wall of his cell and watched over her shoulder.  It was a baseball game, one that Sandman could’ve sworn he had seen before.  He watched the people in the familiar uniforms and realized exactly what game it was.  It was the 2000 World Series, the one between the New York Mets and their dreaded rivals the Yankees.

“Mel, you know how this series ends,” reminded Sandman.  “The Yankees squash ’em flat in five games.  Don’t tell me you’re one of those bitter fans who can’t let it go.”

“Shut up, look at the scoreboard, and watch,” said Songbird.

Sandman did as he was told and saw something that didn’t make any sense.  This was the seventh game.  The date was still right but somehow things were different.  The series was tied with each team having three wins and this was the final game.  More importantly, this was the final inning with the Mets at bat and only trailing by two runs.

“It’s a different reality,” he realized aloud.

Songbird didn’t say anything.  She just watched the video screen that John had given her.  Honestly, she felt like she was a kid again or at least a teenager.  It wasn’t just the fact that she was a baseball fan or that she was sitting there watching the game with Will.  More than anything, Songbird just wanted to forget the mess that her life was becoming.  She wanted to just remember how simple things were once.  She remembered the series and remembered the disappointing outcome just as he did.  Abe teased her about it for weeks, touting the fact that his team triumphed over hers.

“C’mon,” she muttered as she watched the player in the Mets uniform swing at the ball.

The crack of the bat striking the ball was unmistakable and the hit was fair.  The ball went flying through the air before landing in the upper level of seats.  The batter’s teammates that were already on bases ran around the diamond, the batter himself taking a lap and jumping into the arms of his ecstatic teammates.  The New York Mets defeated the Yankees in what that reality would come to call one of the best series of games in World Series history.

“Mel,” said Sandman quietly.

“No, listen,” said Songbird as she turned and looked at him.  “Things aren’t always what they seem, Will.  I know deep down inside you’re a good man.  You’re strong and decent and you have a good heart.  I think maybe I’m in love with you, Will, or at least I think I’d like to be.  Whatever this thing is, whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to face it alone.”

“I think maybe I’d like to love you too,” he admitted to her.  “I’m scared about this thing, Mel.  I feel like maybe I’m not going to live through it.”

“John said all Timebrokers who ascend go through this,” said Songbird.  “You’re going to be fine, Will.  You just have to learn how to control yourself.  I’ll be here.  Whenever I’m not out there with the others, I’ll be right here with you.”

“Thank you,” said Sandman, pressing his lips to the wall and kissing the spot where she had her hand pressed against it on the opposite side.  “Really, I need someone here with me and I wouldn’t want anyone but you.”

“Still the charmer,” said Songbird.  “I need to go in a little while.  We’re probably going to get another mission soon.  I can try to get another channel on this thing and we could watch TV.”

“Sure,” decided Sandman as the two of them tried to find something else to watch on the video screen.

His eyes shot open and he gasped sharply as he struggled to stay alive.  Ivan Vanko thrashed violently and finally sat up in his bed, his breath still ragged.  He looked to his wrists, specifically the bionic housings that contained his coils.  With a simple thought, the whips shot out from their hiding places, completely functional as if nothing had ever happened to them.

“Good, you’re awake,” said John even as Whiplash looked at him quizzically.  “There’s a lot of work to get done and you don’t need to be lying around.”

“I was dead,” said Whiplash.

“No, you were barely alive and we healed you,” corrected John.  “Your costume is over there.  Put it on and then follow me.”  John turned his back while Whiplash got out of bed and then changed clothes.

“Where is Molly?” demanded Whiplash, his whips extended and ready to strike once John turned back around to face him.  “I must tell her that I am not dead.”

“No, you need to stay dead,” said John.  “Mr. Vanko, I believe I’ve come to the same understanding you have about our enemy.  This is not an enemy that we can reason with, nor is it one that we can corral and contain.  We need to fight fire with fire, Ivan.”

“And you want me to be doing this,” realized Whiplash.

“Not just you,” said John as he motioned for Whiplash to follow him out of the room and down the hall.  “I have some people you need to meet.”

John and Whiplash both entered the room and Whiplash saw a group of people standing there.  One of them was easily recognizable as Venom, the alien suit’s tendrils undulating in agitation.  Next to him, almost dwarfed by his size, was someone wearing the same garb as the Punisher with a trench coat draped over his shoulders, the coat partially covering up the skull insignia on his chest.  Two women rounded out the group, one of them with chestnut-brown hair and red-on-black eyes and the other concealing her features under the hood of a black cloak.  Whiplash studied the last woman and noted that her skin was green, making him immediately think that she was gamma-irradiated somehow.

“It’s about damn time he woke his ass up,” said the man in the Punisher garb and Whiplash realized from the sound of his voice that he was still young.  “This the guy that’s supposed to be our leader?”

“If he is then show him respect, Daniel,” suggested Venom before giving Whiplash an informal salute.  “Colonel John Jameson, sir.  My other and I are both at your disposal.”

“And you two?” inquired Whiplash as he looked to the women.

“Folks call me Legacy,” said the girl with the brown hair.  “That one’s Eclipse.  She don’t talk much.”

“I talk when necessary,” corrected Eclipse, flipping back her hood to reveal that she was a Skrull.

“And this will be your handler,” said John as he motioned to Raketa.  “Ivan, I think you’re very familiar with how this works but there’s one new wrinkle in the system.  I’ll let Raketa tell you about that.”

“We have an enemy out there that we haven’t seen the likes of before,” explained Raketa.  “Whiplash is familiar with this group, which is why he’s going to be your leader.  Unlike the other squads who are fixing broken realities, you have a different job.  The only thing you’re here to do is hunt down these people and kill them.  Each of you have skills that are designed to help you with this single purpose and none of you have any qualms about getting blood on your hands.  No matter what reality they’re hiding in, I want this group destroyed.  Are we all clear on this?”

Whiplash and the rest of the group gave varying signs of agreement.  Ivan looked over his new team and decided that maybe it was the right place for him.  Although he hated lying to Bruiser and would rather she know he was safe, he didn’t want her fighting this kind of war.  Raketa was right, he didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if he needed to.

” This does not work if we are not having method of tracking,” he told Raketa.  “We cannot see enemy coming and I do not fight blind.”

“I’m working on that,” promised John as he produced what looked like some sort of homing device.  “Right now, this will be your tracking method.  It’s designed to track the energy signature of those bombs they use.  It’s a little clunky and it’s not the best but it’s a temporary measure until I can get someone with more technical expertise.  I’ve already got a good prospect lined up so don’t be surprised if you pick up a final addition to the team.”

“While those arrangements are being made, I want you in the field immediately,” ordered Raketa.

“Understood,” said Whiplash.  “I do not believe there are problems with this arrangement then.”

“Good,” she said.  “So, commander, what will you call this team?”

Whiplash thought for a moment as he looked at his motley crew of teammates and could think of only one name to give them.  It was fitting in a way that he should leave his own reality and everyone in it only to come back home to the gray area.

“We are Wild Pack and we will not stop until job is finished.”

Next Issue: Goblin initiates a recruitment drive while Rahne Sinclair begins to question her faith.