The Infiltrator

GW Bridge entered the war room on the Infiltrator to find his team gathered around the meeting table. He sat in his seat looking across the table at the Black Knight as he sipped his coffee.

“I trust you all slept well.”

“Might have if someone didn’t wake us up at the crack of dawn…” muttered the 3-D Man.

“The bad guys don’t keep regular hours so neither do we,” said Bridge.

“What’s the job?” asked the Black Knight.

Bridge pushed a switch on his armrest. A holographic projection of rocky, mountainous terrain appeared above the table. “Extremists in the Gulmira area have gained access to some pretty dangerous tech, stuff that’s far beyond their means. Intelligence suggests an AIM splinter group, called Advanced Genocide Mechanics, might be supplying them. Your job is to get in there and stop these extremists before they turn a forest fire into a mushroom cloud.”

“What sort of tech are we looking at?” asked Deathlok.

“Looks like they’ve gotten their hands on repulsors,” said Bridge. “Mostly low-end stuff, nothing on par with Stark’s suit. But still far worse than the stuff they already had.”

“No need to send the whole team, boss. I can handle this in my sleep,” said Parnell Jacobs.

“You’re not going.”

Parnell leaned forward. “S’cuse me?”

“You heard me, Jacobs—you’re sitting this one out. This is a volatile situation and the last thing I need is you turning it into a massive clusterfuck.” Bridge faced the Black Knight. “Whitman, use your tech on this op instead of the mystical stuff. We want to try and keep things on as low of a key as possible. You and Garrett are on crowd control. Endo, Century, and Truman should handle most of the heavy lifting. And Belova and Grey, I want you to use your persuasion on any prisoners to find out more on AGM. Let’s see if we can stay one step ahead of these bastards.”

He disabled the projection. “You’ve all got your roles to play. Move out to the teleportation dock and get moving.”

Force Works rose and left the room, with the exception of Jacobs who remained seated. His cold gaze was fixed on his commanding officer, who didn’t seem to mind the glare one bit.

“If you’ve got something to say, you might as well spit it out,” said Bridge.

“So I take it I’ve got permission to speak freely, sir?” asked Parnell, accenting the last word as if it were an insult.

“If that’s the game you wanna play then yes. Permission granted, soldier.”

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” asked Parnell. “You and I both know I’m the best weapon you’ve got against low-grade Iron Men. So give me one good reason why I’m left behind.”

“Like I told you, it’s a volatile situation and I want collateral damage kept to a minimum. But more than that, I’ve got another job for you in the Philippines,” said Bridge. “One which is a bit more high profile and since you’re running around with the same name and armor as a pretty well-known superhero, that might help us get some PR out of this op. And some positive exposure will give us some more freedom to operate on the underside.”

“What sort of job?”

“There’s been a series of suicide bombings lately in the Philippines. I want you to go in and find out who’s behind them and why.”

“I’m calling bullshit. Whitman’s got far more cred in the hero department than me and he can easily tackle this job solo. So why don’t you tell me the real reason?”

“Fine,” said Bridge. “You’re a loose cannon, Jacobs. You get the job done but you do it loudly even when silence is definitely an option. That could make you a liability later on down the line and I don’t want that. So this is your chance to prove that you’re more than just bluster, bombs and bullets.”

“Maybe so,” said Parnell as he stood up. “But remember this much—you signed me up knowing full well what I do and how I do it. Don’t let the tiger out of the cage if you don’t want him stirring shit up.”

WARZONE

By Hunter Lambright and Dino Pollard

War Machine rocketed over Manila, finding a large gathering of youths outside of a university. They were protesting the current Arroyo regime, which had presided over a 70% increase in tuition costs.

“Just perfect, gotta come here and keep an eye out for some nutcase a New Warrior could stop,” muttered Parnell beneath his helmet. He activated the suit’s scanners to pick up anything in the background he might miss. “Damn Bridge is outta his mind. Loose cannon my ass, just because I like what I do doesn’t make me a loose cannon.”

The suit’s computer flashed an alert message across Parnell’s retina. He focused in on the source, the suit’s cameras magnifying the image of a man moving through the crowd. The man was wearing something but it wasn’t a simple bomb strapped to his chest. Something far more advanced.

Parnell ran the file through his database and within moments a reference came up. The rig appeared to be very similar to the Living Bombs, a group the Avengers once went up against.

War Machine rocketed down towards the protest. His scanners locked onto the Living Bomb but he didn’t fire any weapons, not even non-lethal ones. Instead, he changed his direction at the last moment but not before he grabbed the bomber and took him into the air. Once at a high altitude, War Machine held the bomber by the neck, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me who you’re working for and how you got your hands on that tech,” said War Machine.

The Living Bomb’s mouth broke into a wide grin and War Machine had a look of confusion beneath the faceplate. “Somethin’ funny, jackass? Let’s see if you’re still smilin’ once I beat the holy hell outta you.”

The Living Bomb’s hand moved quickly and activated the detonator. His harness exploded, knocking War Machine from the sky. The cameras went offline and Parnell was left with only the eye slots of the faceplate to see out of. He plummeted towards the ground, the computer blaring a siren into his ear but not responding to his commands.

Parnell could have sworn a flash of red and white swooped by his vision but couldn’t be sure. Then, he stopped with a jerk and found he was being carried upward. He tried to move his head to get a glimpse of his savior but all he could see was a red cape billowing against his eyes.

When he was set down in a secluded area, he finally saw the person who had rescued him. A young Filipino man dressed in a white costume with a red cape and helmet hovered a few feet above the ground in front of him, his arms crossed.

“I saw what you did back there,” said the man. “Thank you.”

“For what, gettin’ caught in the middle of an explosion?” asked War Machine.

“Your armor, is it okay?”

“More or less, the explosion caused a reboot but it’s cycling up now. A diagnostics check will see if there are any other problems but I think it’ll fine.” War Machine looked the man up and down once more. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Red Feather, leader of the Triumph Division.”

“The hell’s that?”

Red Feather smirked. “You Americans aren’t the only country with superheroes, you know.”

“Whatever,” said War Machine. “Anything you can tell me about these guys? They were using tech from some old Avengers’ villains. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“We’ve been looking into these suicide bombings lately but haven’t had many leads yet,” said Red Feather. “From the remains of one of the bombers though, we were able to recover enough of the harness to find some sort of link.”

“And?”

“There’s a factory inland that produces some of the parts used in the harness. It’s not much but it’s all we’ve got at the moment,” said Red Feather. “I hadn’t expected the Avengers to send a representative, though.”

“I’m no Avenger.”

“But I recognize you. War Machine, right? You used to be an Avenger.”

“Different guy,” said War Machine. “I’m the new and improved model, Red.”

“The rest of the Triumphs are on an assignment in Thailand at the moment, I chose to stay behind to continue my investigation here. If you’re interested in getting to the bottom of this as well, I could use the extra firepower.”

“Lead the way.”

The factory was a short flight away, and during the trip, War Machine was more than a little surprised that Red Feather was able to keep pace with him. The Triumph Division’s leader had quite a bit of speed behind him, and also had to be possessed of a not-insignificant portion of superhuman strength to be able to heft Parnell, armor and all, after the Living Bomb’s attack.

War Machine approached the factory’s loading bay and tore the large door open. Red Feather stood behind, his arms crossed. “So who are you?”

“Thought we already went through that.”

“Yes, but you’re not the same War Machine who worked with the Avengers. Did you know the original?”

“Long time ago,” said War Machine.

“And he bequeathed his identity to you?”

War Machine entered through the hole he made in the door. “Not exactly. For all I know, he might still be in the game.” He looked over his shoulder, his armor’s targeting system already zeroing in on Red Feather just in case. “Why are you so curious?”

Red Feather shrugged. “The Triumph Division mostly remains in Asia. You American superheroes are an inspiration to us, but few have ever actually met you.”

“Yeah, so who you guys usually run into?”

“We’ve worked with Big Hero 6 and the Winter Guard on a few occasions.”

“Gotta admit some surprise on my part,” said War Machine. As he spoke, he looked over the factory. His scanners tried to search for anything that might be useful. “Didn’t even know the Philippines had any superheroes.”

“We just came together last year,” said Red Feather.

“How’d you get your powers?”

Red Feather just smiled. “How did you get your armor?”

War Machine huffed. “Fair enough. Fuck the smalltalk. We got work to do.”

“You find anything?” asked Red Feather.

The armor’s sensors picked up something interesting. War Machine moved over to one of the crates and tore the top off. Inside were components of the Living Bomb’s gear. “Think we hit the jackpot.” He turned on Red Feather, the shoulder-mounted gatling gun zeroing in on the Filipino.

“What are you doing?” asked Red Feather.

“Somethin’ struck me as interesting,” said War Machine. “You conveniently show up after the Bombs attack, just in time to save my bacon. You’ve got a ‘lead’ on this place, which just so happens to be the same place where the parts are bein’ stored. Way I see it, that means there are two explanations. Could be I’m just one lucky motherfucker to meet up with a cat like you. Or could be you’re workin’ an angle.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” said Red Feather. “The real culprits…”

“I’m officially bored with you.” The gatling gun spun at a rapid pace, firing off round after round of lethal ammunition. To War Machine’s surprise, however, the Red Feather moved with an incredible speed, able to easily dodge the bullets.

He moved too fast for War Machine’s sensors to get a lock and in an instant, Red Feather got the drop on the former mercenary. Red Feather’s fists connected with the armor, knocking War Machine back by several paces. The Filipino was a crimson and white blur, striking at War Machine in different parts.

The wall blew in and nine men dressed in black jumpsuits carrying machine guns and wearing weapon harnesses stood at the hole. Each of them wore helmets with blue lenses and a symbol on the forehead that featured the silhouette of a dog within a yellow oval. The Red Feather backed off his assault and stood flanked by the new arrivals.

“So what’s this all about?” asked War Machine. “Just softenin’ me up?”

“Something like that,” said Red Feather. “I’ll let the Dogs of War handle the rest.”

War Machine knew he recognized the symbols on their helmets from his mercenary days. In the early days of SHIELD, the Dogs of War were hired by what would become Roxxon to bring down Stark Industries. They’d been pretty quiet in the intervening years, mostly sticking to security contracts.

The Dogs, powered by jetpacks attached to their harnesses, surrounded War Machine. Before he could target all of them, they sprayed some sort of energy dust from their harnesses. The armor began reporting complications as the dust clogged the joints of the armor. Warnings flashed in Parnell’s retina and every step he made just seemed to quicken the process until he couldn’t move at all. His systems began to go into shut-down mode, but before they did, he managed to send out one final transmission: “Send in the big gun.”

The armor shut down and began to disassemble. With Parnell now vulnerable, the Red Feather took him down with a simple blow to the head. As Parnell fell unconscious, he saw the Dogs moving past Red Feather and felt them pulling him free of the armor.

Parnell awoke suspended from metal cables, strung up against the side of a wall. Red Feather and the Dogs of War stood before him. Parnell noticed that two of the Dogs were busy examining his disassembled armor.

“I have to say, this worked out better than we could have hoped,” said Afghan, one of the Dogs.. “Who knew we’d get our hands on some Starktech on this job?”

“So what’s the story here, Feather? Turnin’ on your own country?” asked Parnell.

“I got a better offer,” said the Red Feather. “The Dogs of War needed protection while they ran their tests. In return, I get a cut of their profits.”

“So the Living Bombs? You’re testin’ ‘em out here?” asked Parnell.

“Our employer insisted on it,” said Rottweiler. “Run a test in the Philippines before usin’ them in a country where profit returns could be higher.”

“Right. Like a politically unstable, yet oil-rich country?” asked Parnell with a snide grin. “Roxxon, right? Manipulating events to jack up the price?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Afghan.

“Why do we still have this guy alive anyway?” asked Doberman. “We got what we needed from him, time to just end this.”

Parnell began to chuckle at this statement, which only angered Doberman further. He pushed the barrel of his gun against Parnell’s neck. “What are you laughing at, smartass? We got you dead to rights.”

“I’m laughin’ ‘cause I’m expectin’ back-up,” said Parnell.

“Yeah well, your back-up is gonna find you in pieces,” said Doberman.

“Oh really?” asked Parnell.

At that moment, something crashed through the roof of the factory and landed on the ground, generating a small quake with its impact. It was a far larger and bulkier version of Parnell’s armor, the tank-like attachment he had used when he first donned the suit. The Dogs of War began to open fire on the behemoth, but it ignored them, instead targeting the bonds which held its pilot. Parnell pulled free and climbed into the armor’s open palm, and was then lifted towards the chest cavity. The compartment opened up and Parnell climbed inside the pilot’s seat, the armor closing up around him once more.

The Dogs of War attempted to use their energy dust again, but this new armor was too large to properly clog the joints. Their cables and firearms proved similarly ineffective. Parnell used the armor’s targeting system to lock on to each of the Dogs and let loose with a barrage of heat-seeking missiles that instantly took them out.

Red Feather barreled through the flames, slamming into the War Machine’s head. He was too fast for Parnell to catch in the far more mobile suit. This tank-like version, although far more destructive, also heavily lacked in the speed department.

Parnell activated the thrusters attached to the boots and the rear of the suit, slowly hovering out of the hole the armor created on its entrance. Red Feather slammed into him again, but Parnell waited, biding his time. Whether or not the Red Feather was aware of it, he left a trail behind him, radiated a unique energy signature. Once the suit had a lock on the signature, the War Machine let loose with everything he had, leveling the factory and Red Feather with it.

The Infiltrator

Bridge paused the video feed on the news reports of devastation in the Philippines. He turned in his chair to face Parnell. The former mercenary reclined in the chair before Bridge’s desk, his feet propped on the surface. Despite Bridge’s dour expression, Parnell didn’t appear to have a care in the world.

“You wanna tell me what was going through your mind?” asked Bridge. “I sent you in there to diffuse a violent situation. Get some goodwill on us so we can operate under the radar for a bit. And what did you do? You turned it into a total clusterfuck and killed the top hero in the Philippines.”

“I told you, Feather was corrupt.”

“That’s not how it looks to the rest of the world. Everyone thinks of War Machine as a terrorist now,” said Bridge. “This is going to make our lives a lot more difficult.”

Parnell stood from his chair and leaned over the desk. “Stuff it, Bridge. You knew what you signed up for when you asked me to join this outfit. I am a War Machine—get used to it.”

NEXT: Widow’s Bite