GHOSTS OF THE PAST, OMENS OF THE FUTURE

Part III

By Desmond Reddick

“Thanks, Chris.

“The air is still thick with smoke here in Midtown outside of Roxxon’s New York corporate headquarters, where only hours ago, a destructive and very violent battle took place between a vigilante team calling themselves the Liberty Legion and an unnamed adversary.

“As you can see behind me, the damage to buildings and the surrounding area is in the millions. The death toll is estimated to be close to two hundred, but the bodies are still being pulled from the building by brave men and women in our emergency services. Triage centers have been set up to indicate who of the thousands injured need the most immediate care.

“Not since Seattle has this county, or the world, seen a superhuman battle of this magnitude in an urban center. And I have to say, the opinion of our supposed saviors is pretty grim on the ground today. But the government sanctioned V-Battalion has been here the whole time since putting an end to the destruction, using their powers to help the people and secure the area.

“Clearly there are still heroes in this world, but the line is becoming much less clear. I’m Rick Leventhal. Back to you, Chris.”

“Thank you, Rick. We will continue to keep you updated from ground zero of the recent devastating superhuman battle throughout the day. And after the break we’ll take you live to Austin for a press conference by Texas Senator Robert Ralston.

“I’m Chris Wallace. Stay with us.”

“Jesus Christ!” Thin Man punched the “x” in the corner of the view screen from across the room with one long, piston-shaped finger. The screen dematerialized immediately.

“Take it easy, Bruce.” Blue Diamond spoke slowly, the exhaustion and pain from his battle with Quasimodo still rattled throughout his body.

“Why? They’re making us look like terrorists, Elton!”

“And yelling and screaming and acting like an angry lunatic is going to help our case how?”

Thin Man knew he had a point, but he was just not used to being beaten so badly. And to be talked down to by two government cronies in as many days was just the frosting on the cake. He knew that something was stirring, and when he found out, heads would roll.

Challenger sat, arms crossed, silently thinking about the events of the past few days. It was only a few short days ago he was on a mission for the V-Battalion and now he’d been fired by a team consisting mostly of operatives he had never met before. For a while, he’d felt the sea change in his life. Maybe he was naive to think that his life was establishing some sort of status quo. Or, scarily enough, chaos was the status quo.

“Look,” Blue Diamond continued after wincing from the pain, “what we need to do is convalesce. Things have been far too rapid-fire since returning to earth. We need a breather, and then we can start to wrap our heads around this.”

“Sit on our thumbs and let the press and Bill’s asshole friends treat us like we’re the goddamned Masters of Evil? Great plan, Elton!” Thin Man was pissed, and now his colleagues were too.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bruce,” Elton was on his feet and leaning into his old friend’s face, “Val’s armor is still being worked on; Bill would probably have stormed out of here by now if he wasn’t limping like Roosevelt; I can’t even turn to my diamond form since we all got our asses handed to us this morning. We. Need. Time.”

“Fine,” Thin Man said as he turned and started walking towards the door.

“Where are you going to go?” It was the first thing Challenger had said since they returned to Time’s Tower.

“Out. I’m going to do something. Everyone else on this team seems happy to lick their wounds. Well, enjoy that.” The automatic door clipped his right arm as he stormed out quicker than it could react.

Thin Man left the meeting room with Challenger and Blue Diamond looking across the table at each other. They were understandably at a loss for words.

Valentina looked at the dozens of iron and steel pieces in front of her and sighed. Inheriting Helmut Gruler’s legacy was an honor she was proud of. She only wished she had inherited his mechanical talent as well.

She had learned a lot over the years, but the intricacies of hydraulics and reconstructing sophisticated machinery from scratch without directions was still not high on the list of things she enjoyed. The Mutant Force had really done quite a job on her knee joint. For the past few days, she wanted nothing more than to rejoin her colleagues. Especially in the trying times they were going through.

Challenger hadn’t even come to talk to her since they were fired from the V-Battalion. She knew that he must have been very upset with that. The two of them had really begun to develop a great friendship. Once they were out fighting alongside each other again, they would be just fine. That was all that she was trying to concentrate on. Still, Valentina felt as though she should keep abreast of what was happening with the team.

“Do you mind if I turn on the view screen?” she asked.

Dania, working silently on upgrading her anti-gravity gun in the corner, grunted her indifference. Valentina had learned to not to take offense in response to Red Raven’s gruff nature. She was a vicious and courageous warrior who could be trusted more than any other in the field of battle. She just wasn’t a conversationalist.

On the screen, Valentina could see that an aged but stern looking man had taken his place behind a podium bearing a circular picture of a yellow star between two different branches on a sky blue background. The news ticker read: “Live: Texas Senator Robert Ralston (R) on the tragedy in New York.”

Valentina had met the man, but, as a member of the Penance Council, he was only required to meet with them to discuss procedure and get debriefs from the field captains. She found him to be a gruff man with little warmth for those he meets. Of course, her connection to Gruler made any World War II vet weary around her. It was to be expected, and she had begun to get used to it.

“As representative for this great government, I wanted first to say that our thoughts and prayers go out to the family’s of all those lost in today’s horrific tragedy.

“The dedication of the heroes in our police departments, paramedic units and firefighting squads is just one example of the great patriotism that can be found amongst even the direst of circumstances. I’m here, as well, to talk about another. For the past six decades, I have worked with a covert international team of heroes to hunt down and bring to justice to escaped Nazis and other would-be world conquerors.

“The V-Battalion is composed of heroes from World War II and their children and grandchildren: a group of families, keeping the families of the world safe. And for the better half of a century they have sought no glory. They wanted only security and stability brought to a chaotic world. But things changed today. Those brave emergency responders at the Roxxon Building were met with the world’s most elite and patriotic heroes. Together, they were able to reduce the amount of casualties greatly from the careless carnage of the so-called Liberty Legion. We, as members of the Penance Council, the V-Battalion’s ruling body, have decided that it is time to come out of the shadow and give an example to the world of what true heroism is.

“But we must be forever vigilant with whom we offer our trust. Sadly, it is easy these days to put our trust and admiration in those who don’t deserve it. This is why I will be working together with this great government and the V-Battalion to set up parameters and sanctions on any group of costumed individuals who deem themselves to be the protectors of the people.

“As we have seen in New York today, it takes more than a costume and powers to be a hero. For too long, we have allowed people with more power than they know what to do with run rampant in our streets. And, be assured, what happened this morning is no freak occurrence.

“Sadly, our recent history is littered with events like this: Los Angeles, Seattle, now New York’s Roxxon building. And what is history, recent or otherwise, if we blatantly refuse to learn from it?

“I will be putting together a think tank to figure out how to deal with these situations. But rest assured, your government is taking immediate action. The V-Battalion has been given the mandate to keep watch over public battles between super-powered operatives when bystanders are in danger.

“Thank you. I’ll take your questions, now.”

Valentina felt as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. She and her friends were being used as scapegoats in all of this. Sure, there was damage, but without the Liberty Legion, many more people would have died. She didn’t want a parade, but some recognition for putting their lives on the line might have been nice.

If Dania cared, or even heard the press conference, she didn’t let on. Her body language never showed she was bothered until they were joined by another in the workshop. It was Dania’s shoulders tensing that signalled Mongoose’s entry.

“Crazy stuff, right?” she said as she sauntered up to Valentina’s side. The fakeness oozed out of her voice and visage.

“It is only another example of media manipulation. It means nothing. Like everything else on television, it will pass.” Val was doing everything in her power to remain cool and fix her suit instead of engaging in any kind of meaningful conversation with the girl.

“Pass, like in Congress you mean! We’re toast! Superhero registration here we come.”

With that, Dania put her anti-gravity gun down on the counter and stormed out of the room, leaving Valentina to fend for herself.

“I don’t think we’re going down that road, Grace. Besides, this is all the opinion of Republicans and some right wing media corporation. We haven’t even seen a balanced approach yet.” There she went: engaging. Val shook her head for slipping up and being drawn in.

“Yeah, some Republicans including your boss. Sorry, ex-boss.” There was such calculated approach to Grace’s speech that was somewhere between a shrewd businesswoman and what Valentina imagined a catty high school girl would be.

“Is that all, Grace?”

“Sure, just let me know if you want any help with your suit. Later!”

She was gone in a gust of wind, leaving Valentina to breathe freely.

Amadeus Cho was certain that besides himself, Mr. Jameson and Mr. Robertson, there was no one else in the entire Daily Bugle Building. The city had gone to shit this morning and the entire staff was most likely blocks away on site at ground zero or crowding in front of podiums for the various press conferences going on.

Tragedies bring out the most excitement in the media. That was nothing new. And given that Mr. Robertson and Mr. Jameson were likely to be on the phone for the following twelve days straight, Amadeus was content in his solitude in the mainframe room.

He hadn’t had anything to do since the first few days on the job. He did the occasional upkeep, but, since he showed up, the telecommunications and office network ran smoothly almost one hundred percent of the time. Most people there were shocked to find out he was an intern, thinking he was being paid, and paid well, for his hard work. But not only did he not need the credit through the internship, he didn’t need the money either seeing as he had three telecommunications patents that would be sure to make him a billionaire by the age of twenty-five. Plus, it was no surprise that Mr. Jameson enjoyed cheap labor.

Amadeus had spent the entire morning compiling a database for Thin Man. The hero was under the impression that there was more than meets the eye going on, and now Amadeus knew it. His fingers flitted over the keyboard as he compiled and sorted information on one file. A window open on his desktop beside the document he was working on played the footage of the Roxxon security camera that he’d ripped from the news moments ago.

What his peripheral vision was picking up from the video was not surprising. He did not need his level of pattern recognition to see that the official video had been tampered with. He finished typing, saved and closed the file, and maximized the window with the footage on it.

In the video, the as-wide-as-he-is-tall Quasimodo stepped into frame and let loose a blast from his eye. In the aftermath, the lobby exploded and was engulfed in black smoke. From the video quality, it was easy to see that the image had been magnified and there was a very subtle but clear cut between the moment of the blast to the moment of explosion.

He picked a Snickers bar up off of the desk, opened the wrapper and took a hefty bite. As he chewed half of the chocolate bar, his right cheek bulging, he had only one thought: I need the original video.

But first, he had a phone call to make.

Ross ran full tilt around the corner by the Chinese food place his brother knocked off last year. The cops caught him that time; fifteen large in Sing Sing. But if these guys catch Ross, it’ll be the death sentence for sure.

His world crashed to a stop. Well, his head crashed into a dumpster. He’d walked that street so many times, ducking into that alley at least weekly to smoke up or sling. The dumpster was usually back farther, closer to the back door of the restaurant. Ross shook the stars out of his eyes as he thought about how a lazy garbage truck driver had just signed his death warrant.

“’Sup, Ross?” D-Tone and his crew pretty much ran these streets. They didn’t appreciate Ross and his brother’s…activities, even though they were only small-time. Ross and his brother didn’t appreciate being squeezed by a porch monkey named Dalton. It was a mutual hatred. The irony of two Irish brothers being run out of business by a black guy with an Irish name didn’t escape them.

“Out for a jog, bitch?” one of Dalton’s cronies piped up from the back of the crew, but Ross paid him no mind.

“I didn’t do shit, D-Tone. You know that, man!” Ross climbed to one knee.

“You done plenty, white boy.” D-Tone said, delivering a hard but swift kick to Ross’ chest.

Ross was thrown backwards onto the concrete. Wincing from the pain and clutching his chest with one hand, he opened his eyes to see the mouthy crony pointing a Glock at him, sideways of course. D-Tone stood beside the gunman and spoke: “And if your brother ever gets out of lockup, I got one waitin’ for him too, punk!”

The gunman’s hand tightened around the handle of the pistol and Ross’ heartbeat pumped in his own ears. It was so loud, that he couldn’t hear what saved his life. D-Tone’s men had looks of surprise on their faces and had turned their attention upwards. It was then that Ross heard the noise: a swooping.

In a flash of crimson, the gunman went down, D-Tone fell backwards, cracking his head on the pavement and the rest of his crew scrambled for guns in their coats and waistbands. In front of them, a figure clad all in red crouched with huge wings outspread. Though the figure’s back was to him, the long hair flowing from under a red headdress and her ability to fill out that bodysuit made it very clear to Ross that his savior was a woman.

In one fluid movement a golden spear, swung sideways, leg-swept one more gangsta whose face met concrete decisively. Before stopping the spear, the lady in red swung back in the opposite direction, the side of the spear tip catching another man on the side of the head. The only other one of D-Tone’s crew left standing was already sprinting away from the beat down his friends were taking.

Ross slowly stumbled to his feet while he said: “Thanks a lot. Really. Those guys were gonna kill me.”

Red Raven turned around to face Ross, but before their eyes even met, Ross was launched backwards into the brick wall behind him. The blow took the air out of him, and it was only after he tried to step forward when he realized he was pinned to the wall by the spear through the left shoulder of his jacket.

Dania slowly walked towards Ross, whose protestations fell on deaf ears. She stepped quickly and with purpose as she neared the thug. He continued to plead after knowing he couldn’t free himself from the wall.

“You saved me!” Ross repeated. Though, he sounded more like he was pleading than making a statement.

“Call it a habit,” Dania said as she reached into one of his jacket pockets, pulling out a sandwich baggie packed bulging with little white pills, each packed themselves in groups of five. Each group of five appeared to be wrapped in cling wrap. “Don’t tell me you’re just picking up your mother’s prescription.”

“We all gotta make a living, Red.”

She reached into his other pocket and produced a wad of bills.

“At least I don’t go around murdering my competition.” Ross seemed oddly proud with that statement.

“No,” Red Raven continued, “you’d prefer to kill your clientele slowly while getting as much money as you can from them, right?”

It was a rhetorical question, because Ross realized she didn’t want an answer when she dropped the money on the wet ground and threw the baggie of pills into the brick wall of the back of the Chinese food restaurant.

The pills exploded into the kind of shower Hunter S. Thompson might have taken were he still alive. They rattled to the floor, some of them still in cling wrapped groups. Those made noises like minnows being dropped on wet pavement.

“Fuck,” was all that Ross could muster.

Dania turned her attention back to the scum she had pinned to the wall.

“Because I’m nice, I’m going to let you go. But, again because I’m nice, I’m going to make it fair for everyone.” she said moving back towards him.

Ross was confused, but she looked like she was going to remove the spear that pinned him to the wall. She grasped the end of the spear and pulled down and out. The spear came out in one quick motion with the sound of rock breaking.

“What did you mean make it fair?” Ross asked poking his finger through the hole in his jacket.

“If I let you go,” Dania began, “you will definitely kill your friends over there. But they’re unconscious. So, I’m going to even the playing field.”

“Whu–?” Ross didn’t have time to voice his confusion before a red fist flashed in his eyes. Unconsciousness took over before he hit the pavement below him.

Red Raven spread her wings and lifted herself up off the ground. She turned down to Ross and said: “But those guys have a head start. Good luck!”

Her wings carried her into the open sky, her ribs still hurting as her back muscles worked the circuitry in her flight suit. But the freedom was worth it. Being cooped up with a bunch of old men and catty little girls was hardly her idea of a good time. She felt free for the first time in days, and victory, as petty as it was, did her pride good.

As she cleared the rooftops, she smiled as the open air greeted her body and, for a moment, was lost in the grandeur of the sky when a voice caught her off guard.

“Dania.” It was Thin Man. He stood on the rooftop of the Chinese restaurant watching as she took flight.

Red Raven flew over to where he stood but did not land on the flat asphalt roof. She hovered a few feet in the air and beat her wings slowly to keep herself aloft. She held her spear with two hands, in an instinctive defensive stance.

“I did what needed to be done down there.” she said. It was a simple and direct statement, spoken with force. Dania was not used to having commanding officers.

“I know you did, and I am not here to condemn you, Dania. I am here to ask you something.” Thin Man was impressed with the young girl’s stubborn inability to give even the mirage of kowtowing to a superior. She reminded him of him at that age. Hell, it reminded himself of him at his current age for that matter.

“What is it then?” she kept the brusque tone but spoke quicker. There was embarrassment there, Thin Man assumed, in being so harsh.

“I want to know if I can count on you to be as brutal in the field as you were down there. The people we will be facing in the coming days will require the most extreme of prejudices, if you catch my drift.”

“I do.”

“I knew that I could count on you.” Thin Man nodded to Dania as she took off in the opposite direction from Time’s Tower.

Thin Man turned to look at the New York skyline while thinking about the future. The phone call that Cho made only confirmed what he had already suspected. These recent events weren’t random; it was all connected.

Cho had told him that he suspected the Secret Empire. That would certainly explain the manipulation of government agencies along with super villains. But who knew how high it all went? Bruce stepped to the edge of the roof he was on, trying to block out the stench of the Chinese food that filled the air. He sighed to himself and took long rooftop-spanning steps in the direction of Time’s Tower. For the first time in his life, he was faced with a threat he wasn’t sure he could beat.

Chewing furiously on his Snickers bar, Cho watched the video of the Roxxon building attack on a loop. He knew something was off about it, but he didn’t have a clear answer yet. Since calling Thin Man, he watched it for almost two hours but no hypothesis worth investigating sprang to mind. But only when slowing the video down and paying closer attention to what looked like static or a tracking issue did he see that there was another star of the video beside Quasimodo.

He laughed at himself for thinking that tracking would be an issue when Roxxon would clearly be using digital video. He slowed the video down as well as he could. Even then, the figure was almost impossible to see. But he was able to see enough of a costumed individual Cho was sure that Thin Man would be very interested to hear about.

The bubbling of the DNA replication chambers was the only sound other than the thumping of boot heels in the large laboratory. Grey and black clad drones with partially conical upside down grey helmets made their way to and fro from project to project in the busy central laboratory.

Two of the grey drones were helping a hulking metal-skinned humanoid as it lounged back in a large, steel-reinforced chair. Its shoulder was exposed and splayed open as the two drones worked on the mechanical innards.

A rush of air could be heard above as a circular opening in the ceiling of the grand warehouse laboratory dilated and opened. Another strange humanoid hovered down through the hole as the metallic one met his gaze.

“You do know that I can do this on my own, don’t you?” Quasimodo spoke as the drones continued to work on his shoulder. They paid him no mind because they knew he wouldn’t deign to speak to them.

“Ja.” The voice was tinged in a heavy German accent and sounded as though it came through PA speakers, and not a wide Cheshire Cat grin-plastered, wrinkled, oversized face. “Viz our engineers, zere ees little to vorry about.”

“Very true.”

“Lie back, run some algorzims und all vill be güt,” the mysterious humanoid said as he turned to hover over to where other drones were conducting an experiment with a taser capable of incapacitating an entire crowd of people.

“As you wish.” Quasimodo laid back and allowed the drones to continue.

“Zen vee vill begin zee next phase.”

The strange German-accented fellow hovered over to the group of engineers who stood before a pit full of cowering men. The men were of the dark-skinned variety and had been pilfered from Guantanamo Bay earlier in the week. Three grey-suited drones stood monitoring levels on a digital readout tablet while a sole drone stood at the edge of the pit holding the large, bazooka-shaped taser.

The man holding the tablet gave a verbal “Okay” to let the man holding the taser know they were ready. He exhaled as he pulled the trigger. The thick steel trigger drew back with a heavy CLICK and an electric net was thrown over the men in the pit.

ZZZZAM!

There was a short cacophony of screams and grunts from the pit, but by the time the net disappeared, there was little left but a pile of unconscious bodies. Quasimodo saw none of it; he did, however, discern what had happened when he heard the disturbance followed by the shrill German laugh amplified and echoed through the rafters of the large, sterile warehouse laboratory.

NEXT ISSUE: So, now that the first arc of the returned Liberty Legion is over, the team finally gets some rest. Join us next time for their annual barbeque and softball game. Just kidding. Next issue, things get way worse as battles heat up, a traitor is revealed, and tyranny rears its ugly head. We’re just getting started…