Hell’s Kitchen

Josie’s Bar. Specifically, in the back room where a gathering of ne’er-do-wells was in progress. Many of the men seated here were dressed in sharp, pinstripe Italian suits. Finely tailored. All of them had their attention focused on one man, a man whose hair shined brightly beneath the dim lights. More than just styling product, however, his hair was actually made from metal.

“Awright, lissen up an’ lissen good, ‘cuz I’m only explainin’ this once,” he said. “For those of you who don’t know—an’ if you don’t, shame on you—my name’s Hammerhead. Yer all here ‘cuz of one reason an’ one reason alone—the Kingpin’s dead.”

Chatter burst out in the room with some protesting and some cheering. Hammerhead threw his head down into the table, shattering it into splinters. It was enough of an effect to quiet the room once more.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now I know you’ve all heard th’ rumors, that Fisk isn’t really dead, ‘cuz I’ve heard ‘em, too. But fact is—he ain’t around no more. That means it’s open season out here. An’ that means if someone don’t step in t’ fill the void, we’re gonna have a war on our hands. An’ not just us, I’m talkin’ the freaks as well. Word is the Owl’s already got designs on the Kingpin’s throne. An’ who knows what the hell’s goin’ on with whatever Goblin-of-the-week there is now. Then we got this new guy, calls himself the Hood. He’s been small-time, but he’s ambitious an’ he’s got power. Then there’s the Maggia an’ I know none’a you wanna see those ginny bastards in charge.”

“So what do you propose?” asked one guy.

“It’s simple,” said Hammerhead. “We strike now while the iron’s hot an’ people are too busy tryin’ t’ figure out which way to piss. We step into the Kingpin’s place, declare New York ours before it’s too late.”

“And who would the new Kingpin be?”

Hammerhead leaned back in his chair and straightened his suit. “Me, of course.”

Shouts of protest, louder than before filled the air.

“Who the hell you think you are?”

“You ain’t no Kingpin!”

“You’re as much a freak as the rest of those costumed fucks!”

“SHUT YER MOUTHS!” exclaimed Hammerhead. The room quieted down again. “Now lissen, I was the one who came up with this idea. None’a you had the foresight to call this meetin’. Since I did, that means I got dibs. Anyone here thinks they can do better’n me, yer welcome to step up t’ the plate.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“Who the fuck said that?” asked Hammerhead.

“I did,” a man pushed through the crowd. His skin was dark, his hair and goatee black. His eyes, however, were black as well. With glowing, red pupils. He wore a fine suit, just like the others, but black lightning crackled around his left hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name’s Diego Casseas and I represent the Folding Circle.”

“Never heard’a youse,” said Hammerhead.

“You will, soon,” said Casseas. “You see, my cohorts and I, we’re taking control of the Kingpin’s empire.”

Laughter filled the room and Casseas just stood and smiled, waiting for it to subside.

“You delusional or somethin’?” asked Hammerhead.

“Actually no, my eyes are wide open. Dying has that effect on a man.” Casseas extended his left hand towards Hammerhead. “Would you like to try it? I promise you, it can be quite liberating.”

“I dunno who the hell you think you are, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some street punk slide in here an’ try to muscle me outta what’s rightfully mine!”

“Oh, but I’m not doing it here,” said Casseas with a sly grin. “I’m merely the messenger.”

“Whaddaya mean?” asked one of the suits.

“It’s simple,” said Casseas. “While you’re all here in your little clubhouse, my teammates have been out there. Destroying your businesses, killing your men, leaving no stone unturned as they reduce your empires to nothing.”

“He’s full of it,” said Hammerhead. “If he was serious, we would’ve heard somethin’ by now.”

Casseas smiled again. “Five… four… three… two… one.”

Almost on cue, cell phones in the room began to go off one by one. Casseas simply stood, the smile never leaving his face. “You might want to answer that. Never know when an important call might come in.”

Each of the mobsters who answered their phones heard something similar. Their men were dying, businesses were being burned to the ground—casinos, brothels, private clubs. Things were completely chaotic. Some reports were of a woman who could control fire. Others were of a man with superhuman strength. Others of a man whose speed and fighting prowess was enough to take on ten men at once. And finally, reports of a psychotic animal of some sort with razor-sharp claws.

Casseas grabbed a chair and sat down, crossing his legs.

“Now then… shall we talk business?”

FULL CIRCLE

Part I: Opening Salvo

By Dino Pollard

Queens

“Johnny…”

“Mmmm…”

“Johnny…”

“Mmmm…”

“JOHNNY!”

“Mmfff!”

Johnny Gallo was awakened by a pillow slapping his face. His heavy eyelids slowly rose up and he looked through platinum blond strands of hair that hung in his face to see his girlfriend, Kathy, sitting on the bed, glaring at him.

“What, what did I do now?” he asked.

“For starters, you snore like a gutted boar,” said Kathy.

“I know, I was doing it on purpose,” said Johnny.

“Why, to annoy me and keep me up all night?”

“No, it’s… umm… a security system,” said Johnny. “People won’t break in when they hear what sounds like an animal behind the door.”

Kathy rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Kath, c’mon, gimme a break,” said Johnny. “It’s… I don’t know what time it is, but it’s damn early.”

“It’s noon.”

“Right, on a Friday, when I don’t have class!” said Johnny. “There’s no such thing as noon on a Friday! There’s noon on a Thursday night, but not on a Friday morning.”

“Pathetic,” said Kathy.

Johnny sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around Kathy’s waist. “C’mon babe, what’s the matter?”

Kathy sighed. “Remember that show you were on?”

“You mean that Marvels show? What about it?”

“Why didn’t you say you were a mutant?”

Johnny rolled over onto his side. “Not this again…”

“I’m serious, why did you lie about how you got your powers?” asked Kathy.

“Kath please, I’m not in the mood to have this conversation for the umpteenth time.”

“Why are you so afraid of what you really are?” asked Kathy.

Johnny sat up. “Look, not everyone likes being a mutant, okay?”

Kathy shrugged. “That Gravity guy seems okay with it.”

“Gravity’s a douchebag,” said Johnny. “I just don’t think now’s a good time to come out of the genefreak closet. Especially when you’ve got mutant terrorists running around these days, attacking CNN.”

“That’s why you should come out,” said Kathy. “People need to see a positive face attached to mutants, and not just a few Avengers here and there. Especially people our age. Imagine how many mutants there are who are hiding because they’re scared—they need someone to guide them.”

“Y’know, you’re in the wrong major, Kath—you should really consider motivational speaking.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working on you.”

“There’s not a lot that can motivate me.”

“Apparently…” muttered Kath.

“Oh Jesus, Kath, what do you want me to say?” asked Johnny. “Yeah, I’m scared of telling people I’m a mutant. Yeah, it’s a tough deal for me. And yeah, other mutants should be scared, too. A few months ago, things were going great, but now it’s getting more and more difficult for mutants. If we have to hide for a bit, then let us hide. It’s not like it’s your ass on the line.”

Kathy turned away from him, remaining silent. Johnny looked up at her.

“Kath…?”

He sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, Kath—”

She stood from the bed and started to pull on her jeans. Johnny sat up even further.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my place,” she said.

“Oh c’mon,” said Johnny. “Baby, I’m sorry I snapped, okay? This is just a really sensitive subject for me and—”

“Forget about it,” she said, buttoning her blouse.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, forget it,” said Kathy. “I’m sorry I tried to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Well… I’m glad you see it my way…” began Johnny. “…but why are you leaving?”

“Because I’m getting tired of this,” said Kathy.

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of waiting for you to grow up, Johnny,” she said. “This is your third year and you’re still undeclared. You can’t even accept who you really are. And I just can’t be with someone like that. Not anymore.”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something.

“Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong,” she said.

He turned his head away.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. She grabbed her jacket and walked out the door. “Call me once you’ve gotten through puberty.”

Midtown High School

“It’s important to address the root causes of crime as well as the crime itself. For example, during the 1920s, prohibition was enacted because people feared the degradation of society as a result of alcohol. But by criminalizing alcohol, they gave rise to organized crime. People wanted alcohol and if they couldn’t get it legally, then they would get it illegally and the mob was happy to provide it. There’s a similar argument, although not on as large a scale, going on today. Does anyone know what that argument is focused on?”

The class remained silent as the teacher stood in front of them and spoke.

“Anyone?”

Still, no one spoke.

“Bueller… Buelller…” said the teacher. His eyes scanned across the room and they fell upon a student in the back row. “Ah Mr. Baldwin, do you have an answer for us?”

Robbie Baldwin was slumped in his desk, his head resting against the wall behind him. His eyes were shut, his mouth was open, and drool began to form at the side of his lips.

“Mr. Baldwin!”

He picked up the teacher’s edition textbook and slammed it onto his desk. The loud noise startled Robbie and caused him to instantly awake.

“Fin Fang Foom!” he cried out.

The class all laughed, save for the teacher who simply crossed his arms, unamused.

“Mr. Baldwin, could you please answer the question?”

Robbie fidgeted in his seat. “Umm… yeah… sure, no problem. The answer is… uhh… umm…”

He opened his notebook to find nothing but doodles labeled ‘new costume designs’ and scratched his head. He looked up at the teacher.

“Uhh… what class is this again?”

The students all burst out into laughter. But the teacher simply shook his head. He walked over to his desk and pulled out a small pad of hall passes. He scribbled something on it and motioned for Robbie to come forward.

Robbie looked to his left and right and then carefully pointed at himself and the teacher nodded. Robbie stood, collecting his backpack and notebook and marched towards the front of the class, his head hanging low. Once he reached the desk, the teacher tore the pass free and handed it to him.

“I think you can explain to the dean why I sent you down, can’t you?”

Robbie looked down at his feet. “Yes, sir…”

Empire State University

Johnny Gallo walked through the cafeteria, looking around at the various food vendors. Nothing he saw seemed even remotely appetizing. He continued on his trek, moving past the various tables.

“Johnny!”

He looked up and saw a familiar face waving to him. Janice Yanizeski, but he knew her better as Joystick. One of his teammates from the New Warriors. Another woman sat with her, she had light, purple skin and bright pink hair with what looked like pink tattoos on her face. She, too, looked familiar—Clarice Ferguson, former mutant adventurer called Blink. Johnny fought by her side once a few months ago against a crazed killer named Bushwacker.

He approached the table and took a seat.

“You seem cheery,” said Janice.

“Rough morning,” said Johnny.

“Seems like it,” said Janice. “Johnny, this is Clarice. Otherwise known as the reason I’m passing sociology.”

“We’ve met,” said Johnny.

Clarice raised an eyebrow. “Have we?”

“Yeah, we—” Johnny paused, remembering that he only met her while in costume. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“You meet lots of girls with pink hair and purple skin?” asked Clarice.

“I-I spend a lot of time in the Village,” said Johnny.

“Ahh…” said Clarice, slowly nodding.

“I thought you didn’t have classes on Friday,” said Janice.

“I don’t,” said Johnny. “But I—I just needed to get out of the house, y’know. Thought I’d come down here and get something to eat.”

“Here?” asked Clarice, motioning with her thumb back to the cafeteria lines. “They don’t have restaurants in Queens?”

Johnny shrugged. “Dunno what I was thinking, really.”

“…Clarice, can you excuse us for a moment?” asked Janice.

Clarice nodded. “Sure, I think I hear my phone ringing anyway…”

The young mutant stood and left the table. Once she was gone, Janice placed a hand on Johnny’s. “Rico, what’s up?”

Johnny looked up at her. “First off, don’t call me that in public,” he said. “Second, why do you care?”

She shrugged. “Look… if you’re going to watch my back, I don’t want you moping around. That’s all.”

“Compassionate ‘til the last.”

“What do you want from me, I used to be a supervillain,” she said. “Seriously, what’s up?”

Johnny rubbed his hands together nervously as he looked around the cafeteria. He sighed and avoided Janice’s eyes as he said, “it’s my girlfriend.”

“What about her?” she asked. “Did something happen to her?”

“No, it’s…” he sighed. “She dumped me this morning, okay?”

“Oh…” said Janice. “I’m… I’m sorry, Johnny… Did she give a reason?”

“Yeah,” said Johnny. “Said I need to grow up. Need to apply myself. And that I’ve got some self-loathing thing about being a…”

He stopped.

Janice motioned for him to continue. “A… what?”

He looked around again and leaned in closer to her when he whispered, “a mutant.”

“Oh…” Janice leaned back in her seat. “Well… did you ever think that maybe she’s got a point…?”

Johnny’s head snapped up. “Excuse you?”

Janice shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe there’s some truth in what she told you.”

“Right, whatever,” said Johnny. He stood up from the chair. “I’m outta here, I need to hit the rooftops, clear my head.”

“Johnny wait, I didn’t mean it like—”

He stormed from the table, nearly knocking Clarice down as he walked past her. She looked at him for a moment before she went back to the table, retaking her seat by Janice.

“What was that all about?” asked Clarice.

Janice sighed. “He just got dumped.”

“Shit…!”

Mattie Franklin nearly collapsed at the sight before her. Her hand went to the bathroom sink and she used it to steady herself. A knock came on the door.

“Babe, everything okay in there?”

The voice belonged to Greg Willis, her teammate and boyfriend. Friday night she stayed over at his place. Now, Saturday morning, she realized she couldn’t avoid this anymore. The morning sickness was the first clue that something was wrong. And now…

She opened the door and saw Greg smiling at her. “Hey… what’s up?”

“Greg, we have to talk…” she said, moving past him.

“Okay…” said Greg, his eyes following her as she sat on the bed. He followed her and sat by her side. “Talk about what?”

“This,” she said, holding up a small, white piece of plastic. At the end of it was a tiny window that had turned blue.

Greg took it in his hand and looked at it carefully. “What’s this?”

Mattie sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this…”

Greg looked at her. “Say what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

WAR ROOM

Okay, this is more like it. Again, I have to apologize for the last story-arc, it wasn’t going the way I wanted and it turned out nothing like I envisioned. Because of that disappointment, I went back and reevaluated the rough plans I sketched out for this book a few years ago and for the most part, threw them out. I kept the main ideas, no question about that. But I constructed new stories around them and plotted things out a bit more firmly for the next few arcs.

And it seems to have paid off. So far, “Full Circle” is off to a great start. This is an arc I’ve been looking forward to doing for a while, as well as pulling together some dangling plot threads that have been percolating over the past twenty issues. This was probably my favorite issue to write in a long time, and I hope the stuff happening in here both addresses some of the long-standing subplots as well as whets your appetite for what’s to come.

Things are going to kick into high-gear from this point on, with the Warriors dealing both with internal and external crises. Basically, things have been too good for these guys, so it’s time to shake things up.

And I hope you’re as pumped about what’s to come as I am!

-Dino Pollard