Morning in the Gallo home. Jeffrey Gallo opened the front door and stepped out to pick up the morning edition of the Daily Bugle from the driveway. He wore a pair of khakis and a white dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned, his long white hair pulled back in a ponytail. He took the paper inside and dropped it on the kitchen table while he poured himself a cup of coffee.

He slid the paper out of the plastic wrapping and adjusted the glasses over his eyes. The headline read, “ALIEN CULT LEADER KIDNAPS PRESIDENT.” He shook his head and sipped his coffee, scanning over the details of the alien criminal who called himself Noh-Varr. Another article mentioned the break-outs of various superhuman prisons, and how the world’s heroes were doing their best to contain the mess. No sign of either the west or east coast Avengers.

“Guess they’re never around when you need ’em…” muttered Gallo.

He turned the page and began scanning through the various headlines. One of the headlines in particular caught his eye. It read, “YOUNG HEROES SAVE TAYLOR FOUNDATION.” There was a photograph attached to it as well, featuring six young men and women in costumes. He glanced over the picture, and although the article mentioned no names of the young heroes, he noticed one of them. A young man dressed in blue and white spandex with a leather jacket. His facemask left his platinum blond hair exposed, and his arm was lined with gold discs that had a stylized R on them.

Gallo closed the paper and stood from the table. He put brought the paper with him as he walked up the flight of stairs and stepped up to a closed door with a “DO NOT ENTER” sticker over it. He knocked on the door and no answer came. He opened the door and saw his son sleeping soundly beneath the covers. Gallo flicked the light switch and his son cringed and covered his face with a pillow.

“Go ‘way… I don’t have class until noon…”

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you Johnny?” asked Gallo.

“What are you talking about?” asked Johnny. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “What’s this all about?”

“Here,” replied Gallo. He dropped the newspaper on the bed and Johnny picked it up. “Flip to page three.”

Johnny opened the paper and scanned the third page. He noticed the same headline his father had, as well as the photograph. He looked up at his father, who sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I thought you put all that in the past.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t,” said Johnny. “Look, do we really gotta talk about this now?”

“No… no I guess not,” said Gallo. He picked up the paper. “It can wait, I suppose. I should probably get to work anyway.”

“Good, ’cause I gotta try and get some more sleep,” said Johnny. He laid back down and his father turned off the light.

“Have a good day, Johnny,” said his father before closing the door.

An Empire Tie-In

BUSHWACKED

By Dino Pollard

It was a good day for the inmates at Ryker’s Island. It began like any other day, with the inmates being shuffled down to the cafeteria from their cells for their breakfast. Ten o’clock on the dot, as always. During the middle of the meal, a fight had broken out between two of the inmates. Something about one stiffing the other on cigarettes from a poker game. They started to go at it, and the guards broke it up before any real damage could be done, or before any real enjoyment could be derived from viewing the tussel.

That was when the lights started flickering on and off.

Both the inmates and the guards were shocked at this, which only helped show the inmates that whatever it was, it wasn’t planned. The guards were in the same boat as they were, and that made each and every one of them smile to himself. The true shock, however, came from the loud noise that caught their attention — a noise like a wrecking ball striking the side of a building. Because that’s what it was.

A large, gaping hole appeared in the wall. Crusher Creel, the Absorbing Man, stood in the new doorway, his trademark wrecking ball hanging from his hand. Guards moved quickly to open fire on him, but they were knocked over by a wave of sand, courtesy of Flint Marko, the aptly-named Sandman.

The inmates quickly turned on the guards, relishing in their opportunity to lash out at their jailers. Punches were thrown, guns and batons were stolen, and alarms blared. Before the appropriate reinforcements could arrive, however, a majority of the inmates had already fled the prison and were well on their way to freedom.

One of the inmates held a .45 he stole from a guard. He ejected the clip and tossed the gun to the side. He looked down at his right arm, and then down at the magazine. He loaded the clip into his arm and rearranged his malleable hand so his finger formed a barrel.

The assassin known as Bushwacker was free. And he planned to celebrate.

The Crash Pad

“WHAAAAAAAT?!?”

The voice that echoed through the Crash Pad belonged to Robbie Baldwin. Possessed of a kinetic field that protects him from harm, Robbie became the sensational Speedball, one of the founding members of the New Warriors. Alongwith his teammate, Rage, the two of them are the only members of the latest New Warriors who were part of the previous incarnation. They were asked by Dwayne Taylor, who formed the original team as Night Thrasher, to keep an eye on this new team.

“C’mon dude, you can’t be serious!” he said into the phone receiver.

{{ I’m sorry, Robbie, but I can’t, }} said the young man on the other end of the phone.

“But dude, the Warriors need you,” said Speedball. “I mean, you’re Hindsight Lad!”

{{ That was a long time ago. }}

The man on the other end of the phone was speaking to Robbie from his dorm room at MIT. His real name was Carlton LaForge, and at one time, he served on the New Warriors as Hindsight Lad, providing the team with his technical expertise.

{{ I appreciate that you asked me to help out, but I’ve got other priorities. I’m doing a lot this semester, and I’m not even in New York anymore. But it’s great to hear that the Warriors are back in business again. You’ll say hi to the old gang for me, right? }}

“Err… well, it’s not really the old gang…” said Speedball.

{{ Huh? }}

“Well, Rage is with the team, and I am, obviously,” said Speedball. He reclined in the chair and perched his feet on the console. “And Thrash… sort of, but he’s not in costume anymore. The rest are all new guys.”

{{ New guys? Like who? }}

“There’s this chick who calls herself Spider-Woman–”

{{ Whoa, Spider-Woman?! Which one, the redhead or the one with black hair? }}

“Umm… neither,” said Speedball. “She should probably be called Spider-Girl — she’s like, fifteen. And then there’s this guy named Gravity. We’ve got a robot who calls himself Machine Teen.”

{{ Hey, I like that name. }}

“Psh, it’s not as good as Speedball.”

{{ Or Hindsight Lad. }}

“Let’s not go crazy,” said Robbie. “Then we’ve got a guy named Ricochet, who kinda reminds me of Spider-Man. And some chick named Joystick. And then, the leader is this guy who’s really weird, kinda like how Thrash used to be. All dark and mysterious, calls himself–”

“He calls himself Patriot.”

Robbie practically fell over in the chair, but he stopped himself and sat upright. The voice, obviously, belonged to Patriot, who had silently entered the room without Robbie even noticing him.

“Hey Carlton, can I call you later?” asked Speedball.

{{ Yeah, sure. }}

“Alright, later,” said Speedball. He hung up the phone and stood from the chair.

“Who was that?” asked Patriot.

“Thr–Dwayne asked me to call him,” replied Speedball. “He used to be the Warriors’ tech guy. Dwayne was hoping he could come back and help us out.”

“But…?”

“But he’s off at MIT and doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon,” replied Speedball. “So I’ll have to tell Dwayne that we’re S.O.L.”

“I see,” said Patriot. “Tell me something, Speedball. Why are you here in the middle of the day? Don’t you have school?”

“Err… what do you mean?” asked Speedball.

“Robert Baldwin, age nineteen,” replied Patriot. “Unsatisfactory grades, forced to repeat senior year of high school. With this sort of extracurricular activity, I can see why.”

“How did you–?!”

“After Taylor approached us with you and Rage, I did my homework into the three of you,” said Patriot. “Your identity was the easiest to figure out. Not too good at hiding your secret identity, are you? Ricochet has the same problem.”

“Hey, now just wait–”

“Rage took a bit more digging, but once I discovered Elvin Haliday was Dwayne Taylor’s ward, the pieces fell into place,” said Patriot. “And as for Taylor, I assumed he must have had relationship with the last incarnation of the Warriors, which is why he’s so interested. I thought perhaps he could have been a former Warrior himself. I looked into him and the Taylor Foundation, and based on your slip of the tongue earlier, it looks like I was right in my assumption that he was once Night Thrasher.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about us, Bucky,” said Speedball. “So howzabout a little quid pro quo? What’s your name? Where’d you get your powers? What’s your connection to Captain America?”

“My name is Patriot, I received my powers through unnatural means, and I have no connection to Captain America,” said Patriot. “Those answers work for you?”

“Not even a little.”

“Too bad,” said Patriot.

“I don’t think it’s fair of you to know all this stuff about us when we don’t know jack about you,” said Speedball.

“Then maybe you should do what I did,” said Patriot. “Investigate.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I like you very much,” said Speedball.

“I don’t like you, either,” said Patriot. “I don’t need a babysitter, Baldwin.”

“Yeah, well you took the New Warriors name as your own, so you should’ve expected some backlash,” said Speedball. “Just be glad Thrash was willing to give you a chance instead of kicking your star-spangled ass.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” said Patriot. “But I’m still leading this team. You don’t have to like me, but you will have to follow my orders in the field.”

“Yes sir!” exclaimed Speedball. He instantly shot to attention and brought his hand to his forehead in salute. Patriot simply turned his back on his teammate. Speedball fell back into his chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I hate being intimidating… it’s too much work.”

Empire State University

“Johnny!”

Johnny Gallo stopped in the middle of the crowded hallway and looked to the source of the voice. He saw a young woman with long, blonde hair running towards him. He smiled at her and she threw her arms around him once she approached, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Hey Kath,” he said. He wrapped his arm around her waist and the young couple walked towards the building’s exit. “What’s going on?”

“Did you hear?” asked Kathy.

“Hear what?”

“About the mutant art exhibit!” replied Kathy.

“Ermm… the what exhibit?”

“Mutant art exhibit,” said Kathy. The two stepped outside the classroom building onto the sidewalk and walked down it. “Y’know, they’re unveiling Eliza Gliati’s artwork? She’s that artist with four arms.”

“Oh right… that exhibit…” said Johnny. “When is it?”

“Like, right now!” she exclaimed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the direction of the exhibit. “C’mon, let’s go, it’s in the union!”

“Whoa, hold up, Kath, I dunno…” said Johnny. He stopped in his tracks and pulled her back to him. “I mean, it’s one o’clock now, and I haven’t eaten lunch yet…”

“They’ve got free food there,” said Kathy. “So we should probably go before it’s all gone. You know how college kids are.”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Johnny. “I mean… what if somebody sees us?”

“So what if someone sees us?” asked Kathy. “Freedom of assembly, remember? Or were you asleep that day in government?”

“Well now that you mention it…”

“Oh come on, Johnny, this is important for you!” she said.

“I… just don’t think it is,” said Johnny. “I mean, I’m not real comfortable about… you know how I… it’s just weird, y’know?”

“Why?” asked Kathy.

“It just… it’s hard to explain, okay?”

“You’re not… I mean, you can’t be…”

“Can’t be what?” asked Johnny.

“Y’know… ashamed.”

“Ashamed? What do I have to be ashamed of?” asked Johnny.

“Nothing!” replied Kathy. “There’s nothing wrong with you being a mu–”

“Hey, keep your voice down!” exclaimed Johnny.

“Oh wonderful… you are ashamed, aren’t you?”

“Please, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever…”

“Why are you ashamed?” asked Kathy.

“I’m not! I’m just… I just don’t wanna go see some mutant art exhibit, okay?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you,” said Kathy. She turned away from him. “How can you be ashamed of who you are?”

“C’mon Kathy, it’s not like that!” exclaimed Johnny. He saw her beginning to walk away and he ran to catch up with her. “Hey hey wait, where are you going?”

“To the exhibit,” said Kathy. “Look me up once you’ve dumped your self-loathing thing.”

Johnny stood and watched as Kathy walked off. In the distance, he could see a crowd gathering at the student union for the exhibit. He shook his head and looked down at his watch. It read 1:15, which meant he had forty-five minutes to grab some lunch before his next class. He began walking in the other direction of the union. There was a shopping center within walking distance, and there was a pretty good Chinese restaurant there that served a buffet lunch until four. He thought about going there, but then he kept thinking about Kathy’s words and he stopped in his tracks. He looked back towards the union and sighed.

“Women…” he muttered before running in the direction of the exhibit.

The shopkeeper was an older man, around sixty years of age or so. He had a big, bushy mustache and a bad comb over. He also wore a pair of thick glasses that magnified his beady little eyes. He wasn’t very tall, couldn’t have been more than five-foot-six. He approached the larger man who wore a trench coat and held a rolled up newspaper in his left hand.

“Excuse me sir, is there something I can help you with?”

The man in the trench coat was admiring the guns behind the glass case, but he turned and looked at the shopkeeper. His blond hair was cut short, and the right side of his face was badly scarred. So much that the shopkeeper let out an involuntary gasp.

“Umm… that is… did you have any questions about these firearms?”

“No, just browsing,” said the man. “I received extensive training, and I keep up with the latest models.”

“Training?” asked the shopkeeper. “Oh, were you in the military?”

“…you might say that,” replied the man. As a matter of fact, he served in the CIA for some time as an assassin before retiring and going into business for himself. “No, what I’m really interested in is some ammo.”

“Ammo?” asked the shopkeeper. “Sure thing, what kind?”

“Something for an automatic,” said the man.

“Okay, well we’ll need to run a background check first,” said the shopkeeper. He stepped behind the counter and sat at a computer. “If you could just give me your name?”

“Of course,” said the man. “The name is Bushwacker.”

“…I’m sorry?”

“It’s spelled B-U-S-H-W-A-C-K-E-R.”

“…wait, did you say Bushwacker?” asked the shopkeeper. He turned his face to look at the man and he found a pistol pointed directly at his face. What startled the shopkeeper most of all, however, was that the gun seemed to be made from the man’s right hand.

“Yes,” said Bushwacker.

*BANG*

The shopkeeper fell face-down on the counter, a bullethole in the center of his forehead. Bushwacker moved behind the counter and collected the necessary ammunition, sliding it into pockets in his trench coat. Bushwacker looked at the newspaper, his attention going directly to the headline he circled. It read, “MUTANT ARTIST TO UNVEIL EXHIBIT AT ESU.”

Empire State University

Evangeline Whedon stood at the front of the group of people who had gathered for the mutant exhibit. Off to the side were several chairs. In one of them sat a woman with four arms and a pair of sunglasses. Next to her was a young, Vietnamese woman. Behind Evangeline were several paintings covered with drop cloths. Evangeline tapped the microphone and then spoke into it.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I’d like to thank you all for coming out here today. This is an important day for mutants and humans alike. We’re here today to celebrate the work of a brilliant young woman, who hasn’t let genetic prejudice hinder her craft. But I’m going to stop rambling and introduce you to the woman you all came here to see — Eliza Gliati!”

The crowd applauded, as did Evangeline and the Vietnamese woman. The four-armed woman stepped forward and hugged Evangeline before facing the crowd. Evangeline took her seat next to the Vietnamese woman as Eliza prepared to speak.

“Thank you, thank you all,” she said. “First off, I want to thank Evangeline Whedon and Xi’an Coy Mahn. Without them, this exhibit wouldn’t be here today, so they earn a lot of credit. And I want to thank you all, the staff and students of Empire State University. Accepting me onto your campus is a great honor, and it’s nice to know that despite anti-mutant propaganda, there are still people who believe mutants are people, entitled to the same rights as anyone else. I was born with two extra arms, as you can see. And I’ve put them to good use in my painting.”

Eliza began to pull the drop cloths from each painting, receiving applause in response to the artwork. As she allowed the onlookers to observe her work, she smiled wide. An expression of happiness and acceptance, something Eliza Gliati was not accustomed to receiving in her life.

It would also be the last expression ever seen on her face.

A gunshot rang out and people screamed. Many instantly fell to the ground. Evangeline and Xi’an leapt to their feet and ran to Eliza’s side. Xi’an placed her hand on Eliza’s neck, but felt no pulse. The young artist’s eyes were wide open, but completely devoid of life. Evangeline turned away, but Xi’an had other ideas in mind.

She turned her head and her eyes began to glow. In that moment, she projected her brainwaves outward, hopping from mind to mind, trying to locate the source. She caught him and she locked eyes with him. In an instant, she was on her feet and broke out in a run. Bushwacker saw her approach and he turned to run in the opposite direction.

A young woman with lavender skin came up beside Evangeline, and looked down at the lifeless body. She also looked out towards Karma. Clarice Ferguson knew she could get to Bushwacker faster, but Karma was already in pursuit, and she didn’t want to leave Evangeline alone at a time like this. So against her instincts, she stayed behind.

Years of training placed Karma at the peak of physicality for a woman of her age and size. Endless hours in the Danger Room would do that to a person. She projected her brainwaves outward, but found she couldn’t penetrate Bushwacker’s mind. Instead, she projected further, to several nearby people. They suddenly jumped in front of Bushwacker, impeding his progress. Before either Karma or Bushwacker could make a move, muscular legs slammed into his chest, coming from above.

Bushwacker fell backwards and he saw a young man dressed in blue and white spandex, with a leather jacket over his costume. The mask concealed his face, but left his platinum-blond hair free. He held two golden discs in his hands, and Bushwacker noted taht there were more of them lining his sleeves.

“You’re not going anywhere, pal,” said Ricochet. Bushwacker smiled and his left hand moved towards his right arm. Ricochet watched in shock as Bushwacker manipulated his arm, shifting it into what looked like a machine gun.

“You’re wrong,” he said and opened fire. Ricochet’s danger sense went wild, and he instantly dodged, moving purely on instinct to avoid the bullets. He threw both discs and one of them struck Bushwacker’s arm and threw off his aim. The other struck his head. He rubbed the spot on his forehead that the disc hit and then stood. Ricochet faced him, and Bushwacker motioned with his arm to the side.

“I think you have more important things to worry about than me,” he said. Ricochet looked in the direction Bushwacker gestured towards and he saw Karma laying on the ground.

“Oh shit…” he muttered. He rushed to her side and found her cupping her hand on her abdomen. Ricochet moved her hand and blood poured freely from the wound. He forced her hand back on the wound and covered it with his own, applying more pressure.

“Not good… not good at all…”

“What are you doing, you idiot?” asked Karma. “He got away!”

“Hey, I’m trying to help out, here!” replied Ricochet.

“You can help by going after him!” exclaimed Karma. “I can take care of myself, now go!”

Ricochet nodded and ran off after Bushwacker. A few moments later, a bright light appeared and a portal opened. Clarice Ferguson stepped out of it and kneeled by Karma.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I took a bullet, but I’ll live,” replied Karma. “Some random superhero showed up, he’s going after the assassin.”

“Which way?” asked Clarice. Karma gestured with her head in the direction they ran and Clarice looked over her shoulder, then back to Karma.

“You gonna be okay?” asked Clarice.

“I’ll be fine, now go,” replied Karma.

Ricochet sailed through the air, staying in close proximity to Bushwacker. He kept the assassin in his sights and hurled one of his golden throwing discs. Bushwacker seemed to sense it coming and he spun around on his heel, dodging the disc, and opened fire on Ricochet.

The New Warrior twisted in the air, bullets catching his jacket, and he landed nimbly on the ground. Bushwacker took aim and Ricochet hurled another disc at the gun-arm. He was on top of the assassin, throwing punches and kicks at close range, but Bushwacker was able to block or avoid most of them.

“Why did you do it?” asked Ricochet.

“Because it had to be done,” replied Bushwacker. He slammed his gun-arm against Ricochet’s head, and the young hero was forced back a few paces. Bushwacker elbowed Ricochet in the chest and then kicked his legs out from under him. Ricochet hit the ground and Bushwacker pinned him there by putting his foot on Ricochet’s neck. He pointed his gun down.

“Are you a religious man?” asked Bushwacker.

“I saw a pepperoni shaped like Jesus once, does that count?” asked Ricochet.

A bright, flash of light suddenly appeared, and heeled boots struck Bushwacker in the chest. He stumbled back and Clarice Ferguson stood there.

“Another mutant, I see,” said Bushwacker. Ricochet climbed to his feet and stood beside Clarice. He looked at her up and down, and then looked towards Bushwacker.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“What do you say we take out this guy before we show off our superhero decoder rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Ricochet. “Mine’s still in the mail, anyway. I’m gonna have to talk to my union rep about that one.”

Bushwacker opened fire with the machine gun feature of his arm. Blink teleported away and Ricochet nimbly dodged the bullets. Blink rematerialized behind him and sweeped him, kicking his legs together and forcing him to fall to the ground. Bushwacker pulled himself back up immediately, but Blink was gone once again. He turned the gun back to Ricochet. Blink rematerialized beside Ricochet and took one of the discs from his jacket.

“Hey, what are you–”

Without another word, Blink hurled the disc at Bushwacker. It began to glow with pink energy the moment it left her fingertips. Bushwacker lifted his gun-arm to block the disc and the instant it struck, half his gun-arm vanished in a flash of light. It rematerialized on the ground and Bushwacker looked down at his damaged weapon in shock.

“Hey scarface!”

Bushwacker looked up just in time to see a flurry of golden discs an instant before the struck him.

Blink and Ricochet quickly left the scene after leaving Bushwacker for the authorities. SHIELD agents arrived to detain him, and they confiscated the remains of his gun-arm.

“What was his deal anyway?” asked Ricochet.

“His name’s Bushwacker,” replied Blink. “He kills mutants.”

“No reason, he just killed her because she was a mutant?” asked Ricochet.

“Welcome to my world…” muttered Blink. “For years, I’ve had people try to kill me just because I was born different.”

“You don’t hide your appearence though, do you?” asked Ricochet. “Y’know, with make-up or something?”

“No, I don’t,” replied Blink.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re the ones with the problem,” she said. “Just because they hate me for being different doesn’t mean I should be ashamed of who I am.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense,” he said. “So… you never told me your name.”

“Blink,” she said. “You?”

“Ricochet.”

“Well, congratulations Ricochet,” said Blink. “We just had ourselves a team-up.”

NEXT: For more on “Empire” and Noh-Varr’s plot, check out the main story in the pages of AVENGERS. And be here when the Warriors return for an all-new story-arc! Someone is kidnapping children and training them to serve as henchmen for various terrorist organization. The Warriors go toe-to-toe with the Pig! Be here for part one of “For The Children” in NEW WARRIORS #3!