HUNTERS OF BOUNTY

Part II: Obedience Training

By Hunter Lambright

Los Angeles

Matti Falcone kneeled over the prone form of the unconscious girl he had found lying next to his brother, Primo. His bare back bled deeply from a V-shaped incision that touched from both shoulders to the small of his back. As the telekinetically-delivered wound had struck, Matti’s concentration had lapsed, causing his energy-formed serpent to disappear. He could hear Primo groan as his body dropped to the street with nothing remaining to suspend him in the air.

Behind Matti stood two figures dressed in shadowy, burgundy clothing, their faces half-masked by netting. The most disturbing part of the two, however, was the fact that their eyes glowed pink, casting a slight glow around the area in the growing darkness.

“Stay away from our daughter,” the two commanded in unison. They were Gene and Alice Hayes, founding members of the Pride’s current incarnation and parents to Molly Hayes, otherwise known as the ‘unconscious girl’.

Matti put his hands up apologetically, wincing in pain as he turned from her body. “Look, I didn’t touch her,” he said, standing up. “If you’ll just—”

“ENOUGH!” the Hayes shouted in unison. They each held up both hands and pressed forward. Matti felt as if a wall hit him, shoving him into the brick-walled building across the street. His body crumpled the ground, disoriented but conscious.

Rushing over to their daughter, the couple began to take her vitals. Their skills as doctors were perfect in this matter. “How’s her breathing?” asked Gene, as he pressed his fingers into her jugular to take her pulse.

Alice lifted her face from Molly’s chest. “Her breathing is regular, if only slowed. It’s deep—as if she’s…just sleeping…”

Looking toward Matti’s prone body, he started, “Then the boy—”

“—could have been lying,” Alice finished. “But we can’t second-guess ourselves any longer, and we can’t tell Robert about this.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you recognize those two? They’re the boys he thinks Chase killed in the fire, Gene. If he finds out that they’re alive, then he and Geoff will mend the rift, and we don’t want that to happen,” Alice explained.

“Then we keep our mouths shut,” Gene said decisively, lifting Molly into his arms. “Forget we saw them, then. We have more important things to deal with.” With that, the mutant couple’s eyes glowed pink and their bodies were surrounded with telekinetic energy as they lifted off in flight.

Matti watched dimly as the Hayes family floated off into the distance. His back was sticky with his own blood, and he could feel bruises building up along the left side of his torso from his collision with the building. Still, his own wounds were nothing in comparison to that single, deep puncture of Primo’s.

Conjuring up his serpent for the umpteenth time that night, Matti lifted his brother onto its scaly back like a living gurney and straddled it as, slowly, it began to wriggle back to the Little Shoppe of Horrors—to the place Matti hoped Primo would eventually call home once more.

“Five…four…”

Geoff Wilder’s finger pressed tightly on the trigger of his gun. Though he’d taken Chase Stein under his wing after the death of the boy’s father, he was prepared to go to any and all lengths if it meant keeping his own son, Alex, safe from harm. Chase had the equivalent of a gun pressed to Alex’s forehead, so Geoff pressed his own gun to Chase’s.

“…three…two…”

He’d given Chase the option of backing off, but the boy hadn’t moved. Why hadn’t he pulled back? Stupid kid! Did he honestly think that he’d been told the truth? Did he honestly think it was Alex who murdered his father? Geoff gripped the gun. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but it was not beneath him to pull the trigger to protect his own family before the family of his Pride.

“…one…”

BLAM!

Then, in that instant, time stood still.

Dale Yorkes looked to his wife and nodded. “Good timing.”

The man had short-cropped gray hair and a long, grey mustache that meshed well with his short-cut beard. A pair of goggles rested atop his head, and most of his clothing looked as though it had been picked from different centuries. All of it matched well, yet none of it went together. Stacey, on the other hand, was short and squat, with reddish hair. She, too, wore the same mismatched garb as her husband.

These two were given domain of Time at the dawn of the Pride.

Without a word, the two nodded at each other and went to work. Dale pulled Geoff’s arm stiffly upward to the sky where it could not harm anyone. He then proceeded to empty it of the rounds that had not been shot. Stacey dragged Alex from under the merciless barrel of Chase’s bazooka-like Lightning Rod. Then, she removed the W.A.T.E.R. helmet from his head and relieved Chase of his own technology. Once this had been done, Dale separated the three males further, to prevent the detonation of a fistfight once time returned to its usual rate.

“Satisfied?” Stacey asked. She looked at the bullet that was suspended in the air where the barrel of Geoff’s gun had been. Now it pointed into the stucco side of the building.

“Ah, yes. Though I dare say this will be more complicated than if we’d let him shoot the boy,” Dale said, taking his wife’s hand.

“If it was Gert, would you be singing a different song?” his wife asked, as they activated their mismatched outfits, glowing green as time returned to its normal pace…

Geoff stared at his own arm in disbelief, wondering why it had disobeyed him so quickly; the arm remained in the air jerkily for a moment, as Geoff’s brain took the time to register the arm’s whereabouts and how to get it back to a normal position. Seeing the Yorkes standing quietly in the shadows of early night, he soon realized what had occurred.

Chase knew that something had happened, and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he threw that uncertainty to the wind. He dashed like a madman to Geoff and threw a crazy punch to the older man’s face. “You were gonna frickin’ shoot me!” he shouted, his voice laced with pure hatred.

Geoff took the hit before turning to Chase and grabbing his second fist as it swung back around for a second blow. “Your father was right,” Geoff spat. “You hit like a bitch.” Chase opened his mouth in a spite-filled response when—

CRACK!

—Catherine Wilder brought the butt of her gun across the back of Chase’s head! The misguided seventeen year-old crumpled to his knees, clutching the back of his skull and whimpering.

“Thanks, dear,” Geoff said, rubbing his jaw where Chase had connected earlier. He looked around for a second before realizing what was conspicuously missing. “Ah, dammit! Now where the hell did Alex get to?”

Breathing heavily, Alex darted between a telephone pole and a postbox. He knew that he had to put as much distance between himself and his parents as he possibly could before they realized he was missing. Then, in a brilliant, blinding flash, he realized he’d reached his destination. There, gathered off the side of the road, were Nico, Karolina, and Gert, flanked by her newfound telepathic dinosaur.

“Took you long enough, Alex,” said Nico. She cradled her Staff of One awkwardly in her elbow because of the damage one of Master Pandemonium’s demons had done to her shoulder. Walking up to Alex, Nico placed her good hand on his shoulder. “We were worried; we heard gunshots.”

“It was my dad,” Alex said, still in shock. “H-he almost killed Chase! He would have if your parents hadn’t been there, Gert!” He ran a hair through his thick hair nervously.

Noticing his bare head, Gert asked, “Hey, where’d WATER go?” Old Lace poked her reptilian head over Gert’s shoulder as she stroked her hand lightly across the deinonychus’s snout.

Alex raised his hand to his head again as if to be sure there wasn’t anything there. “Dammit. Your parents must’ve taken it off me—are they really time-travelers?” He looked at Old Lace and then stared at his feet so that she wouldn’t see his reddening cheeks. “Right. Dinosaur. Stupid question.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Karolina sighed. “What you’re trying to tell us is that we don’t know what we’re doing anymore—right?” Once again, she’d put on her medical information bracelet so that her light powers would fade away and they wouldn’t draw as much attention.

Alex brushed Nico’s hand off his shoulder lightly before putting his hands on his hips. He sighed. “Well…basically, yeah.”

“Oh, well as long as we’re clear on that…” Gert muttered sarcastically. “You realize how deep we’re in this? We’ve been in the middle of a gun-shooting, fire-fighting freakshow in the middle of Los Angeles at night—and not a single cop showed up. The police have to be in on this, and if that’s the case…we’re screwed…”

“You give off so much pep and optimism, I can practically touch it,” Karolina spat, her arms folded across her chest. “Couldn’t you have tried to say something that wouldn’t have made me want to sit down and suck my thumb?”

“How about, ‘Mommy and Daddy are home!'” said a new voice. It came from Frank Dean, clad from head to toe in a black and green bodysuit with a purple-red plume atop his head. He flew in using a variation of his daughter’s genetic ‘light powers’.

“Funny,” said Nico. “I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘Hey, kids! Mom and Dad are staying on vacation for another week!'” She held out the Staff of One. “Besides, do you really want to mess with my magic?”

Leslie Dean, clad similarly to her husband, warned, “Frank, do not answer that question…”

“You can’t even comprehend the can of worms you kids have opened up,” Frank Dean said simply from beneath his mask. “I’m warning you—this won’t end pretty if you try to fight us. Besides, what hope do a couple of kids on the ground have against two flying adults?”

“I think we can even those odds,” Nico said hotly. Raising the Staff of One, she shouted, “CRAWLING!”

Instantly, white rays of light sifted from the cap of the staff, circling the alien couple before their eyes. Like their own personal fog bank, the white wisps drowned out the Deans’ alien glows, forcing them to their hands and knees on the ground.

“You will pay for that, mongrel human!” Frank uttered in pain. He could barely bring his head up to spit out the insult.

“Some kind of gravity spell, Nico?” Alex asked in pleasant surprise. “I’m…impressed.”

Karolina looked at her parents as they lost the battle to remain on their hands and knees. “I don’t know who you people are, but you aren’t my parents,” she hissed. “My parents didn’t threaten my friends—and they never thought being ‘human’ was an insult! You people are just imposters—because my parents told me they loved me, not that they were going to kick my ass!” She kicked gravel at her parents’ fallen forms before following the other Runaways.

“Is it just me—or was there something really ironic about that?” asked Gert between heavy breaths as they ran. “I mean, Nico just ‘grounded’ two of our evil parents.”

Alex allowed himself a grin before turning to Karolina. “You okay, K?” he asked, seeing a tear drop down onto Karolina’s cheek.

Quickly brushing it away, Karolina let out a long breath before replying. “No…but I’m never going to be. I guess this is my new ‘okay’, Alex. So to answer your question, yeah, I guess I’m okay.” She sighed again.

The four kids and one dinosaur came to a stop at a new alleyway that they believed was distant enough from their last. “So now what?” Nico asked, clutching her side. She’d gotten a cramp there while running through the bizarrely empty streets.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “This is so weird. Normally I’d say we just go to the cops and let them sort the whole damn thing out. But do you see anyone anywhere? No cops, no civilians—hell, no dogs or cats. Something’s wrong here.”

“I’d say,” Gert nodded in realization. “There isn’t any factory noise or anything. Someone’s choosing who or what’s here or not. We’re playing on someone else’s playground.”

Nico gave a sort of exasperated moan before spreading her arms out in surrender. “Mom, Dad—come on out. I know you’re here, because you’re the only ones on the Pride who could pull off some kind of crap like this.”

The four kids looked around waiting for something to happen—something magic, like the dissipation of the scenery revealing them to already be in their parents’ clutches or some kind of disembodied voice letting them know that they had already been caught.

Suddenly, on a frequency silent to the human ear, Old Lace caught the whistle to her true masters. She tore off down the alleyway, leaving Gert alone in her wake. “Wait—OL, come back!”

Alex put a firm hand on Gert’s shoulder to prevent her from running any further. “Don’t go after her. Something wrong. I can practically smell it.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was Karolina who first realized that there was some kind of dust in the air—something brighter and thicker than the usual dark dust that filled the air when the wind picked up. “Guys…there’s…something…” Her voice began to tire, followed quickly by her muscles and willpower.

Slowly, the four Runaways crumpled to the ground. Alex alone still retained any semblance of consciousness when the eleven-man Pride approached their fallen forms. Looking at his father’s boots in front of his eyes, Alex muttered, “Damn…it…” before succumbing to the darkness at the corners of his eyes.

The Little Shoppe of Horrors

The first thing Primo noticed when he regained consciousness was that he was in a bed. That’s good news, he thought. If what the others say about their parents is true, the Pride wouldn’t put me in a bed if they caught me, right?

For once, Primo’s optimism rang true. His eyes fluttered open to the sight of his brother Matti. “Long time no see,” Primo said weakly. “‘Cept in a mirror, and all that…”

Matti could only muster a half-grin in his own pain. “If that was s’posed to be funny, you suck even worse than I remember at cracking jokes.” He rubbed some kind of antibiotic onto Primo’s stab wound, out of his sight.

“How bad is it?” Primo asked, gritting his teeth as the sleep-numbed pain came back in full force. “That Chance girl stuck me pretty good, didn’t she?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Matti said, gritting his own teeth. Only then did Primo see his twin’s blood-soaked back. Matti pretended not to notice, however, applying a stack of gauze squares to Primo’s chest before securing them with medical tape around to his stomach and back.

Primo forced himself into a sitting position. “Let me see your back, Matti,” he said, his voice betraying his sincere concern for his brother. ‘So much for the tough guys act we’re both trying to put on,’ Primo thought ruefully.

Matti prepared to object, but stopped himself. He turned around so that Primo could see the V-shaped laceration from his shoulders to the small of his back. It still bled, albeit sluggishly. The wound showed no sign of preparing to scab over any time in the future.

“Give me whatever you used on me,” Primo said. “If you leave that thing uncovered and free-flowing, you’re gonna get infected.”

Matti frowned. “Don’t preach to me, Primo. I got cut like that rescuing you, a’ight? Just fix me up so we can put this behind us.” That shut Primo up right away.

Primo instead changed the subject. “So, heh…you’re alive. I knew you weren’t dead. I mean, like, if you were dead, I should have felt it, right?”

“Dad’s okay, too,” Matti said, trying to shift the subject away from the relationship between himself and Primo. He just wasn’t sure if he could forgive Primo aloud yet, even if he had already done it inside.

Primo dabbed at the blood on Matti’s back for a second before continuing. “And Mom?”

Matti shook his head. “She didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

Primo proceeded in silence, doctoring up his brother with an entire box of gauze pads and medical tape. “You need stitches,” Primo said finally, casting any thoughts of his mother’s death from his mind. “Otherwise you could probably still get infected.”

Matti shook his head. “We’ve always managed without a doctor; we can do the same now.” Primo looked doubtfully at his brother, but declined to say anything.

Finally, Primo asked something that had been bugging him since he woke up. “Have you…y’know…heard anything about my friends? They were downtown, too, I think.”

Matti thought, then shrugged, wincing at the pain the gesture caused him. “I don’t know. I mean, that one girl’s parents picked her up…there was a lot of crap going on. I’m not really sure what else went down.”

“Her parents?” Primo asked worriedly. He knew what that could mean for the kids—for his friends. He stood up slowly. “Do you have a shirt?”

Matti nodded, digging through a cardboard box before tossing Primo a cutoff shirt and pulling a wife-beater over his own head. “What’s up?”

“My friends are in danger,” Primo said simply. “Their parents have ‘em now. I’m sure of it.”

Matti cocked his head to one side. “Why should I care?”

“Because I’m your brother, and I need you,” Primo admitted weakly. “Besides, it was two members of the Pride who cut you up tonight, and it was one of their kids who went rogue that lit our old Shoppe on fire and killed Mom. And it’s their fault that you’re still pissed at me. I think those are good enough reasons.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” said Matti sternly. “C’mon, Primo, and use that mutant thing of yours to get us out there. They’re gonna feel what it’s like to scream when Hell’s shooting fire up their asses!”

Primo raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Good to have you back, Matti,” he said, stepping outside the new Little Shoppe of Horrors and calling his green falcon from his back to reality.

Mounting the falcon alongside Primo, Matti clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What else are brothers for, man?”

Then, with a flap of giant, green wings, the falcon lifted off, carrying the boys off into the night’s all-enveloping grasp. It was their solemn hope that, before daylight came once more, they would avenge their mother’s death…

Downtown Los Angeles

Two long, green, mechanical frog legs touched down on the ground with a dull thud, followed quickly by the two shorter front legs. From the frog-based transport ship stepped Janet Stein, saying aloud, “Leapfrog, power down. Save some gas.”

“Yes, *rbbbt*, Madam Stein. Energy preservation measures in progress.” Then the lights dimmed on the Leapfrog before Janet stepped down to solid ground.

“It’s about time,” complained Stacey Yorkes, hands on her hips. “We’ve been trying to keep Robert and Tina from passing out because of the amount of time they’ve had to keep up the ‘bad feeling’ aura that’s been keeping people out of this area for the past three hours.”

“Well, next time we can take your ship,” Janet said sarcastically. “Oh, wait. You only have time machines. How droll.”

“Keep it together, ladies,” said Geoff Wilder, dragging Alex’s unconscious form by the armpits to the Leapfrog. “Just get past this Rite of Thunder, and then we can worry about the issues within the Pride. Besides, from what I understand, the Gibborim wish to indoctrinate our children tonight. It could be beneficial for all of us to keep it together past tonight, because if any of us step out of line, they could just replace us with our child.” Of course, Geoff neither thought this was possible or plausible, but the subtle threat was enough to keep the two women from ripping each other’s throats out.

As the rest of the Pride continued to load their children into the Leapfrog, Geoff turned to Chase, who had just begun to stir. “You coming tonight, son?” Geoff asked, as Chase came to.

Chase looked at Geoff like he was insane. “Son?! You were gonna shoot me!” Chase’s eyes were wide in both fear and disbelief.

“Oh, come on, Chase,” Geoff said, his voice growing increasingly angry. “That was a complete misunderstanding, I assure you…”

“Get the hell away from me, Wilder!” shouted Chase, before getting up and running off into the night.

Geoff felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. “Haven’t you done enough for one night, hon?” Catherine asked, as sadness and pity mixed in her eyes. “Leave the boy be. You can deal with him when you come back.”

Letting out a mumbling groan, Geoff turned to the Leapfrog. “We’re ready to go!” exclaimed Leslie Dean, standing at the loading ramp.

“Then let’s get this damned thing over with,” Geoff muttered.

The Vivarium
Twenty Minutes Later

When Alex woke up, he could not move an inch. He was lying on a cold metal surface, restrained at the wrists, ankles, and torso. There was a gag in his mouth, so he couldn’t scream for help. Bright lights poured from the ceiling. For all intents and purposes, Alex lay on an operating table.

The imposing figure of his father filled Alex’s vision. “Sorry about this, son,” said Geoff, trying to avoid his son’s gaze. “I had to cut a deal so that the Gibborim wouldn’t kill you all, and so, well, you have a price to pay. They want you for…something. I don’t know what, but they swear they’re not going to kill or harm you. Please, just do whatever they say, Alex.” His voice was now pleading.

“And don’t forget, no matter what you really think, Alex, your mother and I do love you…”

With that, Geoff exited the room, leaving Alex to the worst the Gibborim had to offer…

Outside, in the main chamber of the Vivarium, the Pride waited in nervous silence. The enormous doors to the main platform opened, and out stepped the three Biblical giants known collectively at the Gibborim. The lead one appeared the most human-like in nature. The second one appeared to have been mixed with some sort of hog or ox or both, and the third’s eyes were covered. Only the first one ever spoke.

“Your Pride is incomplete,” said the lead Gibborim. “We must not start the Rite of Thunder until the Pride has assembled.”

“We’re all here, my lords,” said Geoff, kneeling. “All but our recently departed Victor Stein.”

“And what of his replacement? Twelve must be present so that the twenty-third consecutive Rite of Thunder may commence!” exclaimed the lead Gibborim angrily.

There was a sudden flash of pink light, and when it cleared, Cyanide stood amidst the Pride. “There are twelve,” he said menacingly. Geoff gave the yellow and green man a look that read, ‘I don’t trust you or believe you, but when this is over, you aren’t getting away form us again.’

Over in the corner, the remaining four children of the Pride watched in anger, fear, and frustration at the sight in front of them. They neither understood nor believed what was going on, but before the night was over, they would understand and believe it all.

The lead Gibborim seemed satisfied. “Very well,” he said. “Present the Soul and let the twenty-third Rite of Thunder commence!”

NEXT ISSUE: The origin of the Pride is revealed! The Gibborim confront the Pride about their children’s activities, and things get ugly! And, in an action that takes only a split-second to execute, there is death! Stay tuned, True Believers! You can’t miss this one!