Osaka, Japan

Kenuichio Harada felt uncomfortable in the business suit he wore. He excused himself from the drinking party in the ancestral home of the Clan Yashida. Rising from the lotus position on the tatami mat, he quietly slipped out. Stepping into the hall, he moved to the back entrance of the house and opened the sliding door leading to the garden. A pair of slippers sat near the entrance that he slid onto his feet.

The former assassin placed a Seven Stars cigarette between his lips and lit it. As he puffed on the cigarette, he walked further out into the garden, barely paying attention to its immaculate detail.

<“You can come out now,”> he said in Japanese.

A woman dressed in red and yellow with long black hair flipped off from the ceiling. <“How long did you know I was here?”> she asked. Despite being a foreigner, her Japanese was nearly flawless.

Harada just snickered. <“Jessica, do you really think I’ve grown so soft I can’t recognize an intruder in my home?”>

“I hope you don’t mind if we switch over to English,” she said. “Wouldn’t want to disrespect you by damaging your native language.”

“Now you’re trying to kiss my ass,” said Harada. He turned and faced the Spider-Woman, offering her the pack of cigarettes.

“No thanks.” Jessica Drew looked him up and down. “Who knew the Silver Samurai could clean up so nice? What’s going on in there?”

“Finessing the Giri Corporation,” said Harada. “With the government diverting many resources to the relief effort in Fukushima, Big Hero 6 has seen a cut in funding. Hopefully, Giri can step up their contributions.”

Big Hero 6 was Japan’s government-sanctioned team of superheroes. The Silver Samurai served as their leader.

“Is Shiro helping you with that?”

“Sunfire hasn’t been a member for some time. His sister recently joined, but she unfortunately doesn’t carry her brother’s national prestige.” Harada groaned. “Yet she does possess his charming personality.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Ken.”

“Shall we dispense with the pleasantries, Jessica?” asked Harada. “You came here with a mission. I know as much given your uniform. I thought you gave up on superheroics.”

“You never really give it up, I suppose,” said Jessica. “But you’re right, I do have something to ask.”

“Dozo.”

“What do you know about the Hand’s current activities?” asked Jessica.

“That’s a complicated question. You know as well as I do how vast the Hand is and how difficult they are to nail down.”

“Then I’ll be more specific—what sort of presence do they have in South America?”

“Ah, now for that, we should go inside,” said Harada, stepping over to the door. He slid it open for her. “I believe we should have a drink.”

CONTROL IN HAND

Part II

By Dino Pollard

Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

James Rhodes soared over the South American mountain range bordering Colombia. He was clad in his War Machine armor, scanning the land below. A circle on his HUD centered on a spot in the mountains and zoomed in close in an insert camera for him to get a closer look at.

“Looks like I was right, that factory is still here,” he said.

“Can you tell if there’s any activity going on?” The voice of Agent Phil Coulson, the Secret Avengers’ liaison with SHIELD, echoed in Rhodey’s helmet.

“Not from this angle,” said War Machine. “Have to get in closer.”

“Watch yourself out there, who knows how much of that tech the Hand’s using themselves.”

“Don’t think we have to worry about that. Not really their style.”

War Machine descended from the clouds, moving closer into the mountain range. The factory grew larger as he approached, its size far greater than what he originally imagined. “Trask had some massive operation going on here.”

“That’s assuming it wasn’t expanded on after his death.”

“Good point,” said War Machine.

His HUD began flashing a warning light. War Machine turned just as he was struck by an energy blast. Not powerful enough to knock him from the sky, but enough to disorient him. He focused on his attacker and saw there were three of them. Each of them piloted a suit of armor resembling a Sentinel.

“I’ve got company,” he said. “I think you were right about the Hand using this tech themselves. Either that or they’ve hired some locals to do it for them.”

“Get out of there, we don’t want our operation compromised.”

“Too late for that, Coulson,” said War Machine. His shoulder-mounted rocket launcher fired off a flurry of projectiles at one of the Sentinels as his palms unleashed repulsor arrays, striking down the first.

War Machine jetted up higher, but the Sentinels were in hot pursuit. His HUD warned him of incoming blasts and he banked, rolling to the side to avoid them. He cut his rockets momentarily, changing to hover mode and the Sentinels flew past him. Before they could adjust, Rhodey rocketed forward again, grabbing one of the Sentinels from behind and wrapping his arms around the suit. He grabbed part of the Sentinel’s back, tearing it off and kicking the armored man away.

The Sentinel pilot fell from the sky, but his suit wasn’t responding, its flight system damaged by Rhodey’s assault. Only one Sentinel was left standing. But this one was the most skilled at piloting his suit, evading War Machine’s projectiles with remarkable ease.

The Sentinel extended his hands and mechanical tendrils shot out from both palms. War Machine tried to avoid them, but they managed to snare him. He struggled in the grip as the Sentinel unleashed hundreds of thousands of volts into Rhodey’s armor.

Although Rhodey couldn’t feel the voltage, it did cause his suit’s systems to go crazy momentarily. The HUD blinked on and off as it struggled with the surge. Rhodey could barely see, let alone lock onto his target. The Sentinel used this moment to cut loose with a powerful plasma blast from his chest unit.

Rhodey was released from the tendrils as he plummeted to the ground, the Sentinel following close behind. The Sentinel radioed back to the base, informing his commander that they’d captured a potential intruder.

Harlem

“A week! A whole goddamn week!”

Kasper Cole groaned in bed as his pregnant girlfriend, Gwen, continued her rant against him. He tried to focus on eating the soup his mother had brought him fifteen minutes ago, which was around the time Gwen entered the room.

She had no off switch.

“And what happens when you finally turn up again?” she asked. “You’re ‘injured.’ How? You can’t tell me. But you need to stay in bed for ‘a few days.’ Meanwhile, what the hell are we going to do while you’re not working?”

Kasper sighed. As the White Tiger, he had been on a mission for Nomad’s Secret Avengers. But Gwen didn’t know about that part of his life. And even if she had known about his identity as the White Tiger, Nomad made it very clear that their missions were strictly confidential—no one could know.

“Babe, I told you, I was called out of town on some consulting work,” he said.

“And what does that mean?” asked Gwen.

“The FBI needed some experts on drug trafficking, and the chief dropped my name,” said Kasper. “Now you know I can’t tell you more about it than that.”

“An ‘expert on drug trafficking’? Since when are you an expert on anything other than raising my blood pressure?” asked Gwen.

“I’m a narcotics officer, do I gotta spell it out for you?” asked Kasper.

“So you go help these guys out and they give you what for all that time you weren’t working?” asked Gwen.

“I got paid for the consultation. And for disability leave.”

“How much?”

Kasper’s cell phone sat on the bedside table and began ringing. The display read BLOCKED NUMBER and Kasper had an idea of what that meant. He grabbed the phone and answered the call, but motioned to the next room.

“Go check the account online,” he said.

“This better be worth the trouble…” muttered Gwen as she left the room.

Kasper turned his attention to the phone. The voice on the other end said, “would you be interested in better rates on your long-distance service?”

“That depends,” said Kasper. “Do they have phones in the Savage Land?”

 “How are you doing, Kasper?” asked Nomad from the other end.

“The sooner I can get out of this apartment, the better,” he said, keeping his voice low. A joyous scream of surprise came from the next room. Gwen had obviously checked the balance on the account. “What’ve you guys got going on, Jack?”

“We’re working a job in South America, something one of O’Grady’s former associates tipped us off to.”

“Just remember our deal,” said Kasper. “I help you out with these missions, you help me out with Triage and the 66 Bridges.”

“That’s why I was calling, actually. Bill’s been doing some checking into Grace & Tumbalt’s accounts. They’ve got pretty big connections with government types. Specifically Agency-types.”

“CIA?” asked Kasper. “Why would the CIA be doin’ business with the 66 Bridges?”

“That’s a mystery for another day. I’ve gotta get going, but heal up quick. We could use you back on duty.”

“Remember that’s the other part of the deal—I can only help you out sometimes. Maybe the rest of the team can run off from their home lives at a moment’s notice, but you don’t live with my girlfriend or my mother.”

Nomad just laughed before hanging up the phone. Kasper placed it back on the nightstand and finally decided to start enjoying his soup.

“Keviiiiiiiiiin!”

The shrill voice of his mother. Kasper sighed.

Osaka

Harada removed two Asahi beer bottles from the fridge and popped the caps off both. He passed one over to Jessica as he sipped the other. “In 1588, Kagenobu Yoshioka, the Hand’s founder, is recorded as saying, ‘the Hand has five fingers, each of which can exist independently of others. Not unlike the five islands that form Japan. However, when the Five Fingers of the Hand come together for a single, unified purpose…the Hand becomes an object of unwavering power.’ At first, the Five Fingers operated solely in Japan, occupying each of the five islands of the nation.”

Harada sat in one of the chairs., unbuttoning his suit jacket. “It wasn’t until after World War II that the Hand abandoned its nationalistic roots and planned to extend their reach across the globe. Now, the Five Fingers of the Hand are active in five regions of the world—North America, South America, Europe, Africa and Asia. The daimyo of the South American Finger is an opportunistic man named Bakuto.”

Jessica sat in the couch across from him. “We’ve got word that a group of ninja have been running experimental weaponry from just outside Colombia.”

“That isn’t within the Hand’s usual model, but I would not put it past Bakuto,” said Harada.

“What else can you tell me about him?” asked Jessica.

“He’s dangerous enough on his own, but he has a powerful lieutenant,” said Harada. “Carlos LaMuerto.”

“The Black Tarantula?” asked Jessica.

“The history of his mantle and his powers is tied to the Hand. He’s following in his ancestor’s footsteps.”

Jessica set her beer on the small table in front of her. “Thanks for your time, Ken. I’ll let you return to your guests.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” muttered the Silver Samurai.

The Steranko

Coulson turned away from the monitor he sat at, viewing the rest of the Avengers gathered nearby. “We’ve lost contact with Rhodes. His last transmission had him being pursued by Sentinel exo-pilots.”

Nomad, Ant-Man, Photon and Goliath were the only Avengers still present onboard the Steranko, the miniature Helicarrier that served as their mobile base of operations.

“We have to get him,” said Photon.

“We can’t, not without raising a ruckus,” said Goliath. “Those modified scanners are triggered to detect anyone with powers. Which means the four of us are out.”

“Yeah but with my powers, I could sneak in and out of there before they’d even find me,” said Ant-Man.

“No you couldn’t, the tech would pinpoint your location instantly,” said Nomad. “As much as I hate sitting around as well, we’ve only got one operative suited for this job.”

“And what are the rest of us supposed to do, Jack? Just sit around?” asked Photon.

Nomad fixed his gaze on her. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, Monica. I would’ve thought a former Interpol operative able to understand what we’re doing here. Once we get word from the Widow, we go in. Not a second before.”

“Incoming transmission from Drew,” said Coulson.

“Put her on the screen,” said Nomad.

The image of Spider-Woman appeared on the monitor. Nomad addressed her first. “Jessica, please tell me you’ve got some good news.”

“Looks like O’Grady’s old buddy was right, we are dealing with the Hand.”

“That still doesn’t make sense, since when are they involved in hi-tech arms running?” asked Goliath.

“Because it’s being done by one faction, the South American one. Run by an opportunist named Bakuto,” said Spider-Woman. “And in addition to Hand ninja, he’s also got help in the form of the Black Tarantula.”

“Anything else you can get for us over there?” asked Nomad.

“Actually yes, I’ve got an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

Spider-Woman smiled. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Sierra Nevada

Rhodey awoke still in his armor. He shook off his disorientation but he could barely move. His systems had been disabled somehow. When he looked up, he saw around half a dozen Hand ninja standing around him. And at the fore was a Japanese man sloppily dressed in a suit with sunglasses and spiked hair. In one hand, he held a katana sword, the blunt end of the blade resting on his shoulder.

“So you’re one of these American superheroes I keep hearing so much about,” he said. “I’m Bakuto, daimyo of the South American Finger of the Hand. And you…Iron Man’s sidekick, right?”

“Oh, you’re just asking for a beating, aren’t you, boy?” asked Rhodey. “And the name’s War Machine.”

“War Machine. Right.” Bakuto scoffed. “Well you won’t be doing much warmongering any more. We’ve disabled your armor’s systems and once we get past the fail safes, we’ll have it cracked open and reverse-engineered for the black market in no time.”

“What makes you think I came alone?” asked War Machine.

Bakuto smiled. “We’ve got that covered, too.”

Local enforcers guarded the perimeter of the factory. They were armed with assault rifles, probably recruited from corrupt South American governments. They were well-trained in guerilla tactics and were good at catching people who were in places they weren’t supposed to be.

The Black Widow stayed hidden in the brush. She had been monitoring the perimeter guards for over an hour, keeping track of their movements. One was a smoker and quite heavy at that. He stepped to the side and lit a cigarette, taking his fourth smoke break that hour. Each time he did, the Widow saw her window.

She rushed forward and fired her Widow’s Line from her bracelet. It latched onto the top of the chain-link fence and she zipped up. The line disconnected as she flew over the barbed wire and she shot another line with her second bracelet. It latched onto the roof of the factory and retracted to bring her on the roof.

Security was non-existent up there, not even a simple camera. This whole facility proved extremely easy to break into. Even for someone of her capabilities. She entered through the rooftop entrance and found herself in a pitch-black room.

Before she could draw her night-vision, the room lit up with a burst of energy that knocked her right off her feet. That’s when she realized her instincts were right—it was too easy. The lights came on and a large man dressed all in black stood over her. His eyes were glowing and a white spider was emblazoned on his full facemask.

“You are the Black Widow, right? Seems fitting we finally meet,” he said as the Widow began to get back to her feet. “I’m the Black Tarantula.”