FIGHT CLUB

Part I

By Wesley Overhults

SHIELD Safehouse 23

Jeanne Foucault had the same workout routine every day, or at least every day that she had access to the proper equipment. When she settled into life as a member of the Secret Warriors, Finesse was pleased to discover that their house and prison also had a gym. It was nothing on the level of the X-Men or the Avengers but Finesse didn’t require much. As long as there were mats and some basic gymnastics equipment, she could get by just fine.

Finesse’s lithe body swung through the air, her fingers gripped tight against the higher of the uneven bars. She made a few more rotations before pausing in a handstand on top of the bar. The world looked different when you were upside down and you could feel the blood rushing to your brain. Being in the air gave Jeanne a sense of freedom she didn’t have when she was on the ground. It was a freedom she had lacked ever since she was a child and her parents had died. Life wasn’t so good when you had to land on your own two feet instead of having someone there to catch you when you fell.

Finesse chose not to think about her parents a lot, especially not when she was working out or on a job. If her head wasn’t in the game one hundred percent, she knew she would make a mistake and it could cost her greatly. She finished her rotation on the bars and dismounted by flipping forward at the height of her next arc. She twisted her body through the air in a corkscrew before landing perfectly on the mats before her, flashes of light emanating from her hands. The glowing blades of her sai daggers jabbed into the imaginary stomachs of her phantom enemies. She twirled them with the grace and skill of any black belt, slashing at the air in front of her. At her mental command, the daggers elongated their blades into katanas even as she spun them in front of her like a shield. She continued with her kata, forming new movements in her mind to match her ever-changing weapons. She counted in her head, keeping rhythm so she wouldn’t lose her place as she sliced and jabbed through dead air with her swords before they turned into escrima sticks. She kept the weapons close to her, flipping them in quick, fluid strikes meant to first stun an opponent with blows to the head and then cripple him by going for his knees and legs.

Finesse spun in a pirouette and the stick in her left hand disappeared while the one in her right hand became a chain whip. She spun the whip around her body before launching herself into a series of handless cartwheels while still flinging the whip out to strike the air. She spun on her toe as she landed and held the ends of her whip in both hands, watching the weapon harden into a bo staff. She jabbed at the air in front of her with the staff before spinning it around in front of her and then bringing around to the back of her shoulder with one hand still on it. She held the staff out in front of her horizontally and brought her hands together in its middle before bowing to end her kata.

“A prettier sight I’ve yet to see,” praised Wipeout as he watched Finesse dissipate her weapon and move to get a towel.

“I heard you were out of town for a few days,” admitted Finesse. “It was nice to have you gone.”

“Nicer to be back,” countered Wipeout. “Daisy wanted me to take care of some business on my own. Hope you guys didn’t get too lonely without me.”

Finesse smirked at him before wiping the sweat from her brow and then draping the towel around her neck. She gazed at him with her icy, blue eyes almost as if she was sizing him up as an opponent in a fight. It was the way she dealt with people, dispatching them during a normal conversation the same way she would dispatch an enemy in combat.

“We managed,” she told him curtly. “So where did you go on your little errand for Daisy?”

“That would be telling,” noted Wipeout. “Why should I be the one to share everything in this relationship?”

“Ha,” she chuckled and for a few moments both of them thought it was a genuine laugh. “You think we have a relationship. That’s cute.”

“A guy can dream,” said Wipeout.

“And I’m sure you have a very active imagination,” returned Finesse as she brushed him aside and made her way to the exit so she could take a shower.

“I went back home and chased a mutant teenager all over town before I got him back into custody,” explained Wipeout. “Hold your applause please.”

“It’s held,” assured Finesse, turning to him and grinning at him. “For the record, I might have missed you.”

That was the only thing she said before leaving the gym. It took Frankie a moment to realize that she didn’t take his revelation as an opportunity to divulge more information about herself. That was how conversations with Jeanne went. She waited for the other person to make a mistake, to overexpose themselves, and she was always waiting with some condescending remark tailored precisely to fit just such a moment. Conversation with her was like combat. You had to be willing to let her make the first mistake. The problem was that she was too perfect in playing her game to make a mistake. It was one of the things that made her a constant challenge and Wipeout did enjoy challenges.

“You’re up early,” remarked Neon with a yawn as Finesse came into the living room on her way to the bathroom.

“I have to get up early if I want to get any time to myself around here,” countered the older girl as she watched Neon place her bowl of cereal on the coffee table. “Exactly who did the shopping for food?”

“I think Henry and Sebastian did,” said Neon.

“Then I’m going to have to go out myself just to make sure we get some decent food around here,” realized Finesse. “Knowing them, they probably took that money that we set aside and blew it all on junk food.”

“Tough crap because SHIELD’s not giving us anything until the beginning of next month,” reminded Neon.

“I’m not accustomed to being frugal with my money,” reminded Finesse. “I’m taking a shower and then going out to get some real food. I trust you can manage while I’m away.”

“Suit yourself,” said Neon as she went back to her cereal and her morning television.

Finesse rolled her eyes as she went into the bathroom that she and Neon had to share. Living with these people was a constant source of irritation for her. It was bad enough that she was forced to live her life like an animal in a cage thanks to her deal with SHIELD but it was even worse to live with others when she had been living alone for most of her life. Jeanne never saw herself as the kind of girl who was dependant on other people. She didn’t trust others, mostly because that sense of security she should have was long gone. She preferred to depend on herself, to trust herself because she at least knew what she was capable of. Other people were a liability because she couldn’t count on them for anything, even if it was a menial task like purchasing food.

“You got her?”

Tyler ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair before carefully glancing across the street at Finesse sitting at one of the outdoor tables at the bistro. He made sure she didn’t notice him before slipping around the corner and pressing himself against the building so he could have his conversation in private.

“I see her,” he said into the tiny radio transmitter in the collar of his jacket. “The boss is sure she’s the right one?”

“He says she’s the only one,” confirmed the voice. “You know the drill. Make the pitch and maybe give her a couple exhibition rounds. Exhibition, Tyler. You know what that means.”

“I won’t rough her up,” promised Tyler. “I can’t see why the boss would want her when I’m his best fighter. Poor thing probably can’t even throw a punch without breaking her nail.”

“Boss says she’s tougher than any of us and he wants her,” reminded the voice.

“He’ll get it then,” decided Tyler before ending the conversation and crossing the street.

Finesse remained blissfully unaware of such impending danger even as she calmly sipped her tea. Upon finally settling in to New York and her new life with SHIELD, she scoured the area to find a place that had good food, figuring correctly that her new roommates would be incapable of providing it themselves. She was practically a regular at the bistro, usually stopping in for breakfast as she was now. The world seemed a little more bearable once she had a good cup of fresh tea and a few croissants or perhaps a pastry if she was feeling particularly indulgent that day. Today looked like it might be a pastry day given her current level of irritation. That irritation was only heightened when a stranger proceeded to take a seat across the table from her.

“I believe you were just leaving,” she noted after taking a practiced sip of her tea and trying to maintain her composure.

“My name is Tyler,” said the man. “I have a proposal if you’re interested.”

“I’m retired for the moment,” she told him, a fact that was true enough. “You’re going to have to look elsewhere for a thief. Please be kind enough to let me finish breakfast in peace. Things will get very messy if you choose to continue this conversation.”

“My boss doesn’t want you to steal something for him,” said Tyler. “That’s not why he’s interested in you.”

“You assume I actually care,” said Finesse curtly. “A very large mistake on your part but I’m willing to overlook it. Leave.”

“I know what you do care about, Jeanne,” promised Tyler. “Well, at least my boss does. He knows about your parents, about how they were rich. They owned a chemical company, didn’t they?”

“Oh you are just ruining a perfectly adequate day,” said Finesse, trying not to let her anger show. She didn’t talk about her parents and she expected other people to show her the same courtesy and not mention them either. “You have five seconds to leave and forget this conversation ever happened. If you choose not to take advantage of my graciousness, I will make sure you are unable to ever walk again.”

“And if I told you that we have the man who murdered your parents?” inquired Tyler.

“I might care,” she admitted. “What do you want from me in return?”

“Walk with me,” suggested Tyler. “We’ll discuss it in private. Too many ears and eyes out here.”

Her instincts told her that this was stupid. In the years she spent living on the streets and honing her skills to become a world-class thief, Finesse had never heard anything about Warren Bernstein, the man who murdered her parents. The man was a ghost, a phantom that she stopped chasing long ago. In her younger days, Jeanne would’ve given anything to confront the man who had taken everything away from her. Now, she was more content to take everything back even if it was at someone else’s expense. Now, out of the blue, someone said he had Bernstein practically gift-wrapped for her. It was too much of a coincidence and her rational mind knew it. However, she never thought rationally when it came to him or her parents. That was why she chose to not think about them because the anger would only cloud her judgment. She was better than that, or at least she enjoyed telling herself that.

“Fine,” she decided, reasoning that there wasn’t anything this man could do to hurt her and that she wasn’t in any real danger anyway. “Lead the way.”

Tyler nodded and walked back across the street to the alley he had been skulking in only moments before. His boss had her pegged from the very beginning. He knew just the right buttons to push when it came to her and all it took was to give Tyler the right words to say. Tyler led the way into the alley with Finesse behind him. She immediately noted that it was a dead end and scanned the rooftops for signs of snipers. Whatever this stranger had in mind, he obviously didn’t come prepared enough. Finesse only wished she had thought to bring her weapon generators with her. She didn’t bring her earpiece either but she didn’t dwell on that. She could take care of herself as she always did.

“He said you’d be easy to con,” noted Tyler as he turned to her and began taking off his jacket. “I didn’t believe him but it turns out he was right.”

“It’s going to be one of those encounters then,” realized Finesse with a smirk. “At least I’ll get the chance to take out my frustrations on something other than a punching bag.”

Tyler didn’t say anything. He came at her even as she took a fighting stance. He opened with a roundhouse kick that she dodged without a second thought. He tried to follow through with another kick but Finesse instantly went low and took his legs out from under him with one sweep. She didn’t even bother to press her advantage, deciding instead to give him a chance to get back to his feet. It was a move of pure arrogance, an insult more than a gesture of respect or fairness. Tyler got back to his feet swiftly and tried to tag her with a couple punches. He succeeded in getting in a few shots but when he tried to follow it with an elbow strike, Finesse lashed out and jammed her foot into his kneecap, causing it to bend at a very awkward angle. She rubbed her aching jaw and watched Tyler try to pop his knee back into its proper place.

“I tried to be polite,” she told him. “I’d like you to remember that while you’re still conscious enough to do so.”

Finesse hit him with two stiff kicks to his ribs before spinning into a high roundhouse kick usually used by Capoeira fighters. Tyler caught her leg and swept her other one out from under her. Finesse tried to kick her leg free even as Tyler moved in closer to get at her. He wrapped his hand around her throat and she managed to use that arm to yank him into a triangle chokehold. Even as Finesse tried to knock him out, Tyler pulled something out of his pocket with his free hand. He jammed the syringe into one of Finesse’s exposed arms and from then it was a race to see who would lose consciousness first. Jeanne felt the sting of the needle and then things started to get hazy. The fast-acting tranquilizer raced through her bloodstream and her limbs began to get sluggish and heavy. She could no longer properly apply the chokehold and had to relinquish it.

“I want you to see this while you’re conscious enough,” jeered Tyler as he popped his dislocated knee back into place.

Finesse groggily watched as the wounded appendage instantly began to heal but she didn’t have the capability to process how it could happen. Her vision was swimming even as she tried to stand up and get back in the fight. All it took was one backhand from Tyler and the dizziness overtook her. She wobbled crazily before finally collapsing and slipping into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

“She’s down,” confirmed Tyler as he picked up his jacket and put it back on. “Pick her up so we can get this show on the road. Tell the boss his new prizefighter will have to prove herself tonight if she wants to stick around.”

SHIELD Safehouse 23

“She should’ve been back by now,” realized Wipeout.

“You know she likes her privacy,” reminded Composite.

“Well we’re about to do this briefing without her,” decided Quake. “Listen up, kids, because this is your assignment. Word has it that there’s a secret, underground fight club operating here in New York City. Normally SHIELD wouldn’t really give a crap except this club has some unusual methods of recruitment and some even stranger training practices. They stream their fights over the internet using a private website that’s virtually impossible to find unless you know where to look. Word is, they’re using MGH to ramp up the brutality of these fights.”

No one said anything. At this point, it was usually time for Finesse to speak up and tell everyone exactly what MGH was since she seemed to be an expert on almost everything. Without her around, no one had any clue what the illegal drug was capable of. Quake noticed this and sighed, wishing that Jeanne would return from whatever indulgence she went off to pursue.

“You wanna clue us in on what that is?” inquired Neon.

“MGH is an illegal, mutagenic drug that can give its users superhuman abilities,” explained Quake. “If these people are juicing themselves up on it then they’re putting themselves in a huge amount of danger. Also they’ve been known to kidnap innocent people to use as fighters in their death matches. They’re dangerous and SHIELD wants them shut down.”

“So how do we find them?” asked Composite.

“We’ve had the guys in the tech department working on finding their location based on the footage shown in their video stream,” said Quake. “From what we’ve discovered so far, they hold their fights in a warehouse somewhere in the city. We’ve been trying to narrow down the specific location but we’ve run into a problem. Of the possible locations, most of them are listed as being owned by a ‘Terrance Masters’. We think this is an alias for the super-villain named Taskmaster. It’s possible that he’s using this fight club as another of his training schools.”

“Then we’re going to have to start running down the list of locations,” decided Composite as Quake handed him the list. “Good thing there’s only five of them. Our best bet is to split up and check them out individually. Someone’s going to have to double up since we’re down a person.”

“Two down,” corrected Wipeout. “You guys have fun running around. I’m going to find Jeanne.”

“She probably said ‘screw it’ to this whole deal and ran off,” said Composite. “You know she didn’t want to be here in the first place.”

“She left those bracelets she uses,” countered Wipeout. “If she ran off then why leave those things here?”

“You’re getting played by her just like the rest of us,” declared Composite.

“And you’re the one who wanted to go back and save her when we ditched her on the Helicarrier,” retorted Wipeout. “C’mon, try to keep me from doing this.”

Composite stared at Wipeout and realized that realistically there was no way he could stop Frankie from doing whatever he wanted. The slippery Warrior could just pour himself through the cracks in the wood flooring and go wherever he wanted. He could leave at any time, as all of them could, and yet all of them chose to stay. Did Finesse decide to make a different choice? If she did then couldn’t they make the same choice as well?

“We’ve got a job to do,” said Composite as he turned to leave. “You’re welcome to help us.”

Requiem and Neon left with him, the three of them intent on checking out the locations on the list of Taskmaster hideouts. That left Wipeout and Quake in the living room of the safehouse. Frankie turned to Quake and realized there was no way he was getting out of the house unless he was leaving to do SHIELD business. Once again, he thought about trying to leave this outfit altogether but the need to find Finesse was more pressing than his concern for his own situation.

“I don’t think she left either,” admitted Quake, never taking her eyes off Wipeout. “Something happened to her and we need to find her. Could be that these people already found her.”

“If your tech people can come up with something that homes in on my genetic signature, can they do the same with her?” asked Wipeout, remembering that one of the agents who had gone to Hope Springs with him mentioned having a tracking device in case he decided to run away.

“I’ll get in touch with them and get them working on it,” assured Quake. “You’re coming with me to see them. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.”

Somewhere in Manhattan

“That could’ve gone better back there,” noted Neon.

With Requiem’s teleportation abilities, they were able to get around the city much quicker than using the car. They had already checked out two of the five locations on the list and both of them were empty. Right now, the three Secret Warriors were going for the third one and it looked like they were about to strike gold. Someone was definitely using the warehouse. There was too much activity there for it to be considered abandoned. Abandoned warehouses didn’t require men in black suits with guns patrolling it even though they thought no one could see them.

“Frankie’s head isn’t in the game,” reminded Composite. “He’s too busy worrying about Finesse.”

“You don’t think he might be right?” asked Neon as the three Warriors watched the warehouse from an alley across the street. “Was he right about you and him leaving her on the Helicarrier?”

“The three of us were contracted to steal the Caterpillar List,” explained Composite. “The job went sideways and Frankie decided to cut and run. I followed him but Finesse couldn’t so we left her behind. It was because of us that the list fell into HYDRA’s hands and that your uncle died. That’s why we’re here, Stephanie, and nobody feels that guilt more than me. Facts are facts though. Frankie knows that Finesse would’ve done the same if the roles were reversed. He just doesn’t want to believe that she is what she is.”

“And we are what we are?” asked Neon.

Composite didn’t have an answer for that. He looked across the street and realized that there was an opening in the guard rotations. He motioned for Requiem to teleport them into the empty space and Sebastian complied. Neon knew what Henry wanted even as they came out of the teleportation. When the guards turned to come back towards the Warriors, Neon blinded them with her powers. It gave Composite enough time to turn around, mimic the concrete of the wall in front of him, and smash through the door. The Warriors got into the warehouse and noticed that it wasn’t even a warehouse. The building was a factory and the Taskmaster was the foreman. The Warriors could see him in his garish costume, the ghostly, white cloak flowing from his back. His skull-themed mask offered no expression or hint of the man underneath. Yet all the Warriors could tell he was angry about something and they all knew what the something was.

“You must be the Taskmaster,” noted Composite. “Or do you prefer to go by Terrance Masters these days? We’re with SHIELD and you’ve shown up on our hit list. Where’s our teammate?”

“Hell if I know and hell if I care,” answered Taskmaster before pulling out his sword and jumping off the catwalk he used to oversee the progress of his students. “Clear out, boys. This is a job for the grownups.”

Taskmaster waited for the Warriors to come at him. His photographic reflexes instantly began to catalog their fighting styles. The burly one was your basic brawler. He fought like the Hulk, always going for brute strength over precision. The girl wasn’t a fighter by any stretch of the imagination. He could tell her hand-to-hand skills were limited to the most basic of self-defense moves so he wasn’t worried about her. The other man, the lanky one, was an enigma. Taskmaster had trouble reading him because he kept teleporting around. It didn’t matter though. He had fought against the best all the way from Captain America to Daredevil to Spider-Man. Anything these kids could throw at him, he could handle without breaking a sweat.

Composite struck first with a clubbing blow that Taskmaster easily parried. His sword grated against Henry’s concrete skin but that was the ghoulish criminal’s plan. He spun and struck Requiem with the shield on his other arm even as the Warrior reappeared from a teleportation. He blocked another attempted blow from Composite and then stabbed at his heart. The blade didn’t pierce Henry’s skin but he instinctively moved backwards to dodge the attack. That was just the movement Taskmaster wanted because it allowed him to step forward and hook Neon’s foot with his, taking her to the floor even as he continued to slash at Composite. He used his shield to block his vision when Stephanie tried to retaliate for the trip, never keeping his gaze off Composite. Composite blocked one of the slashes but he soon realized that his other two teammates were already down without putting up a fight. Taskmaster pulled a firearm from his belt and held it in his free hand, pointing its barrel right at Henry’s forehead.

“Finesse,” said Composite. “Where is she?”

“Grenade launcher,” retorted Taskmaster. “It’ll go through that thick skull of yours.”

“Taskmaster’s not the problem,” cut in Quake over the radio. “The website these guys are using just started up a new stream. Guess who the star of the show is?”

The Bowery, Moments Ago

Finesse mumbled something under her breath and sleepily opened her eyes. She uncurled herself from the ball she was in. That was when she noticed the manacles that clamped her hands together and were connected to the floor via a metal chain. Once she realized her situation, she immediately began yanking at the chain, trying in vain to pull it out of the floor. It was no use though. She was stuck there until she could figure out how to escape. Jeanne looked around the darkened room and noticed the only source of light was the one coming from over her head.

“You’re a hard girl to find, Jeanne Foucault,” said a voice coming from a speaker system in the room. “You were better off on your own though. Once you signed up with SHIELD, it was easier to get at you.”

“Well now you’ve got me,” confessed Finesse, visibly angry at her situation. “Don’t keep a girl in suspense. Why am I here?”

“Oh that wouldn’t be much fun if I told you,” said the voice. “I sent my best fighter after you because I knew that you were special. I’ve seen your work and you are quite the fighter. I would love to have you in my stable if you’re interested.”

“Can’t say the proposal strikes me,” retorted Finesse, continuing to pull at the chain that connected her hands to the floor.

“If you wanted free, you just had to ask,” said the voice.

The manacles Finesse was wearing clicked open and unlatched themselves from her wrist. She immediately ran into the darkness of the room. She couldn’t see what was going on or where she was going but she knew she had to get out of wherever she was. Jeanne felt a door and opened it, moving into a hallway. The lights flickered in the hallway and the one at the other end lit up fully. Finesse ran towards it and found herself in a larger room when she passed through the doorway. Like the room where she was held captive, this one only had one light source in it.

“This isn’t funny!” snapped Finesse as she groped blindly around the room before she found a door and instinctively passed through it, thinking it was the exit.

“Not meant to be,” said the voice. “I know how serious you are. You take a lot of pride in yourself and your work, Jeanne. I admire that because I’m the same way. I take pride in what I do as well.”

“Nobody calls me that!” shouted Finesse to the seemingly empty room.

The lights in the room suddenly turned on and she could see that she had gone out of the frying pan and into the fire. She found herself inside a giant cage like the kind she knew that mixed martial arts fighters were accustomed to using. She couldn’t see anything behind the cage, the light only illuminating its confines and leaving everything else in darkness. She could feel that there were people watching her from outside the confines of the cage. She could feel their predatory eyes on her, gazing at her like a piece of meat on display in a butcher’s shop. She hated being looked at like that. It made her want to break someone in half.

“Nobody until now,” stated a man, his voice the same as the one that was coming over the speaker system. He stepped into the cage. “Is that any way to treat me, Jeanne?”

“I don’t know who the hell you are and I don’t give a damn,” stated Finesse before pouncing towards the man. “Let me out!”

The stranger backhanded Finesse with a strength that wasn’t natural. She hit the floor with a thud and immediately got back to her feet. By the time she had, the stranger had left the cage and locked her inside. She snarled at him and banged on the door of the cage, trying to kick the thing open so she could get free.

“My name is Riot,” said the man. “I’m the humble owner and operator of this little establishment. I think you’ll grow to like us when you get to know us. I’m sure you’ll have ample time to do that.”

“I have friends and they’re going to rip you apart when they get their hands on you,” assured Finesse. “I’m going to stand there and watch as they do it and I’m going to laugh. I promise you that.”

“I promise you that you don’t have any friends, Jeanne,” retorted Riot. “You might pretend you do, maybe even believe that sometimes, but you know as well as I do that you don’t have any friends. You do have family though, Jeanne. You have me and you have our father.”

Next Issue: It’s the fight of Finesse’s young life as she runs the gauntlet against Riot and his fight club.