COME TOGETHER

Part I

By Derrick Ferguson

The blazing form of The Human Torch was looked upon with wonder and amazement by the citizens of Seattle. Against the slate gray of the dour, grim sky the brilliant orange-red of The Human Torch’s flame trail was incredibly distinctive. Seattle didn’t see many superheroes and certainly they rarely saw one as spectacular as the flaming android.

The Human Torch spied his objective and sped downward, expertly twisting his body into his landing position; legs downward, knees bent and relaxed while generating a cushion of superheated air to slow his descent. The Human Torch landed as softly as a goose feather dropped on a pillow and the flames sheathing his muscular body ribboned away.

Jim Hammond had to admit, the Kwaidan Building was every bit as beautiful as he had been told it would be. Looking more like a work of art, curving upwards toward the dingy Seattle sky, it was known worldwide as a leading example of a state of the art “smart building” A computerized network, it qualified almost as an intelligence in it’s own right.

Jim Hammond walked across the elegantly designed plaza with its seven modernistic fountains and the smoked glass double doors of the building slid open at his approach. The lobby looked as big as a basketball court and Jim briskly walked to the horseshoe shaped receptionist desk. He saw no security guards but Jim was willing to bet that if he started a ruckus of any kind he’d have more security down on him than he’d know how to handle.

The receptionist was pulling off the sexy librarian look very well. Her deep-set brown eyes behind the Armani eyeglasses were bright and intelligent with just the slightest hint of flirtiness. Her very fine, very curly hair was an intriguing shade of beige.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hammond and welcome to The Kwaidan Building. My name is Monica. How may I help you?”

“I’m here on official business. If necessary I can produce my credentials confirming my status as both a Champion Status S.H.I.E.L.D. operative as well as a reserve member of The Avengers.”

Monica smiled with brilliant white teeth that looked brand new in their unnerving bright cleanliness. “Oh, that certainly won’t be necessary, Mr. Hammond! Your bona fides were established as you walked across the plaza. A hundred and two separate sensors identified you and your government status before you got halfway across.”

“I see. Outstandingly sophisticated technology you have here.” Jim was positive he’d been scanned in every way possible and that there were countermeasures against his power already activated. This was a situation that would have to be handled diplomatically.

“So what can we do for you today, Mr. Hammond?” Monica’s voice was as chirpy and cheerful as a Kindergarten teacher on the first day of school.

“I’d like to see whoever is in charge here. It’s an urgent matter concerning national security.”

“Well…Professor Ban is extremely busy…but I’m sure she can find time for such a great hero such as you, Mr. Hammond!”

Monica was getting to be a little annoying, Jim mused. “And who is Professor Ban?”

Monica looked at Jim as if he’d just asked her who Santa Claus was. “She’s the administrator of this facility, sir. And a very brilliant woman in her field. She’s one of the greatest living scientists today.”

“I’ve never heard of her. And I know some pretty smart scientists myself. I’ve never heard them so much as mention this Professor Ban. I’m talking about men like Anthony Stark, Reed Richards, Henry Pym-“

Monica cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, them,” she said in a voice that plainly said she didn’t think much of them at all. “Professor Ban is in a league of her own, Mr. Hammond.”

“Now I want to meet such a remarkable person more than ever.”

“If you’ll just give me a minute I’ll let Professor Ban know you’re here.”

Bruce Banner’s face as he looked at the monitor was impossible to read. His body was held stiffly. Janelle Ban stood at his side. She had a good idea of what he was thinking.

“You see, Uncle Bruce? I didn’t lie to you. The Human Torch is here as point man to reconnoiter for Hardbottle and his gang of mercenary killers. If Hammond is here then Hardbottle is somewhere close.” Janelle Ban leaned down to speak directly into Bruce’s ear. “Hammond must be taken quietly and I can do that. We must be very careful about this—” Bruce’s head whipped around smartly and Janelle took a step back, taken by surprise by what she saw.

Bruce’s face was twisting strangely, the bones underneath the skin actually reshaping and reforming. Bruce’s eyes had transformed from their placid brown to fiery emerald green. And the voice that came out of his throat was that of The Hulk: “Hammond’s mine!”

Bruce was obviously struggling hard to stay in control. The hands that held on to the arms of the chair were shaking, the thin ropy muscles of his biceps and forearms standing out from the conflict going on inside that body. A tortured croak came out of his throat.

“Uncle Bruce….?”

“Shut up!” the voice was harsh, ragged, but it was Bruce Banner’s voice.

The Hulk was trying his best to break free. The white-hot hatred The Hulk had for The Human Torch was burning inside of Bruce’s body. The very marrow of his bones felt as if it were boiling. The Hulk wanted to burst free, riot and rampage and most of all, kill.

But Bruce Banner had been expecting this when Janelle had told him the Human Torch was on his way and was fully prepared to clamp down when The Hulk tried to assert himself and take control. It wasn’t happening.

At least not yet.

Bruce slumped back in the chair, wiping at the thick sweat on his forehead and cheeks, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon. Janelle said nothing, merely watched quietly as Bruce gradually maintained control and sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“Are you all right?” Janelle asked after about a minute of silence.

“Yeah…I’m fine….fine. What about Hammond?”

Janelle’s earcom bleeped. She touched it and said; “Professor Ban here. Yes, I can see him on my monitor. Ask him to wait. I’ll be right down. I’ll be using image number one so don’t be surprised. Thank you, Monica.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hammond’s not our problem. At worse he wants to take you into protective custody. Hardbottle is our real problem. But Hammond can be a nuisance. I’ll take care of him. You stay here. I’ll return shortly.” Janelle eyed Bruce closely. “I take it that you’ve decided to accept my offer?”

“Let me put it this way; let’s deal with Hardbottle and his headhunters and we’ll sort out where we’re at when it’s all over.”

“That’s not good enough, Uncle Bruce. I’m risking a lot. Too much to continue aiding you without a guarantee.”

“What are you asking for, exactly?”

“I want your help in my gamma radiation research. I want The Hulk’s help to protect me against the conspiracy I’ve told you about.”

“Ah. This vast, all-powerful and all-knowing conspiracy that has supposedly been operating without anybody’s knowledge for decades now. Except for you, of course. You know about it.”

“I’ve barely peeled back the top layer but what I’ve seen so far scares me, Uncle Bruce. And it will scare you to if you knew what plans it has for this poor, pitiful planet.”

“And that’s another thing: if this planet is so poor and pitiful then why should you care what this conspiracy does?”

“Because for better or for worse, Earth is my home now. K’ai is denied to me. I have nowhere else to go and if this conspiracy carries through on its plans then things will not go well for any of us.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “I still don’t trust you. You do a lot of talking but you don’t say a damn thing. But I trust Hardbottle and Hammond even less. So I’m with you. For now.”

“Fair enough.” Janelle Ban nodded and walked toward the exit. “I’ll deal with Hammond.”

“What about Hardbottle?”

Felton Hardbottle lowered his binoculars and said in a clear firm voice; “Shit on toast.”

Agent Bullet, sitting on a portable stool strong enough to bear his weight didn’t answer right away. He was industriously chomping away at a mouthful of Utz potato chips. He had already eaten three family sized bags and was working on his fourth. “You sound perturbed.”

“Pissed off royally is a more accurate way to put it.”

The two men were on a rooftop a quarter mile away from The Kwaidan Building. They’d arrived an hour ago and Hardbottle had been examining the building and the dome shaped structure behind it.

“What’s changed and how much is it going to screw with our plan?” Bullet wanted to know.

“Hammond’s arrived. Just walked into the joint like he was going to The Sisters of the Revolving Door Tabernacle’s Annual Cotillion and Fish Fry. Dumb bastard. He’ll tip off Banner for sure. That’s if the Hulk doesn’t take over and rip Hammond’s head off.”

“Anyway you look at it, we’re compromised,” Bullet finished off the bag, burped and crumpled it up, let it drop to join its similarly crumpled brothers on the gravel. “So what do we do now, boss?”

“Let’s go rejoin the kids and I’ll lay it all out then. C’mon.” Bullet policed his empty potato chip bags and the two men walked over to the rooftop entrance and walked down the 20 flights of the office building until reaching the street. Their War Wagon was parked in the delivery entrance. Hardbottle’s bribe of two thousand dollars to the building manager ensured that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

The rest of the team looked up expectantly as Hardbottle and Bullet walked up the ramp and into the rear of the truck. Hardbottle walked over to what looked to be a blackboard with a pane of clear, window-sized glass instead of dark grey slate. Hardbottle removed a memory card from the binoculars and slipped it into a slot on the board. Immediately, a digital image of The Kwaidan Building appeared in the glass. So clear and sharp was the resolution of the image that it indeed did look like a window.

Ammo, Annabel St. Cyr and The Dreadknight sat up a little straighter in their seats. They could smell blood, these three. Like Hardbottle and Bullet they were killers straight up and down. And no matter what their avowed mission was supposed to be there would be a killing, maybe several before this day ended.

“Hammond’s screwed us over,” Hardbottle jumped right into the briefing with no preliminaries. “I had intended on taking a different approach but that’s shot to shit now. Hammond walking in bold as brass they way he did has tipped off Banner and anybody helping him.”

“So what now?” Ammo demanded. “I thought the idea was that you was gonna talk to Banner.”

“I still intend to. But I don’t think it’s gonna get anywhere so…” Hardbottle gestured at the Barrett M82. “You can fire that thing?”

“Like I told you, man. If it fires a bullet I know what to do with it.”

Hardbottle nodded. “I want you and that rifle on the roof of this building. With those three adamantium bullets. If The Hulk comes out of that building, you use those bullets. Don’t waste ‘em.”

Ammo’s face split in a huge grin.

“And one more thing, Ammo…if you shoot me or anybody else on the team…in fact, if those goddamn bullets hit anything but The Hulk be advised that I’ve taken out ‘insurance’ that you won’t live twenty-four hours longer.”

Ammo was still grinning. “Yeah, right.”

Hardbottle grinned right back. “You heard of a guy name’a Philip Wallace Sterling? Pretty big shot in your community I understand.”

Ammo visibly reacted at the mention of the name. “Shit, Hardbottle…you didn’t have to go there, brother…Sterling…that cat ain’t human.”

“He’s human enough to accept a two million dollar life insurance policy on my behalf. As long as I stay alive, Ammo, Sterling doesn’t come looking for you. So when you shoot, you better shoot straight.”

Ammo subsided and Hardbottle continued: “Annabel, I want you outside in the plaza. You’re our backup. If I call for you, come inside on the double.”

Annabel smoked her thin, sweet smelling cigar and merely nodded.

“And what of me, Colonel?” The Dreadknight asked.

“You stay with Ammo. I trust you enough for you to rely on your judgment as to what to do if this thing doesn’t go right.”

The Dreadknight’s silver mask flashed as he cocked his head slightly to the side and his muffled voice was amused as he asked; “And do you expect things to go wrong, Colonel?”

“Hell, why not? Ain’t a damned thing went right since I drew this chickenshit assignment.”

The Leader’s chuckle was well satisfied as he angled the flier up and away from Serenity Base, nestled behind The Kwaidan Building like a baby chick snug up against its mama. The flier was loaded down with the equipment The Leader had stolen from Bruce Banner’s secret Nevada lab. He’d also helped himself to some of the equipment from his own lab back at Serenity Base.

Janelle Ban was far too busy with her own problems to concern herself with The Leader and that suited him just fine. With most of the staff of The Kwaidan Building either evacuated, locked down or on high alert, he’d been able to circumvent the security protocols and take his leave.

He would be his own man now. No longer working for obsessed old fools like Ross or young ones like Ban. From now on The Leader would live up to his name. He would seclude himself away in a remote location and work on his own plans and schemes.

And let the world beware.

“Mr. Hammond! Such a pleasure to meet you! I’m Professor Janelle Ban! Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Jim reflected that if everybody who worked here was this cheerful all the time he might have to request that an investigation be started into the possible use of recreational pharmaceuticals at this facility.

Professor Ban was a short, elegant woman with neck length chestnut hair worn in a simple style. Jim noticed she had no eyebrows. Her handshake was firm and she seemed genuinely happy to see him.

“I’ve got friends in Washington who informed me that you were heading here to see me, Mr. Hammond.”

“And here I was hoping to keep my visit a surprise.”

“Then you should never tell anybody in Washington anything. It’s the worst place in the world to keep a secret. You should know that.”

“I suppose I keep thinking of Washington as it was, not how it is now. Professor Ban, is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

“Of course, of course! We’ll take my private elevator to my office and we’ll have some tea while we talk.”

Jim was somewhat perplexed by the warm reception he was getting. And as far as he could tell, Professor Ban was totally honest and sincere. They walked down a long corridor to a bank of at least twenty elevators and Professor Ban pressed her thumb against the touchpad. The elevator doors opened smoothly and they stepped in. The elevator started its ascent.

“I’ll get right to the point, Professor. I know Bruce Banner is here. It is my intention to place him under arrest and escort him to a government facility for incarceration.”

“Really?”

“Professor Ban, I’m sure that you know how dangerous Bruce Banner can be. When he transforms into The Hulk, he’s an incredibly savage monster capable of the most destructive rampages imaginable.”

“Is he?”

“Professor Ban, I get the distinct impression you’re not taking me seriously!”

“Quite the opposite, Mr. Hammond. I take you very seriously indeed.”

And then Professor Ban stuck her intangible left arm right into Jim’s chest and ever-so-slightly solidified it. Jim Hammond’s body jerked and thrashed about like a catfish on a line that’s suddenly been yanked out of the water. Weird gargling sounds came out of his throat. His entire body convulsed as if he’d stepped on a high voltage power line and then he crashed to the floor of the elevator and was still.

Janelle Ban’s false image faded away, revealing her natural appearance. The irony of her attack made her smile. She had read in various files about the android avenger called The Vision and his favorite method of attack: turning his arm intangible, thrusting it inside of a human and then slightly solidifying it, thereby causing a massive shock to that human’s nervous system which generally knocked them out for hours.

Jim Hammond was an android, true but he still had a nervous system, albeit artificial and therefore subject to the same kind of attack. The elevator doors opened, revealing four men with a gurney waiting in the hall. Janelle gestured at the inert form of The Human Torch. “Secure him and notify me when it’s done.”

Monica looked up from her desk at the two men approaching her reception desk. Both men looked as serious as gravediggers who have been working overtime. The black man in the leather trench coat was dwarfed by his partner, who looked like a mountain given the power of mobility. Monica smiled with blazingly bright cheerfulness. “Good afternoon, gentlemen! How may I help you this afternoon?”

“I’m Lt. Colonel Felton Hardbottle, United States Army. This is my associate Agent Bullet. I’m here to speak with the administrator of this facility in regards to a matter concerning Dr. Robert Bruce Banner who is a guest of this facility.”

Monica blinked rapidly a few times before answering. “I’m sure you must be mistaken, Lt. Colonel. I’m positive that there is no Dr. Banner employed-“

“Just ‘Colonel’ is fine, young lady. And I didn’t say that Dr. Banner was employed by you good people. In any case, he’s here and I want to speak with him. Immediately.”

Monica blinked again in that odd rapid manner before answering; “Colonel Hardbottle I’m afraid that it simply isn’t that easy. The entire building is under a high level security alert. Perhaps if I arraigned for you to speak with our Head of Security—”

“Where’s Hammond?” Hardbottle asked.

“Beg pardon?” Monica’s face was as open and honest as church on Easter Sunday.

“Jim Hammond, The Human Torch. He’s a member of my team. He walked in here not more than ten minutes ago on the same mission: to speak with Banner. Where is he?”

“Colonel Hardbottle I really think it would be best if—”

“Enough of this bullshit. Bullet, make her talk.”

Moving with that incredible speed that he in no way looked capable of, Bullet reached over the reception desk for Monica. Only to have her nimbly jump back out of the way. “How rude,” she said mildly.

Bullet nimbly leaped over the desk with the agility of a teenage Russian gymnast. It was both comical and scary to see such a big man move with such fluid grace. But Monica had moves of her own as she demonstrated when she crawled right up the nearest polished gray marble wall with the dexterity of Spider-Man himself, her hands and feet adhering to the wall with no problem at all.

“Son of a bitch!” Hardbottle threw back his trenchcoat and got hold of the FN P90 personal defense weapon which was hanging on a leather sling under the coat. He brought the weapon up as Monica paused, turned her head in an impossible angle that would have broken the neck of a human and a slim tube emerged from her mouth. A storm of razor sharp flechettes emerged from the tube.

Bullet snatched up Hardbottle, slung him over a shoulder and ran for the smoked glass doors at tremendous speed, the flechettes spanging and ricocheting in his wake.

Steel shutters three inches thick boomed into place, closing off all exits. Bullet kept charging, confident he could smash his way right through those steel plates.

Bullet hit one of the steel shutter and promptly bounced off as if the shutter were made of rubber and not steel. Both he and Hardbottle went flying.

“Force field!” Bullet shouted, getting to his feet and helping Hardbottle up. “We’re not getting’ out that way!”

“Then we better start thinking about how to go that way,” Hardbottle advised, motioning at the combat ready security team that poured out of the elevators and rushed at them, bringing up their machine guns while Monica watched from her perch on the wall, tube retracted into her mouth and replaced with that unnerving gleaming white smile.

Janelle Ban returned to the room where she had left Bruce Banner. He was still looking at the monitor. He turned as Janelle entered. “Where’s Hammond?”

Janelle didn’t like the look of Bruce. He was again sweating like an overworked pack horse. His eyes were agitated and his voice thick as if he were having trouble talking around his tongue.

“Secure. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“How about those two?”

“They’ll probably get past the security but I never expected my guards to do more than delay them while I put other protocols into action. I-“

Bruce suddenly doubled over, arms wrapped around his mid-section. “It’s happening! He’s too strong! He wants Hammond too much!”

Janelle had expected this. She whipped out a neural inhibitor she’d been saving for just such an emergency. Once she slapped it onto the back of Bruce’s neck, the transformation from Bruce into The Hulk would be negated.

That is, if she had the chance to do so. Bruce’s arm came up and slapped Janelle smartly upside the head, throwing her back against a console, the neural inhibitor flying from her hand.

“Hammond!” Bruce shrieked, the shirt on his back tearing, his jeans ripping. As gamma radiation exploded from his cells, a curious side effect took place, one that always affected the fabric of whatever clothing Bruce wore when he turned into the Hulk. The denim fabric of his jeans turned purple. The remnants of his shirt fell away as Bruce Banner threw back his head, howling in The Hulk’s voice; “I’m coming to kill you, Hammond!”

“No!” Janelle struggled to her feet. “You’ll ruin everything! I can handle this!”

The Hulk roared and swung both arms wide, shattering millions of dollars of equipment. “HAMMOND! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Janelle Ban could only stay out of the way as The Hulk ran right through a reinforced wall, bellowing his rage. He was out of control and there was no telling what would happen next.

NEXT: The Hulk vs. Hardbottle’s Hulkbusters and The Human Torch is right in the middle!