COME TOGETHER

Part III

By Derrick Ferguson

The Dreadknight’s power lance hummed as the linear accelerator that powered it achieved maximum levels. Against The Hulk he knew that he would have to strike hard, strike fast and do the most damage he could while the man-monster was still healing.

His Hellhorse swooped in a banking left turn, diving down onto The Hulk as the Dreadknight took aim and triggered the firing stud. The blast pods erupted with twin concussive electromagnetic beams that rocked the surprised Hulk and brought him whirling around with a savage roar.

On a rooftop a quarter of a mile away, Ammo had already sighted The Hulk, drawing a solid bead right between The Hulk’s eyes and he squeezed the trigger, sending an adamantium bullet screaming towards it’s intended target.

But The Dreadknight’s ill-timed attack turned The Hulk around the wrong way. The bullet did not hit the emerald titan between the eyes as intended, but it did hit him squarely in the back of his throat. A fist sized chunk of flesh was torn away, lime green blood geysered from the frightening wound.

The Hulk tried to roar but found it difficult with half his throat gone. One great green hand reached up and slapped against the gaping wound. Powerful as that hand was, blood still squirted between those fingers, each as large as an average sized man’s thigh. The Hulk stumbled in a circle, eying the circling Dreadknight on his soaring Hellhorse with open, naked contempt.

Ammo reached for the second of his adamantium bullets, muttering into his throat mike, “Dammit, D, stay outta my line of fire! I had him dead bang, man!”

“My apologies,” Dreadknight replied in that voice that never lost its even tone no matter what. In fact, the only time Ammo had ever heard him raise his voice was when he found out his Hellhorse was locked up by an animal rights group. “I allowed my anger to get the best of me.”

Hardbottle’s voice broke in and the both of them fell silent as he snapped orders; “Ammo, get another bullet ready and don’t you miss next time! Dreadknight, set him up for Bullet to get in there! If we can get his hand off that wound, he may lose enough blood to weaken him and allow us to-“

But Dreadknight was already on the attack again, diving right at the shrieking behemoth that was waving at Dreadknight, inviting him to come on and take another shot at him.

Again two jagged bolts of concussive electromagnetic energy blasted downwards. But now The Hulk was ready and braced for it. It washed over him in a hissing aura.

The Dreadknight leaped from his Hellhorse, slapping its flank as he did so. The Hellhorse broke off its dive, narrowly avoiding the massive right arm of The Hulk as he tried to grab the Hellhorse. The Dreadknight held his power lance like a spear as he plummeted downward and jammed the power lance between two of The Hulk’s fingers. The power lance went into the still gaping, gushing wound and The Dreadknight set the power lance to overload.

The Hulk howled as the electromagnetic energy rampaged inside of his body, frying organs and tissue.

“Holy shit,” Ammo half-whispered. “Damn if ol’ spooky ain’t takin’ the fight to him!”

Hardbottle’s voice crackled in his ear. “Focus on your job, dammit! Bullet’s gonna get in there and turn The Hulk around so’s you can get a clear shot! And this time be sure you take that fucker’s head clean off!”

“…and we’re still trying to get confirmation on the identity of the superhumans battling The Hulk. The only one we’ve been able to positively identify is James Hammond, The Original Human Torch which leads us to believe that his companions may be members of The West Coast Avengers. But there’s unconfirmed speculation that they may be S.H.I.E.L.D. Super Agents…”

The Vice-President of The United States watched CNN on the 50 inch plasma TV in his office with eyes like cold gray stones. He’d been watching for the past ten minutes, unmoving and unblinking.

His Chief of Staff, Terry Clark walked into his office, closing it firmly behind him. He walked over to stand next to the Vice-President’s chair and did not speak until The Vice-President spoke.

“A real Christless mess, huh, Terry?”

“Yes, sir. No Christ at all in this situation.”

The Vice-President sighed and lowered the sound and swung around to look up at Clark. “Talk to me.”

“Any and all records pertaining to this operation have been destroyed by me personally. That includes phone and computer records. There is absolutely nothing to connect you and Lt. Colonel Hardbottle and so there is nothing to connect you to The Hulk. I also took the liberty of destroying all records connecting you with The Kwaidan Corporation and Serenity Base. You are totally in the clear, sir. Except for one loose end.”

“And that would be…?”

“Hardbottle, sir.”

The Vice-President waved a confident hand. “Hardbottle isn’t a loose end. Whatever else he may be, Lt. Colonel Hardbottle is a good soldier. And he’d cut his own throat before giving me up. Of that I have no doubt. Besides-“ The Vice-President turned back to the savage battle on the TV. “-there’s also the very real chance that Lt. Colonel Hardbottle won’t be alive by the end of the day.”

Bullet charged in like an insane bull elephant. Before The Hulk knew what had hit him, Bullet had blasted in four blows that would have ripped the head off normal humans and many the head of a superhuman as well. But The Hulk was simply rocked back on his heels.

The man-monster recovered, reached up to his neck and ripped out the power lance, flinging it at Bullet who evaded it with that amazing speed and agility that was at once sweet and scary to witness.

Bullet was grinning, his blood-lust raging. It was rare that he could really cut loose with his full speed and power. He intended to enjoy this as much as he could before Ammo administered the coup de grace. He leaped at the Hulk, lashing upwards with interlocked hands in a devastating double handed uppercut that threw the Hulk up and backwards, his hand coming free from his mangled neck. A spray of green blood splashed over Bullet’s gleeful face.

Hardbottle made his way over to where Jim Hammond was on his hands and knees, watching the fight. Hardbottle grabbed Jim under his left armpit and tried to yank him upwards. “Rise and shine, firecracker. We got big green on the ropes an’ if you can get in there an’ back up Bullet-“

Jim pulled away from Hardbottle and snapped; “I can’t help anybody, damn you! I’ve completely exhausted my energy reserves! I’ve been trying to flame on and I can’t!”

“You mean you’re powerless?”

“Yes!”

“Then what fuckin’ good are you?” Hardbottle viciously kicked Jim in the face, sending him sprawling on the broken concrete of the plaza and turned back to the fight between Bullet and The Hulk.

Bullet sprang into the air and came down on The Hulk’s chest with both feet, driving him into the ground. Bullet’s arms blurred as he pistoned punches into The Hulk’s face, seeking to simply pound the man-monster into submission.

Dreadknight danced around the combatants. There were two whip-like swords in his hands, crackling with electromagnetic energy.

The Hulk pushed upwards, swatted Bullet with a backhand blow.

Hank Aaron couldn’t have hit a fastball any better on his best day.

Bullet sailed up, up and away, disappearing over the tops of buildings two blocks away and was gone from sight. The Hulk shook Bullet’s blood off the hand that had struck the blow and turned to The Dreadknight with a contemptuous snort. “An’ what do you think yer gonna do with those strings, little man?”

Janelle Ban laughed in unholy delight as she felt her molecular structure bond with the artificial intelligence of The Kwaidan Building. Gamma radiation flooded her cells from the very heart of the Gamma Core than powered The Kwaidan Building. Janelle Ban rejoiced in the power and glory that was gamma radiation…the radiation that had given her life and power and would one day allow her to conquer this world.

But not today. Today she would have the wisdom to run, recover her strength, heal and refresh. And she would take The Kwaidan Building with her as well. The building had many, many secrets that must be safeguarded.

But what of her father? She had so many plans for them…with his limitless strength and her unmatched intelligence…they could have done so much for this poor, beleaguered planet. Healed so many wounds. But it was not meant to be.

At least for now.

Janelle Ban was now a living conduit of pure gamma energy, bound to The Kwaidan Building as if they were one. And as one they would leave this place…

Ammo curled his finger around the trigger of the Barrett M82 as the back of The Hulk’s head came into clear view in the crosshairs of his sniper scope. “Gotcha now, nutknocker,” he muttered.

And that’s when The Kwaidan Building decided to go crazy.

The building was outlined in an aura of crackling emerald gamma energy. It swirled around the building, a howling corona that lit up the sky over Seattle.

The Hulk was the only one who wasn’t knocked off his feet by the sudden burst of energy. Hardbottle, The Dreadknight and Jim were sent tumbling like discarded newspapers.

The charred corpse of Annabel St. Cyr was snatched up in the swirling storm of energy and was never found.

“NO!” The Hulk howled. “Get back here, you BITCH!”

There was a final, shuddering burst of energy and The Kwaidan Building was gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Nothing remained to have shown that it had ever been there. Along with Serenity Base, the Kwaidan Building no longer existed.

The Hulk dropped to his knees, his bestial howlings filling the air with such a horrendous din that dogs all over the city joined in the howling.

Hardbottle sat up, coughing and spitting out small pieces of grit. He was covered in dust from head to toe. He looked around the now silent and empty plaza. Where once the imposing and mighty Kwaidan Building had been was now just empty air. He thumbed his throat mike. “Ammo…come in…Ammo…”

Dead air. It could have been that the sudden and intensive burst of gamma radiation had shorted out all communications in the area.

Hardbottle was yanked to his feet and spun around to face an overwhelmingly angry Jim Hammond. Jim’s solid right cross knocked Hardbottle right on his ass. Hardbottle hit hard, coughed again, spat out blood and a couple of teeth.

Jim said in a very tightly controlled voice; “You ever dare to disrespect me again in any way and I’ll cook you slowly from the inside out. Do you understand me?”

Hardbottle grinned with red lips and teeth. “Not such a boy scout any more, are you, firecracker?”

Jim reached down and yanked Hardbottle to his feet. “I have had more than my fill of you, Hardbottle! I’m going to personally see to it that you no longer disgrace the uniform of the United States Army! I’m going right to the-“ Jim stopped. The ground under their feet was vibrating. Both men turned to look at the blood freezing sight of The Hulk charging right at them.

And he was grinning.

The two men could only watch as The Hulk raced at them with the speed of a runaway train. In seconds the man-monster would be on them and the look in his eyes spoke libraries of what The Hulk intended to do to them once he got his hands on them.

The Hulk’s right knee suddenly disintegrated in a spray of green blood and bone. The Hulk bellowed as he toppled over and hit the ground, tumbling over and over in a carpet of broken rubble, his lower right leg hanging on by several tendons, the knee totally blown away.

Up on his rooftop, Ammo said to the sniper rifle, “Boo-yah, baby. Now let’s see how much that healing factor works when he ain’t got no fuckin’ head.” Ammo had been aiming for The Hulk’s head but at the speed he’d been traveling, Ammo couldn’t have been certain of a clean killshot. So he opted to take out a knee, put The Hulk down and then go for the head.

He reached for the final shell.

The Hulk pushed himself up and stood on one leg, eying the circling Army helicopters that were moving into attack positions. National Guard troops were backing up the Seattle Police Department and he knew that pretty soon they would come in with everything they had.

The Hulk pointed a finger at Hammond and Hardbottle. “This is over fer today. But it ain’t over forever. I got my mark on th’ both a’ ya. And one day we’re gonna finish it once an’ fer all. But fer right now-“ The Hulk lifted the mightiest fists on the planet over his head. “-I just got two words fer you an’ this whole stinkin’ planet-“

Jim knew what was coming next and he yelled at Hardbottle, “Run!”

He could have saved his breath. Hardbottle was already twenty feet in front of him, running flat out as if Hell were chasing him. Jim ran after him but he knew that no matter how fast they ran they’d never escape what was about to happen.

“HULK SMASH!”

And The Hulk brought those fists down onto the ground.

What happened next can only be described as an apocalypse of destruction.

The shockwave of that incredibly powerful double fisted blow rippled through the ground, shattering concrete. It was as if the concrete had turned to liquid as waves of earth-shattering force radiated outwards from The Hulk’s fists. Every window of every building in a five mile square area was instantly pulverized into powder. The foundations of building cracked, crumbled and slowly, like tired giants, tall skyscrapers swayed slowly back and forth and finally toppled over, some crashing into other buildings, bringing them down.

Screams of pain and despair filled the air. The pilots of the helicopters could only watch in horror as men and women were flung from collapsing buildings. Upon hitting the cracked, broken streets they burst apart like blood filled water balloons.

Gas lines ruptured and the sparks of metal scraping against metal ignited the gas. Explosions raged underground as critical junctures detonated like bombs, throwing debris into the air. Water mains shattered and in seconds there were geysers on one block and infernos on the other.

The building Ammo was on swayed drunkenly like a weary old man desperately trying to find his bed. Ammo lost his grip on his weapon and on the last bullet. He cursed, scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the rooftop door. If he could just get to the ground before the whole damn building came apart…

But it was the strangest thing. The faster and further he ran toward the door, the further and faster it seemed to move away from him.

Ammo realized with horror that the building was falling over. And taking him with it.

Ammo tumbled over and over, screaming his hatred of Hardbottle, the Hulk and the world as he was lost in a tsunami of stone, steel and glass.

Hardbottle and Jim were running neck and neck, trying to keep their footing as the ground bucked insanely under them. But they had lost this race, they knew. The Hulk had won the day and he’d won it with their blood.

There was a sudden rush of wind and the beating of immense wings. The Dreadknight on his Hellhorse swooped in low. The Dreadknight extended a helping arm to Jim who gratefully took it and swung on back of the Hellhorse behind The Dreadknight.

The Dreadknight expertly flipped a length of rope to Hardbottle. A rope that was firmly secured to the horn of the saddle. Hardbottle seized onto the rope with the desperation of a crackhead reaching for his pipe and held on.

The Dreadknight urged the Hellhorse upwards into a sky so filled with clinging, choking dust that the sun was dimmed, out of range of the devastation below.

Jim Hammond turned his head to look downward. It was a frightening sight. And one that reminded him of many dark days during World War II when he had looked down during flight and saw nothing but ruined, bombed out cities.

And indeed, fully five square miles of Seattle looked as if a bomb had been dropped on it. Where once proud and beautiful buildings stood, now were only piles of shattered rubble. Fires raged out of control. And the screaming was the worst. The screaming that Jim knew would go on for days.

The Dreadknight yelled down to the dangling Hardbottle; “Where to, Colonel?”

“The nearest Army base, man! Guess I might as well get this court-martial started and get it over with.”

“What about Ammo? And Bullet?” Jim asked.

“If Ammo survived this shit then he’s earned the right to walk away. I’m gonna come back and look for Bullet myself and I’m gonna find him. But for right now the best thing we can do is report that we FUBAR’ed this assignment beyond all conception of the term.”

Three Days Later

“…as you know, I’ve reported stories from some of the worst disaster areas in recent memory but I’ve seen nothing like the holocaust The Hulk brought to Seattle three days ago.

“The count currently stands at 120,000 dead and 160,000 injured. The physical damage to the city totals in the billions. Seattle has been declared by The President a disaster area and designated off-limits to all. Executive permission from The White House had to be issued to myself and my staff to bring you the story. But it’s a story that has to be told. The carnage that The Hulk has brought upon this city has to be seen by the whole world. Because The Hulk is a global problem now and always has been. What has happened to Seattle today could just as well happen in Barcelona tomorrow. Or Berlin next month. Or Paris next year. It’s only a matter of time. “I’ve asked officials at what they think the eventual total of dead and injured and the total cost of damage will be and they can only walk away from me, red-eyed from their own grief and their unwillingness to speculate on such a horror. It’s truly humbling to see seasoned veterans of many a disaster openly weeping, overcome with emotion at the thought of such a tragedy happening on American soil.

“The Hulk has gone on rampages before but never with the callous disregard for human life and property he demonstrated three days ago when he pounded the ground in savage rage and changed Seattle forever. The city will never forget the day which many are already calling Green Hell. Churches, synagogues, mosques…all houses of worship are filled to capacity as an entire city asks ‘Why?’

“It is a certainty that the superhero community will be taken to task for their long standing seeming inability to capture or contain The Hulk. Particularly The Avengers and The Fantastic Four, teams that have had long relations with the Hulk. The Avengers and The Fantastic Four have not as yet made any statements about the Seattle disaster. But surely they must soon come forward and explain how they could have let The Hulk roam free for so long. Will it now take the near annihilation of an American city for them to at long last take the appropriate action?

“As American citizens we must hold our leadership accountable and demand that justice be done. The soul of Seattle, the souls of her injured and her dead demand it.

“This is Anderson Cooper, CNN, live from Seattle. And now, back to our studio in New York.”

Four Days Later

He could only lie in the cool bed and look at nothing but the inside of his eyelids. Where he was, he had no clue. He could hear voices occasionally but they were too far away for him to make out clearly. He knew that wherever he was, it was huge. He could hear the echoes. He could smell antiseptic, hear the beeping of monitoring machines. But he wasn’t in a hospital.

Where the fuck AM I?

Mostly he slept. That was all he could do. He couldn’t feel anything but he had a sensation that wasn’t exactly like feeling. But it told him that there was something in his mouth, his nose.

I’m hurt bad.

And now voices were coming closer. He could hear them more clearly now.

Yeah, that’s right! C’mon right on over and stand next t’me while you talk!

“We get any ID on this one, Dr. Krueger?”

A bone-tired voice replied; “Are you kidding me? Look around. We’ve got nearly 4,000 injured men, women and children in this facility alone. We don’t have time to ID anybody. We’re too busy trying to keep them alive.”

Hey, I’LL tell you my goddamn name! Conroy Blankenship! They call me Ammo! Get Hardbottle! He’ll tell you!

He thought he was yelling with all his might but all the two doctors saw was a mangled human who was as quiet as a grave.

“This one is part of the bunch to be transferred out to The Blake Institute For Advanced Medicine. Maybe they can do something for them there. We can’t.”

“Which group is this?”

“Cases like this man. Paralyzed. In a coma. Unable to speak or move.”

If you just shut up an’ LISTEN, man, you’ll hear me! Look at me, motherfucker!

“We’ve got about a 1000 of them here. But our resources are stretched then and basically all we’re doing is keeping them alive. Now that they’re stabilized it’s best to move them to another facility.”

Dumbass! Call Hardbottle!

“It’s a miracle we found him, Dr. Englund.”

“It’s a miracle we found any of them, Dr. Kreuger.”

The voice were getting softer, small as they moved away, leaving Ammo on his lonely bed, perhaps the last bed he would ever lie in.

Please, please, PLEASE come back! Don’t leave me like this! You CAN’T leave me like this! I was gonna be famous as the man who killed The Hulk! You gotta call Hardbottle! He owes me! He knows people! People that can fix me up good as new!

Outwardly he lay as still and silent as a tombstone but locked inside the living coffin his body had become, Ammo was screaming the screams of the insane.

Five Days Later

The secure hospital room was in a government facility somewhere in Idaho of all places. Not even Hardbottle knew where it was. But it was known to Bullet’s handlers. Hardbottle had contacted them and they were the ones who had searched for Bullet and found him, barely alive. Anybody else hit that hard by The Hulk would have been killed instantly but then again, Bullet wasn’t just ‘anybody’

He lay in a bed specially constructed for his weight and size. In a full body cast from head to toe, only his face was exposed.

Hardbottle grinned down into the exposed face. “I think this is the only time I’ve ever seen you without the face fuzz, man.” Bullet’s head and face had been completely shaven to accommodate the cast.

Bullet managed a weak grin. “If’n I was awake when they did it I’d have ripped their arms off. Know how long it took me to grow that beard?” Bullet’s voice suddenly became serious. “Hey, Felton…my boy Lance…”

“He’s okay, man. I saw to him myself. He’s with some people I know down in Atlanta. They’ll look after him, trust me.”

Bullet sighed. “So how many years they gonna give us, man?”

Hardbottle reached for a hip pocket and took out a silver metal flask. He threw back a healthy shot of rum before answering. “Funny thing, that. When we got to Norris Army Base I thought the Dreadknight and I were dead. Hammond was mad enough to drink gasoline and piss fire-“

“-funny thing is he could prob’ly do that, too.”

“Nah. I didn’t tell you? Ever since Seattle he can’t do the flame on thing anymore. His pilot light’s gone out. Anyway, we were all three hustled into a waiting area until a special plane with blacked out windows brought us here. I didn’t sweat it. I used that code you gave me to use in case of emergencies and figured it was your people who sent the plane.”

Bullet nodded again. “Gimme a swig a’that, wouldja?”

“You think you should?”

“Man, if The Hulk didn’t kill me you think a shot a’rum will?”

Hardbottle brought the flask to his lips and administered the dose. “It occurs to me that that’s something else we got in common now. Both of us have went toe-to-toe with The Hulk and lived to tell about it.”

“I thought about that, Felton. You think maybe Banner was in there somewhere, fighting to keep the Hulk from just outright killin’ all of us?”

“Tell that to Annabel and Ammo.”

“Oh…yeah. They still haven’t found their bodies, huh?”

“I don’t think they’ll ever find either Annabel’s or Ammo’s. Ammo I could give less than a shit about. But Annabel…I’m gonna miss that girl.” Hardbottle took another shot of rum. “That girl and me…we had some good times together, Bullet. Good times.”

“I know, Felton. So where’s Dreadknight?”

Hardbottle started to answer but was interrupted by the door of the room opening. Jim Hammond strode in, wearing an ankle length black trench coat over his colorful gold and crimson costume. The Dreadknight followed him, divested of his body armor and cloak, wearing a plain black T-shirt, jeans and a similar trench coat. Somehow his being dressed in ordinary street clothes made the winged silver mask more sinister. But his voice was cordial enough as he greeted Hardbottle and Bullet; “Colonel. Agent Bullet.”

Hardbottle walked over to Dreadknight and offered his hand. “No matter how this turns out, Dr. Velsing, I owe you my life and despite whatever else I may have said or done to you, I don’t forget debts I owe.”

“That goes for me as well,” Bullet said.

“All I ask is that you honor the terms of our agreement, Colonel.”

“What if I not only honored Hardbottle’s agreement but doubled it?”

They all turned at the sound of the new voice. A tall, lanky black man dressed in a black and gray baseball shirt, black jeans and sneakers stood in the doorway. He was slightly overweight with the beginning of a pot belly but because of his height he carried it well. The light flashed on the square silver frames of his glasses.

“And who the hell are you to be making good on my promises, mister?”

The black man held two folders in his hand and as he entered the room he opened one and checked the papers inside. “I go by a lot of names. Depends on where I am. For our purposes you can call me Flynn. Decimus Flynn.”

Jim stepped forward. “I demand to be allowed to speak with your superior officer and access to your communications.”

Decimus Flynn scratched his chin. “Superior officer…ah, that’s not gonna work, Jim. I’m as high as it gets. For our purposes.”

“And who are you?”

Flynn turned a chair around and sat on it backwards. “I’m the guy who’s gonna set your collective feet on the path of a new destiny. Now let’s see what’s what, shall we?” Flynn opened a folder again and consulted it. “Mr. Hammond, what exactly are your intentions regarding the events of the past five days?”

“I intend to go directly to The President of The United States and see that Colonel Hardbottle spends the rest of his life in a federal prison. He is a drunk, an abusive sadist and probably sociopathic. He has no right to wear a uniform or bear the rank he holds.”

Flynn nodded as if he agreed with everything Jim said. But his words were quite different. “Never gonna happen.”

Jim blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“Mr. Hammond, I hate to be the one to disillusion you but you have to understand me on this: absolutely nothing is going to happen to Colonel Hardbottle.”

“It was his mishandling of this entire operation that led to The Hulk rampaging through Seattle! Thousands are dead and hurt! It’ll take years for the city to recover what it’s been through! Somebody has to pay!”

Flynn nodded with what looked like genuine sympathy. “I hear you. And yes, Colonel Hardbottle will pay for whatever sins he’s accumulated in his pursuit of The Hulk. But just not today. There’s need of a man with his particular talents.”

The sudden silence was interrupted by Bullet’s wet, blubbery raspberry blown in Jim’s direction.

Hardbottle took another hit from his flask and held it out to Jim with a cocky grin. “No hard feelings, firecracker?”

Jim took the flask from Hardbottle’s hand and held it up in front of Hardbottle’s eyes. Slowly the flask melted in Jim’s hand. “My power’s coming back, Hardbottle. Slowly, yes, but it’s coming back. It’s going to take a while until I’m back up to full strength so you’ve bought yourself a reprieve. But no more than that. We aren’t done yet by a damn sight.”

“Go blow smoke up somebody’s else’s ass, Hammond. We’re standing right here right now. There ain’t a damn thing between us but air and opportunity so if you’re feelin’ froggy, jump.”

Jim smiled thinly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Right here in the middle of your friends, both old and new. Friends who undoubtedly would back you up.” Jim turned to Flynn. “Am I correct?”

Flynn nodded in confirmation.

“So you see, Hardbottle, you’re really not the bigger man you’d like to think you are. It doesn’t take much of a man to throw down a challenge when the fight’s in his favor. No, I’m satisfied for today. And I’ll be even more satisfied when I personally throw you into Leavenworth.” Jim turned his back on Hardbottle and faced Flynn. “Can I impose upon you for transportation to Las Vegas?”

“If you’ll be so good as to wait in the lounge down the hall, I will personally see to it, sir.”

Jim nodded his thanks and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hardbottle removed another silver flask from his other hip pocket and took a shot before saying to Flynn, “So what’s your deal, cool breeze?”

Flynn smiled slightly. “First off, you don’t have to take the deal, any of you. Just say no and I’m outta here. But if I do all immunity walks with me. Bullet will most likely be covered by his people. They’ve got time, training and money invested in him. But they’ve got no reason to give a damn about what happens to you or The Dreadknight. I got your attention?”

“Keep talking.”

“The Dreadknight will be deported to Latveria where Doctor Doom is waiting.” Flynn’s shoulders shook in a stage shiver. “Sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if that happened. As for you, Colonel Hardbottle…let me see…Jim Hammond is a national hero with a distinguished record of service going back to World War II. The Dreadknight will be in Latveria. Bullet doesn’t even exist. Annabel St. Cyr and Ammo are dead. So guess who’s left to take the blame for Seattle?”

“I get your point. You got something better?”

“Yeah. There’s some folks who like being in control and need a group of gunslingers to do their dirty work. I suggested you.”

“You don’t work for these folks?”

“I work for myself. For our purposes I’m simply acting as an expeditor in this matter. Here.” Flynn tossed Hardbottle the other folder. It was black and stamped on the front were four words in red: THE FIVE MAN ARMY.

“What the hell is this? Sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“Actually, I stole it from a spaghetti western. I like the sound of it and it pretty much describes what your team will be: an army of five men. Provided Bullet and The Dreadknight are in.”

The Dreadknight said quietly, “Will I be given funds to upgrade my weaponry and allowed to pursue my research?”

“No problem.”

The Dreadknight looked at Hardbottle and held out his hand. “If you’ll have me, Colonel, I’m with you.”

Bullet called out from his bed, “If Felton’s in, I’m in.”

Flynn stood up. “Well, Colonel?”

“You may have noticed we’re two short.”

Flynn smiled. “Oh, I don’t think we’re going to have too much of a problem finding recruits for The Five Man Army, Colonel. Not much of a problem at all.”

Six Days Later

Hattie left her apartment building on Cumberland St, checking the mail before going out the door. Seems like she had quite a bit today. It was nice to get mail like a regular person. A few months ago if you had told her that she would be getting mail and living life like a regular citizen she’d have laughed herself into a hernia.

And she owed it all to the friend she knew only as Bob. He’d given her money to look after his apartment and most of all he’d shown her trust. Something she’d never had from even her own parents. Bob’s unconditional friendship had inspired Hattie to do something positive with her own life. To get clean and go to night school. She’d be starting a new job in a few days. She wanted to be a new person for Bob when he came back. A new person he’d be proud to call friend. And maybe more than friend.

Hattie went to the park and sat on the bench where she and Bob had spent many afternoons. That was back in the day when she would guzzle down beer after beer while Bob wrote funny looking symbols and equations in his notebooks. A group of girls were jumping double dutch not far away. Hattie smiled at them and they smiled back. They were all regulars here.

She missed Bob and hoped he would return soon. And knew he would return. She had no doubt of that. She shuffled through her mail and found a envelope with no return address. She opened it and was startled to discover that it was a letter from Bob. Hattie’s heart pounded so loudly that it throbbed in her ears. All this time she’d been praying for a phone call or a letter from him and here it was. Who said prayer didn’t work? Eagerly she bent to read the letter:

Hattie,

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I needed to write you this letter for a number of reasons. The first is that you need to get out of my apartment right after you finish reading this letter. There are people after me. Unimaginably powerful people and they will exhaust every means at their disposal to find ANY ONE who has had contact with me. And that includes you.

Look in the tank of the toilet and you should see a plastic bag. There’s money in there, sealed and waterproofed. Fifty thousand dollars. It’s yours. Take it and go to another city. Do something with your life. Go to school. Find a good man. Raise good children. And be good to yourself.

You will never see me again and I regret that. It was good to have a friend and many days you made me laugh and forget my troubles. But I have done something so horrible that there is no way I could taint you with my presence. If these people do find you, Hattie, they will tell you who I really am and so much will be clear to you. But I won’t tell you. Is that selfish of me? Maybe so. But I’d like for you to remember me from those days on the park bench. And if you are ever contacted by the people who are after me, you’ll know why.

Bob

“Miss DeCamp? Hattie DeCamp?”

Hattie looked up in surprise. So engrossed was she in the letter that she hadn’t even heard the two men walk up on her. One was black, the other white. But both had on identical black suits, sunglasses and the look of men who it was wise to pay attention to.

“Yes?”

“You need to come with us, miss.”

“Why?”

“Just come with us, Miss. We’ll explain when we get to headquarters.”

“What headquarters? What have I done? Who are you?” And suddenly it was as if all Hattie could hear was the sound of the double dutchers as they went through their moves that were as intricate and as well timed as those of Olympic gymnasts. Three girls were in perfect synchronization as they performed their maneuvers inside the barely visible arcs of the double ropes, their legs pumping up and down in an almost hypnotically rhythmic cadence as they chanted a rhyme to keep them in step:

“Doc Bruce Banner
Belted by gamma rays,
Turns into The Hulk!
Ain’t he unglamorous!”

At this point, the middle girl ducked headfirst between the legs of the girl in front of her, who grabbed her crossed wrists and swung her through, up and back over her shoulders and the girl ended up returned to her middle position and all three girls jumped up and executed a 180 degree turn and their legs picked up the step without a miss as they continued the cadence:

“Wreckin’ da town wit th’ power of a bull,
ain’t no monster clown who is as lovable
as everlovin’ HULK! HULK! HULK!”

NEXT: Wouldja believe…THE DEFENDERS?