Manhattan:
03 West 15th Street
Chelsea
Now…
There were few actual ‘alleys’ left in Manhattan anymore, at least in the city proper. Not alleyways that you could drive a car through from street to street at any rate as in cities like Los Angeles and Chicago. A few left in Chinatown, and in Harlem and above, but with so much construction in the city, real estate was always at a premium and most of the old alleys became boxed; blocked up against the backside of a new building and whittled down to a narrow path that was used to store garbage dumpsters and trash cans for the most part. These of course were prime real estate as well, for the rats and the roaches and other vermin that called the streets home. Here too drifted the homeless in droves. There was food, shelter from the elements and privacy to get good and drunk away from prying eyes, and of course, the police.
The alleyway behind Mesa Grill was a much sought after living accommodation by the homeless that drifted through Chelsea. Bobby Flay’s restaurant was Five Star and a current ‘hip’ gathering point for the night crowd of the city on the weekends and the Yuppie contingent after the 9 to 5 daily grind. In the alley behind the restaurant there were three huge dumpsters that were almost always brimming with fine food fare. There was an alcove with an overhang to keep the rain off, and the wind seldom whipped, and the snow rarely piled up. There was much contestation for that particular alley, yet oddly, save for the rats and roaches, only one man called it home…
Alan Blake sprawled in his preferred spot set back in the shadows of the alcove. The rain was drumming down a maddening cacophony on the overhang above, and beyond it sometimes seemed that a wall of water was falling. Blake was dry however, and relatively comfortable, warm in his raggedy down jacket, hoody and thick denims that had seen better days. All of that was of course for show.
Blake eased back on the piss-stained cushion that he had propped against the back wall of the alcove as he watched the street and the mouth of the alley. Nasty nights like this one were always slow. Little traffic on the street beyond, and only a rare resident of the apartment building, Yuppies mostly, that, for whatever reason preferred to use the rear entrances. He had been on site so long that he knew most of them, and even garnished a little bonus by the end of the week. Most of the activity in the alley came from the migrant workers that slaved away generally unseen in the kitchens of Mesa Grill. Cheap, Latino labor, probably illegal, they would come out regularly to dump trash or have a smoke. Sometimes they brought him food.
All of these Blake made note of. Sometimes he took pictures if there was someone that he did not recognize, but for the most part, it was his job to simply watch, and warn. Alan Blake, you see, was an Agent of SHIELD, and it was his job to watch the alley, and the entrance to the NY/Chelsea base.
And he had been doing his job. And weeks later when he would be brought before SHIELD’s Internal Affairs Division, he would swear to that fact. Had he known what was going to happen, of course he would have stopped him. But who would have known? Who would have suspected? But that night, when all the shit started he HAD been doing his job…
Blake looked up as the huge man in the trench coat and big floppy hat came shambling into the alley. The man was drenched from the rain and seemed almost cloaked in shadows as he made his way towards the back, past the alcove and the rat infested dumpsters. Blake watched, making a show of taking a long swig of colored water from the pint bottle of Night Train, which he always kept handy. His eyebrows rose as the man stalked past the entrance to the building, moving towards the bland wall beyond. Blake scrambled to his feet and got into character.
“Hey!” he shouted, staggering in a well-practiced gait as he came out of the alcove. “Hey! Spare some change?” he said as he made his way towards the man, who turned, his face hidden in the shadows of his wide-brimmed hat.
“Sure, pal,” the man said with a deep, gravelly voice. Blake paused as the big man dipped a hand the size of a canned ham into the pocket of his trench coat. Blake’s own hand dipped inside the folds of his down jacket, trembling fingers encircling the butt of his SHIELD issued Needler. Blake sighed as the man produced a soggy sawbuck.
Tentatively, and still in character, Blake approached the man, shambling forward as he reached for the $20. He still could not see the man’s face. He had told Maintenance days ago that the light in the alley was for squat when the floods went down, but as usual they were slow to respond. He snatched at the Jackson, but even as he took the bill, a huge fist wrapped about his wrist. Blake tugged, but there was no give. He started to pull the Needler…
“At ease, son,” the man said, easily holding his arm as Blake struggled. He drew the Needler and raised it, but the man’s other meaty fist simply clamped down on it and crushed it even as Blake fired.
Blake screamed and thought that his hand had been blown away, but miraculously, and aside from a raging burn, he still had all his digits. Blake looked up and saw that the concussion had blown off the man’s hat, and his eyes went wide to see who stood before him.
“Y-you…” he said, his voice actually shaking. “You’re the Thing!”
Alan Blake heard the big, rocky icon chuckle as he released his hand. He could not believe it. He had lived in the Tri-State all his life and never, ever seen an actual Marvel up close. He had seen Spider-Man once; a violet blur whipping past about thirty stories overhead. And he saw the Avengers’ Quinjet a time or two, or maybe it was the Fantasti-Car…
But Jesus!
This was the Thing!
“I- I’m sorry Mister Grimm,” he said, stuttering, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. “I didn’t know.”
“No worries, kid,” the Thing said as he crumpled the remains of the Needler into a tight ball and handed it to Blake. “Ya better get that looked at,” he said, nodding at the burn. “I’m here ta’ see Fury. He in?”
“I dunno,” Blake said truthfully. “I’ll call in though. Let ‘em know you’re here.”
“You do that.”
Even as Blake pulled his radio from the folds of his raggedy jacket, Benjamin J. Grimm turned, scooped up his hat and stepped through the Hologram wall that was the disguised entrance to SHIELD: Chelsea…
-
- THE THING
-
- MISTY KNIGHT
-
- COLLEEN WING
-
- JIMMY WOO
-
- MIDNIGHT
-
- ERIC ARCANE
-
- DOCTOR STRANGE
-
- WONG
STRANGE TALES
By Curtis Fernlund
The next step was the tricky one. Grimm had been through enough security systems to know that SHIELD’s would be state of the art and then some. ‘No turning back now though,’ he thought as he stepped through the holographic image of the wall and into the sensor array beyond.
Swiftly he willed the change to begin within even as he doffed the overcoat and hat to reveal the Level Five SHIELD uniform stretched tightly over his rocky form. Like he figured the sentry in the alley outside was too taken with meeting the Ever-lovin’, Blue-eyed Thing to look more closely at what he was wearing. And of course it was well known that Fury and the Thing were old friends, so nothing wrong with Ben Grimm paying his pal a visit. Sometimes it paid to be the ‘idol a’ millions’.
Grimm knew that there would be a defensible room just beyond the hologram where he would run a battery of scans to confirm his identity. He also knew that there would be a dead zone right at the edge of the bogus wall; a blind spot that would cause static with most of the scanning devices. That was where he paused.
Again he felt the pain, the change from stone back to flesh was still getting harder to endure and taking longer. He did not understand why, and figured that sooner or later he would lose the ability altogether again. He would have to make a decision at some point, over just how he wanted to spend his remaining years; as man or monster…
Grimm winced as a wicked convulsion rippled through his muscles. Cramps tightened in his legs and he almost collapsed from a spasm that shot through his back. He had to grit his teeth against the pain and focus to complete the change. Finally though he gasped watching as his hands dwindled before his tear-filled eyes down to a normal man’s size.
He wanted to rest, but knew that he had no time. Whoever was watching the monitors would have noted the perimeter breech already and would be waiting. If he took too long someone would be sent to investigate. Taking a deep breath then, Grimm adjusted his ID badge and walked casually into the room.
As expected the room beyond was barren and white save for the sensor equipment and the monitor on the far wall next to the only other door. He stood just inside the room for a few moments, waiting for the sensors to kick in. When nothing happened, he took a few more steps and stopped in the middle of the room, looking about curiously. Unless SHIELD had upgraded to something beyond what Reed Richards had developed, with scanners that somehow did not hum or light up or make the fabled ‘ping’ noise, then something was definitely wrong. It was right about then that the monitor on the far wall sparked to life.
“What the – “
Ben Grimm saw the flat image of a woman probably in her thirties with her dark hair tied back into a severe bun and a Blue Tooth clip in her ear. She was looking at him, but he could hear her fingers tapping madly on a keyboard out of the camera’s line of sight. A red light went on above the door.
“There’s no one there,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing on the monitor screen. “We had a breech, and see, Blake’s talking to someone on the rewind. What the hell?”
“Could be the system’s downloading,” he heard another voice say, this one male. “It happens. Open up. I’ll take a look.”
Grimm had no idea what had happened; maybe the change had fucked up the scanners, or maybe he had just gotten lucky and the voice was right. He did not care. Whatever, he went with the flow. He stayed in the center of the room and struck a submissive pose; legs spread and hands away from his body after he dumped his coat and hat to the floor with a sodden thump.
The door hissed open and Grimm saw a Guardsman standing in the doorway, the verdant armor reflecting the bright light of the sensor room. Behind him stood two agents dressed for war in Field uniforms and armored accouterments. Both held really big guns.
“Freeze!” the Guardsman shouted, his voice booming over the internal speakers of his armor as he raised his hands, arms outstretched. Grimm could hear the whine of Repulsor Rays powering up, and not being stupid, he froze.
“Who are you!” the Guardsman shouted as the two agents moved into the room and took up flanking position. Ben waited until they were settled before he spoke, hoping that he remembered the protocol correctly.
“Jackson, Carl: Epsilon agent 28578d4; Omaha.”
This seemed to confuse the Guardsman. Grimm saw him hesitate, glancing at his two soldiers. If he were an actual threat, a physical threat, he probably could have killed them all right then and gotten into the base. The door was still wide open behind them.
“I’m here for data retrieval,” Grimm went on after a moment’s silence. “We had a virus in Omaha. Purged the system, but we’re way behind in updates and security. “I’m here to see an Agent Woo to get the protocols we need to get up and running again.” Grimm rattled off the spiel that Woo had rehearsed with him the past couple nights, hoping that the Guardsman and the two agents were gung-ho muscle rather than Techno geeks.
“Just stay there,” the Guardsman responded, and Ben knew that he was receiving a babble of voices over his radio, all telling him what to do, every suggestion different. He did as he was told, smiling at the two agents that, to there credit, kept him in their sights.
“We’re contacting Agent Woo,” the guardsman said after a couple minutes. “You didn’t appear on the scanners in here, though you were picked up outside. We’re verifying your ID and story now.”
“No problem,” Grimm said, trying to sound congenial. He knew that Woo would confirm his tall tale and that his ID would check out. Maybe the storm was messing with the scanners, or maybe there really WAS a virus. Ben Grimm did not care as he stood, unmoving.
“I’m gettin’ paid.”
Manhattan:
177A Bleeker Street
Greenwich Village
“You sure he’s home?”
“Oh, yeah,” Eric Arcane said as he stared up at the old Victorian mansion. His eyes were radiating with a queer glow as he scanned the building, seeing things that few others in the world might, and should be happy that they couldn’t.
“He’s home. There’s enough eldritch energy seeping out of his skylight to light up Pittsburgh for a month. Luckily he’s no idiot. His seals are stopping the overflow from getting out, just like they’re stopping the demons from getting in.”
“Demons?” Colleen Wing asked, her dark eyes widening as she stared at the mansion. To her the place looked like any other building along the admittedly eccentric street. Bleeker Street was the heart of Greenwich Village, running dead end into Bowery and CBGB’s just a couple blocks east and more or less straight into the Gay community on the West Side. It was at times flamboyant and in places colorful to say the least, but here the block seemed a bit forgotten and run-down so close to the Bowery. She wondered if Strange had something to do with that, keeping the area looking unimpressive to hide in plain sight.
“Little buggers, wraiths and ghasts mostly. They’re like poltergeists and gremlins though they’re not spirits that couldn’t crossover. Just about the bottom rung on Hell’s ladder. Mischief-makers that cause pranks if they’re strong enough, or influence dreams. They’re all over the place. When you get a creepy feeling you can’t explain, it’s usually one of them.”
“Ugh.” Colleen shuddered and looked about her. The downpour made the block seem even more gray and depressing and visibility was for shit. She could just barely make out the glow of lights coming from CBGB’s, the old Punk club apparently having a concert despite the storm. She turned back to Arcane and saw the big black man rubbing his eyes. His long dreads were tied back with a dark scrunchie against the rain but he was still drenched, his long overcoat sopping wet and dripping, as he had had to leave the shelter of the overhang to get a better view of the building.
“Can you get past the shields?” she asked, watching as her new partner blinked, his eyes no longer glowing. She noticed a few new strands of gray in his otherwise black hair. Arcane called himself a ‘Hedge Mage’, whatever that was. Having seen him in action in the past, however, she knew that every time he cast a spell it took a toll on him, leeching the energy from his very life force. Outwardly he appeared to age, and she remembered the end of their previous encounter that he had looked withered and ancient.
Arcane chuckled. “Not a chance in Hell,” he said. “The title Sorcerer Supreme isn’t just for show, darlin’. Those shields are up to keep out the likes of Dormammu and Nightmare, and I’m just not in that class. No, we go in the old fashioned way.”
With that Eric Arcane started across the street, walking quickly in the downpour. Colleen Wing had to jog to keep up with the big man’s stride as she struggled with the umbrella in the rain and wind. She caught up as he knocked on the heavy oak door. Colleen shivered, but did not think it was from the cold.
“You sure this is wise?” she asked, folding the umbrella and shaking raindrops from her own long coat.
“Probably not,” he answered as he took a step back on the stoop, clasping his hands behind him. “Necessary though, at least according to Grimm.”
“Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t turn ugly. I doubt we could beat the Master of the Mystic Arts in a toe to toe fight.”
“Not in your dreams,” Arcane laughed, “believe me. If all goes well, the hardest part will be getting by his second line of defense.”
As if on cue, the heavy door swung soundlessly open to reveal an average and unimpressive looking Asian man. Colleen recognized traits of his Tibetan heritage in his skin tone and eyes, and was surprised that he was only a bit taller than she was, given his reputation. Danny spoke of Wong with much respect as to his skills in the Martial Arts. Colleen saw Arcane bow slightly, and followed suit, momentarily forgetting her manners. She noted that Strange’s retainer did not return the greeting, rather looking at Arcane with some contempt.
“Eric Arcane,” Wong said, barely holding back a slight sneer. “The Master is occupied, and cannot be disturbed. Please leave.”
Colleen felt the temperature drop a good fifty degrees at the manservant’s words and understood Arcane’s remark. She imagined that if Wong did not want you to get in, you would not.
“Wong, my friend,” Arcane said, and Colleen could hear the sarcasm lacing the forced congeniality dripping in his voice. “My associate and I have grave information to share with your Master. I do wish you would reconsider. It’s imperative that we see him.”
The Hedge Mage moved to step past Wong even as the manservant started to close the door. She did not even see the monk move, but suddenly his hand was on Arcane’s arm, his fingers placed in position to easily slip to pressure points and apply pain if necessary. And that was her cue.
She had met Doctor Strange before, but not Wong, and that was the basis of their plan to get inside. Arcane had figured Wong would consider him the threat, and despite his years in America and its culture would probably ignore the Daughter of the Dragon simply because she was a woman. She had to press that advantage before the manservant could act against her, or trigger the mystical defenses designed to repel invaders once the door was opened.
Moving swiftly herself, she flipped aside the concealing tails of her long black coat and drew her boken from her obi. Arcane knew that her katana would set off other alarms in the mansion, but a wooden practice sword would register as a cane and hopefully be ignored. She whipped the sword about swiftly and jabbed towards Wong’s throat, more specifically his carotid artery.
Wong was quick however, and he smoothly brought his free arm up to deflect the blow even as his other hand slid to Arcane’s wrist and squeezed. Colleen heard her partner gasp in pain as he staggered under the pressure of Wong’s grip. Wong seemed almost casual as he held the bigger man in check and concentrated on her, his arm sliding about, trying to lock her sword. It was an expected response to her attack, and she was ready.
All too often the key to victory in a Martial Arts fight was an unexpected assault. She just hoped that Arcane was ready as she released her grip on the sword and spun, slamming the back of her leg into the mage’s back and driving him forward. She caught a brief glimpse of surprise on Wong’s face as the bigger man simply bulled his way forward, propelled more by her kick and stumbling into the smaller man. No magic, no weapon’s and no intent to do harm, the building perceived Arcane to be no threat and he crossed the threshold. Colleen used her own momentum from the kick to flip through as well, literally on the mage’s heels as all three sprawled on the rich, Oriental carpeting of the entryway.
Wong had lost his grip on Arcane’s wrist, but Colleen could see him struggling to get position to get the bigger man off of him. The mage was keeping the monk pinned; one arm and one leg at any rate, but she knew that would not last long. She scrambled right over Arcane, adding her own weight to the big, black man’s and moved to pin Wong’s arm. Colleen hissed in pain as the monk rammed two fingers up under her arm. Luckily he was at an awkward angle and could not get any real strength behind the blow, knowing that the strike was designed to cripple the muscles and make the arm go dead. As it was she would have a nasty bruise and ache for a week.
The attack had left Wong vulnerable however, and Colleen locked her arm about his and simply fell to the floor with all of her weight. It took her another moment to then wrap her own legs in a scissors about the manservant’s own flailing leg, gasping again as he got in one final blow with a knee to her crotch. Her free hand then went to the pinned man’s throat and squeezed, her fingers digging into the pressure points and cutting the flow of blood and oxygen.
She bit her lip as she held on and Wong thrashed his head about. She did not want to kill him, or even hurt him, and she had to respect his efforts and desire to protect Strange. She could see in his eyes that his struggles did not come from fear, but devotion. Slowly though his struggled became weaker, his arms and legs unresisting until finally even his head thumped to the floor. His eyes closed and his head lolled to the side, but she held on a few more moments against his ‘playing dead’. It was what she would do.
Colleen counted a slow ten and at last sighed and released her hold, nodding to Arcane. “Jesus,” he said as both of them slowly got to their feet, the big man stretching and popping his back.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” he joked. “I’m gonna feel that kick in the morning.” He looked at Wong, sprawled on the floor and frowned. “Well, it wasn’t pretty, but it worked.”
“I’m not proud of what we did,” Colleen answered. “He deserved better. He’s a Master in his own right, and better than me.”
“We did what had to be done. That’s why Grimm picked us, because we’re willing to step over lines that others won’t. Finish him, and I’ll go get what we came for.”
“You sure you can find it?” Colleen asked as she pulled a long coil of white nylon cord out of her coat pocket and crouched down beside Wong, rolling him onto his stomach.
“I know where it should be,” Arcane answered as he moved deeper into the house. “Getting to it will be the tricky part. Just be ready to run like hell, ‘cause once I grab it, Strange will definitely know we’re here.”
Colleen watched until her partner disappeared around a corner, then set to work on binding Wong. Knowing now what the monk was capable of, she took no chances. She crossed his wrists placing his hands back to back and bound them together, crossing and knotting the cord several times. She then took the trailing ends and bound his thumbs together for extra measure. She then ran the rope down his legs and bound them together just above his knees, again crossing the cord and applying several knots. Next she produced another coil of rope and proceeded to tie his ankles together in a similar fashion. She then folded his legs and knotted off the last length of the cord, binding his ankles to his wrists, which placed the man in a nice, tight hog-tie. As a final measure she produced two dark scarves and stuffed one into his mouth to hold his tongue down, then used the other to hold that in and gag him.
Colleen retrieved her boken and stood, looking down at the bound and gagged man at her feet with a frown. No, she was definitely not proud of tonight’s work. But like Arcane had said, it had to be done.
She just hoped to hell that Grimm was right…
Manhattan:
S.H.I.E.L.D. Base Gamma
Sub-level 6
Chelsea
“You are certain of this,” Agent James Woo said as he examined the small device held almost gingerly between his fingers. It was just a simple Flash Drive, but it was the alleged contents that gave Woo pause. And of course the source from which it came. Viper was definitely not a person to be trusted.
“Yeah,” Grimm responded. “Oddly I am. I dunno what scheme Viper’s cookin’ up, but I think she wanted what I had to trade as much as I did. I don’t doubt fer a minute that there’s somethin’ on there ta help her out, but I trust her enough ta figure it’ll do what we want too.”
Woo grunted in response as he slid his dark Raybans back into place, immediately feeling the strain from the lights ease in his eyes. His aversion to light sometimes made even the simplest things a hard task, but there were ways to compensate. He had always been a night person anyway. There were rumors about his sudden and strange affliction of course, but being one of Fury’s friends and part of his inner circle did have its privileges.
Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Woo slid his chair forward and moved to insert the drive into an open USB port. He knew that the internal cameras would be recording whatever happened in the secondary node of the computer core, but hopefully no eyes would actually be watching. Again, rank had its privileges. He was thankful however that he could no longer sweat, as an unaccustomed feeling of unease was about him. He almost jumped when he felt Grimm’s hand on his shoulder.
“You do realize this’ll probably get’cha in hot water with Fury,” Grimm said. “If it works, it’ll take awhile before anyone realizes what happened, but when they do all the fingers will be pointin’ right at you, Jimmy.” Woo shrugged.
“I have been an outcast before,” Woo replied remembering his days with the CIA as well as early in his SHIELD career. “I will survive. Shall we proceed?”
“Go for it.”
Woo slid the drive into the slot, watching the monitor screen as the computer scanned the device. It took seconds, which in itself was strange. Woo knew quite well the power invested within the core computer. The speed, storage capacity and internal workings were phenomenal and second to none save perhaps those built into the computers of Reed Richards. Viper, or whomever she got to write the programs stored on the Flash Drive probably worked many protocols into the coding in order to bypass security measures. Finally though the window on screen changed and a message box popped up to note that the drive was virus free and accepted. Woo leaned forward and tapped the icon on screen representing the files on the drive.
Again the window changed and three icons appeared resembling partially opened cardboard boxes, each labeled with simply a letter; a, b, and c, all followed by .exe. Woo shifted back in his chair, blue smoke roiling about him as he considered.
“Problem?” Grimm asked leaning in to look at the screen.
“I expected the auto-drive to kick in and take control. It appears Viper is playing with us even now, making us choose and seal our fate manually. She made no mention of which program to implement?”
“Not a word,” Grimm answered. “But then I know squat about computers. Yer best guess, Jimmy.”
Woo thought for a moment, then leaned forward. “Perhaps you are correct, and I am being too suspicious. It could simply be the same program, altered for various security protocols. Once initialized, you wish the invasion of bank records, government agencies of varying import and of course the higher end records of the Marvel community among other things. Viper would of course have knowledge of Hydra’s security, and probably AIM as well. My ‘best guess’ then is to start with ‘a’.” Woo tapped the icon, then leaned back in his chair to watch, and wait…
Manhattan:
177A Bleeker Street
Greenwich Village
Eric Arcane stood and stared at the locked and sealed door before him. Like the front door, it was thick, solid oak and probably backed with a metal sheath against fire. It would be a logical precaution, if he was right in that Strange had some of his more… obscure trinkets stored beyond. Of course the door’s physicality was not the problem. It was the mystical wards keeping it sealed that were baffling.
The runes etched into the frame and the floor were obvious enough in their purpose. He had similar back in his loft placed on his own ‘Sanctum Sanctorum’, such as it was. It was the spells however that were confounding. Even using the Sight, he could see that they were all layered and connected. Disrupt one and the others would fall into place like a guillotine, not only sealing off the cellar in a mystical barrier that the Hulk probably could not pound down, but retaliating against the entity trying to open the door. He doubted that Strange would place any deadly spells, but Arcane was fairly certain that whatever backlash there was would not be pleasant, and would definitely be incapacitating.
Arcane reached into the pocket of his dark trench coat and withdrew a cigarette from his pack of Newports. He barely caught himself, the Word to spark a flame on the tip of his tongue. He smirked, pulling his Zippo from his pants pocket, puffing his butt to life and feeling the tension ease out of him. His crutch in hand, he slipped the lighter back into his pocket and reconsidered his approach.
Strange was smart. He had to be. Even before the magic, Arcane knew that he had to be well disciplined in many mundane areas in order to achieve his status as Sorcerer Supreme. He had to know his math, as a lot of magic was related to creating and deciphering complex problems. He had to be well versed in many languages; ancient, archaic, forgotten as well as current to understand the varying degrees of mysticism that flourished around the world. voodoo, prestidigitation, Blood Rites, Necromancy… The list was endless and as varied as the number of cultures that ever existed, dating all the way back to C’thon and the time of the Elder gods if not before. Too, he had to be well read, and maybe that was the key.
There had to be one word that would open the door for Strange. Eric Arcane could not imagine that he would spend the time it would take to bypass each and every one of the spells that Arcane could see binding the door. Doctor Strange was thorough to the point of anal, but there were doubtless things stored in the basement that he might need at a moment’s notice. Arcane smirked as he made his decision, and spoke the Cantrip that he placed his bet on, all or nothing.
Amicus…
Eric Arcane smiled as the door glowed briefly. With the Sight he saw the web of spells fall away one by one, then heard the ‘click’ of the physical lock and the door popped open. “Thank you, Mister Tolkien,” he said as he pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.
He immediately felt the oppressiveness of the cellar. He could see the outer wards on the walls, runes blazing as well as smaller, individual spells sparkling in the otherwise dim basement. He saw no further alarms barring his way however, so Arcane started down the stairs scanning the shelves and the many, many mystical artifacts that were stored there.
As he moved through the cellar he saw many things that he simply wanted to take. There were many more however that he simply had no clue as to their purpose. There was a bronze bell that he knew would shatter dimensional barriers. He saw a silver horn that would produce a sweet clarion call when blown that would shatter stone. He found a sword and long knife that would cleave Ogre flesh and blaze with fiery light when evil was near. There was a five-sided box that made his head ache to look at, a dog collar made of flexible crystal, a pearl the size of a golf ball that had no color that he could describe… The list was endless.
Arcane ignored temptation as he walked the shelves looking at the wares as a shopper might in Macy’s. He had to focus on the mission. They did not have much time before Strange finished whatever he was doing upstairs and became aware of their ‘Home Invasion’.
Finally he stopped. He stared at the necklace; ten irregular crystal looking stones attached to a simple silver chain. It looked like some gaudy piece of New Age jewelry, but he knew that it was in fact a powerful artifact from the days before Atlantis was swallowed by the raging seas.
Oddly, it was only warded with one simple spell, easily banished. That made Arcane all the more dubious. Granted the artifact’s sole purpose was mundane. It was not a weapon, but rather a defensive measure, but still, he had expected more. Was Strange so arrogant? Well, yes, but he was not stupid.
Aspicere…
And there it was. Arcane felt the slight weakness as he kicked his vision up a notch, but it allowed him to see the true ward. Visions of Indiana Jones danced in his head as he examined the weight sensitive spell that would set off a psychic scream if he lifted up the necklace. “Very cute,” he whispered as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small Ziploc bag filled with pennies. “Canadian pennies, bitch.” Strange would get nothing out of the exchange.
Liberare!
Arcane watched as the outer ward fell away, taking a final drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under the toe of his combat boot. He was tense and sweating as he eased the Ziploc bag forward, hoping that his scriptures had been correct in the weight. He tentatively touched the necklace, expecting lightning to come crashing down, but nothing happened so he eased his other hand forward.
In one fluid motion he let the bag of coins roll out of his hand and onto the shelf as he picked up the necklace. He held his breath, waiting…
Nothing happened.
Arcane turned and was about to start for the stairs but abruptly stopped short to see Doctor Stephen Strange standing on the last step of the stairs, smoking a cigarette with an amused smirk on his face. The Master of the Mystic Arts blew a cloud of blue smoke into the air, totally calm and radiating superiority.
“Doctor Arcane,” Strange said, taking the final step down to the basement floor. He was dressed in an expensive suit and adorned with gold, cuff links, tie pin, watch chain dangling from his vest. His smile was devastating. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Aw, fuck,” Arcane said, so busted…
Manhattan:
S.H.I.E.L.D. Base Gamma
Sub-level 6
Chelsea
James Woo’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in the final name into the Search Box :
Woo typed in a sequence of keystrokes that linked the files to the program running in the background, which Viper had provided. He was still dubious because of the source of the program, but he had to admit that he was intrigued as well. If Viper had provided, and Grimm was correct, once the program was initialized, Wing’s files, as well as the rest of the Thing’s team would be wiped from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Database. Not only that however, as the program would branch out as an ever-growing Worm, corrupting every Database connected to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. Starting first with the likes of the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, the X-Men, and all the ‘hero’ teams that shared information with S.H.I.E.L.D. From there it would seek and destroy the lesser nodes of singular or partnered heroes, even those illegally gaining the protected information. Hydra, A.I.M., the Hellfire Club, and all the more corrupt agencies and operatives the world over. The Worm would devour government files as well, from law enforcement agencies at every level, to the Department of Motor Vehicles, the IRS, and the like. It would strike worldwide, hospitals, banks, credit card companies, on line department stores; anywhere the specified names emerged…
Grimm’s team would become ghosts in the machine, non-entities that simply no longer existed to the computer dependent world. Woo was almost envious as he lit a cigarette and settled back in his chair. He looked to Grimm. “Ready?”
“Not too late to come on board, Jimmy,” Grimm said with a warm grin. “We could use ya, lemme tell ya. A computer whiz and a sneaky little bastard like you’d fit right in.”
Agent Woo smirked, dragging on his cigarette. He had been tempted. “Thank you, no. Besides, I believe I can better serve from the inside.” He looked back to the computer. “Shall I?” Grimm nodded. “Do it.”
Woo hit Enter again and watched with interest as the mysterious program initialized. He had no idea how long it might take to run its course, but he wanted so much for it to complete so that he could open it up and examine the coding. If it actually succeeded, and did all that Grimm claimed it would be a wonder to behold and a puzzle to hack and crack, one which he would happily endeavor to solve.
It was five minutes before the first alarm went off…
“What’s that?” Grimm asked, leaning in and peering at the screen.
“The Anti-Virus has detected the worm,” Woo explained as he glanced at the generic words of caution in the Pop-up window that had appeared. He hit a few keys and the box vanished. “Viper’s program seems out dated. Black Ice is spreading to contain the threat.”
Grimm had no idea what ‘Black Ice’ was but he figured it was some kind of Anti-Virus defense. He watched as woo started typing furiously, the monitor screen flickering like a disco ball. “What’re ya doin’?”
“Herding the Anti-Virus,” Woo said, though again Grimm was in the dark. “Trying to block the assumed paths that the defenses might take so that Viper’s Worm can bypass.”
“Okay…”
“Agent Woo!” a staticky voice sprang from the computer speaker. “We’re reading a major security breach coming from your node. Anti-Virus and Firewall are both shut down! What’s going on?”
“Necessary precautions,” Woo said, not missing a beat, his fingers a blur on the keypad. “Firewall and Anti-Virus should reboot momentarily.”
“I’m sending a team – “
“Not necessary. Don’t – “
“Protocol, Agent. Out of my hands.”
Grimm heard the line go dead and knew that the shit was about to hit the fan. “Time ta go, Jimmy,” he said as he pulled a strangely glowing device from a pouch on his belt. It was about the size and shape of a Zippo lighter, and the top even flipped open at Grimm’s touch to reveal a little red button within. Grimm pressed it.
Movement in the corner of the room caught Woo’s eye as a spot of darkness appeared and started to spread. The light in the room dimmed as the black obfuscation roiled, expanding with each passing second. Oddly, he felt a familiar chill, and then sensed a presence he had hoped to never encounter again…
“Midnight…”
Agent Woo stared at the figure garbed head to toe in deepest black, off-set only by the fedora he wore, which was slightly less so, and the huge voluminous cloak that roiled and churned about him, vomiting cold and dark clouds of shadow. It was M’Nai, adopted son of the celestial, his Lord and Sire.
“C’mon, Jimmy,” Grimm said, his voice deepening and becoming jagged and gravelly. Woo looked and saw that he was reverting to his Thing persona. “We just gotta hope Viper’s program does all she said it would an’ let it run. We’re busted though, an’ I ain’t leavin’ you behind ta take the fall.”
“No,” Woo said, fighting the urge to stand at Midnight’s side. “I shall remain and-“
He felt the call…
James Woo reluctantly stood and dashed for the darkness even as Grimm stepped within, lost to the shadows. He felt the cold and stepped into the roiling darkness, cursing with every step…
Next Issue: Grimm and company return to the new HQ only to find an unexpected visitor waiting, and he is apparently not pleased. Learn the fates of Colleen Wing and Doctor Arcane as Grimm’s Gang takes on… The Sorcerer Supreme… The Master of the Mystic Arts… Dawwwwk…tooooor…Strange!!!
Let’s get ready to rumble!
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