WALKABOUTS

Part II: Which One Will You Be Tonight?

By Clayton Tooley

Author’s Notes: This story arc takes place between issues #9 and #10 of Dino’s Captain America series, just after Josiah X took over the shield but before Steve Rogers’ death in #10. It also occurs just after Daredevil’s battle with Scourge in Amazing Fantasy #23, and the events of Bring on the Bad Guys #3. The remainder of “Walkabouts” will occur within that same time period.

Two Days Ago…

She’d smiled at him at the bar, thinking nothing more than he had a cute smile and hair less slicked back than his friends. From her vantage point at the table next to her very drunk sister, he’d seemed about the right size and shape, but she hadn’t really given it that much thought at the time. She was the Maid of Honor and it was her responsibility to keep the party rolling, and they had a lot of other stops to make before the night ended. But he’d seemed nice and, in the glowing red light of the neon signs falling across his hair, for a moment she could pretend.

When she saw him again the next morning, as two of the first people to arrive at breakfast in the lobby of the hotel, she realized what should have been obvious the night before. “Groomsman?” she asked as she dropped into the chair next to him.

Without a super-human constitution like hers he was feeling the effects of the alcohol he’d drank the night before and, through bloodshot eyes, he smiled. “I was almost Best Man.”

“How impressive of you,” Cathy Webster said, chewing on a piece of bacon. “I am Maid of Honor, so I guess I’m better than you…not that that appears to be a difficult thing.”

“The Best Man threw up on the stripper’s crotch last night…he’s no Superman. And I can’t tell you what the Groom did.”

“Ha! I guess my sister knows how to pick them, huh? What’s your name?”

“Cole, Cole Montoya. And I guess you must be the elusive Cathy, then.”

“I am, older sister of the bride.”

“Not that much older, surely,” Cole said. “You can’t be a day over 18.”

“Wow,” Cathy said, raising her eyebrows. “Either you’re flattering me or you really are up on your ‘age of consent’ laws.”

“No!” Cole said, laughing and then rubbing his temples. “It was meant as a compliment, that’s all.”

“Whatever, Pedo,” Cathy said, taking a sip of coffee. “At least you didn’t call me a ‘milf’.”

“Ha!” Cole said, finally trying some of his food. “I’m 23, so if you’re over 25 I’ll eat my hat.”

Cathy smiled, letting him off. “I’m 24, physically at least. Been a tough few years, so I feel older.”

“Caroline hasn’t given a lot of details about you. She said you had an important job over the river in New York, but not much other than that.”

Cathy smiled. “Something like that. I keep busy but I can’t really talk about it much.”

“That’s cool,” Cole said, smiling. “I like mysterious women.”

“Where is she?!”

Major Jason Bludd of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to call on all of his years as a military man to keep from stepping aside as the man-mountain known as the U.S.Agent came barreling down the hallway toward him, his black mask pulled back to reveal the anguished face of John ‘Jack’ Walker. Behind him, out of breath, came Peggy Carter, who had put out the call to Walker much earlier than Bludd would have liked, but what was done was done he supposed.

“Jack, take it easy,” Bludd said, taking a few small steps back and holding his hands up. “Dr. Foster is taking a look at her now. We need to give her time to finish and figure out how to approach this.”

That brought Jack up short and for the first time his eyes seemed to focus on Bludd. “How to approach what, Jason?” Jack asked softly.

Bludd pulled himself upright. “What happened to her, her mental state…and if she’s been turned.”

The hallway couldn’t have been quieter if everyone had suddenly died. Peggy cupped her hands over her mouth, devastated that her rash act of contacting Jack had led to this. For another second no one moved and then Jack said, “No.”

Bludd blinked. “No what?”

“She hasn’t been ‘turned’, goddamnit. She’s a civilian with no military training and no secrets to keep,” Walker said, taking another step forward. “The fucking ‘dogs know everything about me already, and she has no tactical value other than to hurt me.”

“Exactly,” Bludd said, standing firm. “Then why’d they let her go? Why not kill her?”

“You son of a –!” Jack said, pulling up short and flexing his hands. His nostrils flared and Bludd knew he’d never be able to stop him, but it wasn’t necessary as Jack relaxed a fraction and said through gritted teeth, “Get out of my way, Jason. Last chance.”

“I –” Bludd began and then realized he was talking to the back of USAgent as he pushed his way through the swinging doors that Bludd had previously been standing in front of. To his dying day he would swear he never saw or felt USAgent’s hands on his shoulders, but he could not deny that he’d been lifted and placed aside like a leaf as the man had passed. “– don’t think –” He stopped as the doors closed and Peggy Carter stopped beside him. “Whoa,” he finally added.

“You’re lucky,” Peggy said, smirking. “Cathy said she saw him kick a guy through a wall last night.”

“Huh,” was all Bludd could think to add.

Later, at the church, Cole was standing outside of the back rooms where the bride was getting ready. He should have been with his friends, cheering on a nervous groom, but he found himself milling around here hoping to see Cathy again. In addition to her blonde hair and perfect body, there had been something in her eyes that had mesmerized him last night…a loneliness or a desperation that had spoken to him. He needed to see her again.

As if on cue, a voice spoke from behind his ear. “Boo.”

Cole jumped but managed only a small scream as he spun around and saw the grinning face of Cathy Webster. His reaction quickly changed from terror to bliss as he saw the purple satin dress she wore clinging to her amazing body and leaving very little to the imagination, with her blonde hair draping over her shoulders in a captivating wave. He found his voice raspy as he said, “Oh…hello.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Cathy said. “Go away or I’ll have to hurt you.”

“Really?” Cole said, puffing his chest out. “I played football.”

Cathy smiled, thinking of all the thugs’ faces she’d rearranged. “How impressive. Leave.”

“Can we hang out at the reception?” Cole asked as he let her push him toward the door.

“We’ll see,” Cathy said, blushing a little.

“Get that IV line and blood transfusion going NOW!”

Dr. Jane Foster slammed her hands into the stretchy surgical gloves and quickly scanned the monitors arrayed about the gaunt, almost lifeless body on the bed before her and gritted her teeth. The poor girl was a mess, more closely resembling ground beef than a human body. She had a shattered knee that would never work right again, devastated ribs and certainly had so many deep tissue bruises to her torso area blood clots were almost a certainty. Her skin looked like a cheese grater had gone over it, and her other limbs and pelvis were a mess of stress fractures and outright breaks; her face looked like a shattered window on the x-ray and it’d be a miracle if she could keep the left eye.

And then there were the deep, horrible scabs on both wrists and forearms…

As she began working, the last thing she needed charged into the room. John Walker slid to a halt at the foot of the bed and froze. “Katie…” he said almost too softly to hear and his eyes tightened.

Foster didn’t spare him much of a glance but she’d seen that look before and spoke quickly to distract him. “Agent, we don’t have a lot of room here. Wait outside.”

“No,” he said, having the presence of mind to step back to the wall across from the bed and pulled himself as tight and stiff as possible. “I won’t get in the way. Tell me.”

Foster swallowed her anger and told him her initial impressions, not pulling any punches so as not to create any false expectations. When she’d finished detailing her initial review, she was just finishing her initial checkup and slung her stethoscope over her neck. “We can try to stabilize her and then get to work on setting the bones and working on the internal damage, but she’s going to need surgery on that knee and we need to do a dozen or more tests and scans to see what we’re dealing with internally.”

“Will she make it, Dr. Foster?” Jack asked.

She finally looked up at him and then lowered her gaze. “I…I don’t know, John,” she said honestly. “But if there’s a way, I’ll find it. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” he said with a thick voice.

“Ok, let’s get her into the intensive care area!” Foster snapped, pulling up the side-rail of the bed. “We’ve got Stark-tech in there that can get a better look at this. Move!” Foster ushered her nurses and orderlies through the sanitation field and into the clean inner reaches of the medical facilities, the pneumatic doors hissing closed behind them and cutting the USAgent off from his only living relative.

He didn’t know how long he stood there fighting back his tears before the door opened behind him and Julia said, breathlessly, “Jack?”

He turned, his control evaporating as he melted into her arms and his weight pulling them both down onto the floor as he let his anguish flow out of him and into her, as she stroked his back and whispered her support to him, her tears drying in his hair.

After the ceremony, the reception was off to a great start. Caroline Webster, who was now Caroline Baxter, was dancing with her father, Martin Webster, as her new husband, Charles, danced with his mother, Alexis. Off to the side, Cole slid up next to Cathy and whispered in her ear, “I was always in favor of eloping myself.”

Cathy shook her head, memories overtaking her. “I’d planned a four-day extravaganza.”

Cole blinked, surprised. “You were going to get married?”

Cathy’s demeanor changed, darkening but not in a mean way. “I was, yes. But he died.”

Cole felt like a piece of gum on the bottom of a shoe. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No,” Cathy said, grabbing his forearm strongly. “It’s ok. You didn’t know. Jack was a lot like you.”

“Really?” Cole asked, smiling. “Rugged and good-looking?”

“No…insecure and trying too hard,” Cathy said, smiling. “But honest and true and caring. Caroline and Charles spoke well of you.”

“Really?” Cole asked. “Then why wasn’t I best man?”

“Something about cock size, or so I heard,” Cathy said, holding her thumb and fore-finger a small bit apart. “Sorry to hear about that.”

“Remind me to kick my father in the ass,” Cole said, smiling. “Can’t hold genetics against a guy, right?”

“I dunno, we’ll see,” Cathy said, smiling. “How do you feel about sexual aids?” she asked bluntly.

BOOM!!

That was the sound the super-strong punching bag made as it snapped off of its steel chain and smashed into the far wall of the gymnasium with enough force to create an indentation that held it up for a few second, before the weight of the bag pulled it free to plop limply to the floor. John Walker stood, breathing hard, having spent the last twenty minutes systematically trying to work out on all of the machines in the gym, but the fury burning in his chest had only succeeded in destroying every piece of machinery in the place. He moved to the bench bolted to the wall and sat, slumped forward. He sat there for a long time before a voice broke through the invisible shield around him.

“Water?”

Jack looked up, having recognized the voice and surprise was clear in his face as he looked at Steve Rogers standing before him in workout clothes, his clear blue eyes smiling at him sadly. He took the water, mumbling his thanks and gesturing at the bench next to him. Steve sat, sipping his own bottle of water and they didn’t say anything for a moment as both surveyed the damaged room.

Finally, Steve said, “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

Jack winced. “That joke was old when you were young.” Steve smiled, shrugging. “But I’m sorry I destroyed your gym.”

“It’s ok,” Steve said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll get Fury to fix it. Did it help?”

“Somewhat.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Surprisingly, he did. He told Steve about Katie showing up and her condition and even the insinuations Bludd had made about her. He finished by saying, “Foster managed to stabilize her and she’s doing better, but there’s swelling and infection that prevents them from performing the surgeries on her knee or anything. It’ll be a few days before they can put her through that additional stress. She’s resting now.”

“That’s good,” Steve said, nodding. “I’m happy she’s back, but you have to admit Bludd also has a point. Her showing up like this, here, can’t be a coincidence. This isn’t over for you.”

Jack sighed. “I know. But…”

“But she’s your sister and she’s alive, I get it,” Steve said. “And that is the most important part, regardless of what comes out of it. It’s not like we don’t always have people plotting against us. At least in this case you know its coming and can prepare. We’ll stop them again.”

Jack nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Steve. Maybe you’re not such a pain in the ass after all.”

“That’s the Jack I’m used to,” Steve said, smiling. “Now, c’mon, you destroyed my gym so now you have to spar with me. Been a while since we went a few rounds.”

“It’s your funeral, Gramps,” Jack said, bouncing to his feet, smiling despite himself.

A few hours later, Cole woke up with something covering his eyes and feeling entirely worn out. He ran his hands over his face and pulled a piece of cloth free, wincing as the light shining in from the hotel bathroom assaulted his eyes. After a moment or so he was able to open his tearing eyes and observed that he was in his hotel room, in the bed and from experience he knew he’d had possibly the best sex of his life, as his body hurt in all the right places, in some parts painfully so.

He looked at the cloth he’d pulled from his face, which was a red, white and blue thing that had eyeholes cut into it, like some short of super-hero mask. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like it, but it seemed like he’d seen it somewhere recently. He looked toward the bathroom and on the floor in front of the door was a mass of blonde hair that he couldn’t recognize at first, but then he realized it was the hair that he’d seen the night before on Cathy Webster.

It was a wig.

From the bathroom walked Cathy Webster, only her hair wasn’t blonde but striped in a red, white and blue look that spoke to the American flag, which only dropped down to her shoulders instead of her mid-back as the wig had appeared. She was fully dressed in a skin-tight outfit that consisted of blue pants that had white stars up the legs, a red top that hugged her chest and abs with thin but strong straps over her shoulders holding up her impressive chest, a sash tied around her waist that dangled down her right hip, and golden forearm guards stretching from her wrists to her elbows overtop of blue gloves that had no fingertips. She wore blue boots with three-inch heels and she walked toward him with the grace of a ballerina, plucking from his hands the mask he’d been wearing. She leaned down and kissed him gently on his the cheek and smiled a sad, distant smile at him, then tied the mask across her face before turning and stuffing her dress, shoes and wig into a satchel.

It was then that Cole realized who she was…and just who her fiancé had been. “Oh my god…” he said, his face falling. “You’re Free Spirit…and you were engaged to Jack Flagg…the Resistants video…what they did to you…” He gasped, remembering the last few hours of activity they’d shared and how he came to be wearing that mask. “Oh shit…I’m sorry…” he said. “I didn’t know.”

“Shhhh,” Cathy said, smiling under her mask – Jack’s mask. “You were wonderful. Please tell my sister I had to leave on business. She doesn’t know who I am…or anything about Jack.”

“I won’t tell,” Cole said, truthfully. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” Free Spirit said, walking toward the window, where she stopped and turned around. “Thank you.”

“Will I see you again?” Cole asked.

Free Spirit looked at him without responding, then leaped out the window and was gone.

An hour later she stood over the grave of Jack Harrison, the love of her life, Jack Flagg. She had a busted lip and a swollen eye, with blood crusting the knuckles of her gloves, all from a gang of thugs she’d happened across on the way over here. It had been the second release of her pent-up emotions of the night, but it still wasn’t enough. She pulled his mask from her face, tears streaming down her face as she shrank to her knees. “I’m sorry,” she said as she wept, curling up into a fetal position. “I just miss you so much…”

Several hours later the infirmary was dark and quiet, with only one nurse on duty to oversee the sleeping form of Bonita Juarez, also known as Firebird, who had very nearly recovered from her injuries received while defending the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier from attack by the Machinesmith. Dr. Foster’s radical approach to her treatment had worked and she was expected to be released by the end of the week.

The other resident of the infirmary, Katie Tollifson, opened her eyes when she heard the door to the restroom close and she sat upright quickly, taking a look around. For privacy reasons, there were no cameras in the room positioned to oversee her bed, but if she moved any closer to the doorway or disconnected her IVs or other sensors alarms would blare and cameras would see her.

Or at least they would if the nanites in her blood had not been flooding back up the medical tubing for the last 6 hours and overridden much of the security in the infirmary as they slowly spread their way through all the systems of this compound. Within mere days the attack would commence, but the next step needed to be taken now while she had a chance.

Dropping her feet over the side of the bed, Katie gently pulled the lines and tubes from her skin, which slid out smoothly as the skin remained open from the probes so she’d be able to easily slip them back in when she returned. The heartbeat monitor continued to beep steadily as she pulled it from her index finger, and even the surgical-strength tape easily pulled from her skin with no sound or problem. Freed of the bed, and her shattered knee showing no evidence of problem, Katie stealthily walked across the infirmary to the room where Bonita Juarez lay, none of the cameras or sensors picking up on her movement, all screens showing nothing of her appearance.

She stood over the sleeping Firebird and rubbed her right hand over the scar running up her left forearm, which split like a zipper and a needle with a reservoir of clear liquid was exposed, which she quickly injected into the IV of saline solution feeding into Bonita’s arm and then returned the needle to her arm, resealing the scab. Smiling as none of the monitors around Bonita actually changed, Katie quickly stole back across the infirmary to her bed and began silently reattaching herself.

Though no one would be able to determine why, Bonita Juarez would not be waking up for the next several days and her unknown and potentially devastating powers would be removed from the board during the assault. Then, once the USAgent and his ‘team’ had been destroyed, Firebird and the other items of interest to the Watchdogs and their masters would be completely theirs for inspection, analysis and dissection, if necessary.

Smiling, Katie Walker Tollifson lay her head on the pillow and fell asleep.

Next Issue: Jack gets a chance to talk to Katie and learn about her time with the Watchdogs…but will he see through his ‘sister’ before it’s too late? Also, Moonhunter and Machine Man take a trip to Ravencroft Sanitarium to visit Dr. Ashley Kafka and determine if they are mentally fit to continue as a part of USAgent’s team…and maybe stop a breakout if they’ve got the time! Plus: what secret does Dr. Foster hold?