Gateway CityThe ivory colossus no longer cast its brilliant gaze on the dark waters below. It was now a sleeping giant, shrouded in trees and tall grass that swayed in the warm Pacific breeze. But this didn't mean the lighthouse had no more function. Just the opposite, the abandoned tower offered many uses to the people who enjoyed the view it gave them, the distance from prying eyes it afforded them, and the secret access to those dark and choppy waters below it provided.
Even now, those particular people in the small attached house scurried about in their evacuation. Denis Kosloff overseeing the exodus with a detached air. It was a shame they had to remove themselves from this location, it had served them well, but, with the Tranh's murder, he knew it was time to move the operation. There was no hurry, of course; any investigation into the fire and murders, when the bodies were found, would take days just to sort out the initial evidence. He patted the flash drive in his pocket and grinned.
I am going to miss that Tranh woman, desperation makes a person sexy as hell. He glanced around the bedroom he had used and nodded, thinking,
And I am going to miss this place.“Boss, we got a problem,” said a bulky looking thug with thinning black hair and dull eyes. “Out in front.”
Kosloff stepped up to the window and watched the dark shape coast to a stop some way down the road to the lighthouse. “Who--?” The lackey offered him a nightvision scope and the gangster focused on the two figures that stepped from the ebon sedan. A woman dressed in crimson, and a strange little man in a dull mustard costume. “Masks? How did they tumble onto us?”
“Don't know, boss, the lookout at the turnoff just radioed and said he saw the car comin',” the thick man told Kosloff.
“They do look a little familiar,” Kosloff muttered to himself. “But I didn't get into the business without expecting goody-goods coming to stick their noses into my business. We're ready, right, Lugo?”
“Yup, everythin's set,” the thug said, and nodded at his boss, standing firm.
“Well then, get in place!” Denis walked over to a nightstand and pulled out a gun. The first thing he'd done when he'd acquired this place was to get it ready for any of the vigilantes that might come after him. Luckily, he'd done his homework and now it would pay off as he grabbed a valise in his other hand and headed down the stairs.
As Lugo turned to the left at the bottom of the stairs and into the house, Kosloff turned right and dashed into the lighthouse itself, shutting the door behind him just seconds before the front door of the old lighthouse keeper’s home was savagely torn off its hinges by a powerful kick.
The Crimson Avenger stormed through the broken frame, the trademark red mist swirling around her as she leveled her automatics, ready to fire. “Kosloff! Vengeance is at hand, you monster!” she roared in warning as the sounds of activity from the kitchen at the back of the house, the direction Lugo had taken, drew her attention. She started to march in that direction, with Wing closely in tow.
“Avenger, we have to be careful, we don't know what numbers we face, or their armaments,” her partner cautioned as he looked around at the rustic cottage. He grabbed her shoulder and pointed to the door into the lighthouse, then at the stairs to the second floor. “We can't even be certain where they are.”
“We will get all the answers we need from there,” Crimson Avenger replied with an icy glare and shook his hand from her. She pointed her guns at the kitchen. “We move fast, move hard, and their numbers won't matter. Not with our edge,” she added with a wicked grin, as the scarlet smoke started to flow from her, scuttling across the floors in anticipation of the coming fight. “Don't waver in your faith now, Wing.” She turned back to the kitchen entrance and began her determined advance again.
“Travis, will you listen to her?” Sally's voice buzzed in the earpiece of Wing's cowl. “Something's wrong here, I keep telling you. She's...warped somehow.”
“I have to protect Lee, Sally,” Wing muttered back without pausing to follow but left his radio on so that the young woman in the car could keep track of their progress. It seemed the smart thing to do, given the circumstances, Travis decided.
“Lugo! Where is your master?” the Avenger growled as she reached the entry into the kitchen to see the large man and two others packing something in cases.
“Won't matter to you, chickie-poo,” Lugo said with a snorting laugh as he flicked a lightswitch. A heavy metal plate swung down from the kitchen ceiling to slam into the scarlet-clad woman. She staggered backward, head ringing and eyes momentarily glazed over, into Wing, who struggled to catch her fall.
The three men could be heard laughing through the metal plate, as a motorized sound behind the stumbling pair revealed the parlor floor dividing in half. The two heroes ungracefully spilled into the black depths below as the floor swept back up to lock into place with a final metallic snap.
“Okay, guys, let's get this stuff to the boss and get outta here,” Lugo said as they gathered the boxes up and headed for the lighthouse.
Dos RiosThe blue van bounced along the dirt road, dust and dirt scattered by the impatient wheels directed by its driver, eager to reach its destination. The ranch house lay only a few hundred feet ahead and the four passengers inside smiled at the sight, each for different reasons. Brenda Martin looked forward to her meeting with the legend whose weapon she had been privileged to bear; Yolanda Montez smiled at the thought that she'd be eating a home-cooked meal back here in her home city; Hayley Creamer Pemberton grinned at the idea of getting out of this beat-up old rustbucket and introducing her new friend Miguel to everyone; and Miguel DeVante smiled because he didn't want anyone else to know how nervous he felt inside. Each jolt of the van made his stomach slosh and increased the pit in his belly, but he felt Hayley's fingers squeeze his. She gave a thumb's up and a wink, Mickey winked back, then leaned into the seat.
As Brenda steered the vehicle into the arch of the driveway, the foursome were greeted by three men pleased at their arrival. Greg Saunders led the way, red kerchief at his neck and hat slung off the back of his head, his weathered face giving that trademark smile. Oliver Queen followed a step behind, his green shirt smudged with oil and a tear in the right knee of his blue jeans, but, for some reason, he seemed more relaxed by all that. His eyes found Yolanda and his emerald eyes twinkled as they met her own. Behind them both, hobbling on one crutch, was Sir Justin Arthur, the Shining Knight, looking odd in a simple white tank-top and black shorts. He forced himself to take the occasional unaided step, grimacing with the pain, but quickly put on a polite smile at the team's arrival. Not his team, he noted; not a single Soldier he fought so long beside from the Big One sat in that van. Most notably, not even his wife.
The four arrivals stepped out of the vehicle, the hot dusty air filled with a chorus of greetings from both sides. The two groups became a merged pool of seven people, hugging, hand-shaking and smiles all around. Save for two people, who faced each other from opposite sides of the group.
“Great to have you back, kid,” Greg said as he gave Hayley a hug she pretended to resist. “This is the new fella, I take it? Heard a lot about you, son, good to have you here.” He shook Mickey's hand as they were introduced.
“Yeah, this is Miguel, though we call him Mickey,” Hayley said as she watched the two. “DeVante. His last name, that is. Is DeVante. Pat said I should hang out here while he and Syl are out doing their thing, if that's okay?”
“Sure as shootin'. I can't wait to see what improvements you make to the old man's house while yer here,” Greg said with a laugh.
“Hiya, kitty-cat, how’re you doing?” Ollie said as he gave Yolanda a warm hug, one she returned with a sensuous affection.
“Doing great if the old man's roped you into slumming with us losers,” she said as she kept an arm around his waist and turned to look at the group.
“For a while. Sure. Never hurts to have a pro teach the new kids a few tricks,” Ollie teased right back.
“Don't know about any pros, but maybe there's an old dog that'd like to learn a few new tricks too?”
Ollie gave a snort of laughter at her statement.
Woman gives as good as she gets. Yeah, this is going to work. “Well, sounds like a deal then.”
“We want to watch this though,” Yolanda hushed him as she pointed to the last two members of the group. Ollie looked and realized what she meant. Indeed, the five parted and gave a clear field between Justin, who leaned on one crutch and looked at the scene with more and more distance, and Brenda, who was unusually reserved and quiet on the other side.
“Sir Justin,” Brenda said softly, the words spoken with such reverence they surprised the knight. She stepped up to him and then knelt down, holding his sword up in both hands. “Thank you.”
“Um...” Justin coughed and looked uncomfortable for a moment. “'Tis okay, Miss Martin. I know of the circumstances, and it pleases me to know that my blade was used in a noble crusade by one so...chivalrous.”
Brenda stood and put the sword into his hand. “Thank you for more than the sword, Sir Justin,” she said. “Your generosity opened up my own...connection, it's given me a chance to do even more. Given a chance for me to be Bradamante.” She impulsively hugged him and Justin looked over her shoulder at the snickering, giggling group of friends, lost and helpless.
“You are quite welcome, dear lady,” Justin finally said, regaining his poise as he disentangled from her. “I would be quite willing to help you master the sword. It is a most versatile weapon. While you stand as my replacement.”
“Not a replacement, just a temp. That's all. Nothing more than a temp office worker, believe me. You can't be replaced, Sir Justin.”
Justin blushed at this and chuckled as well. “Now 'tis my turn to offer thanks. This will make a more than adequate diversion while I get my own leg restored and can stand on the field of battle again, to take a squire under my wing.”
“He has no clue about the pun he just made, does he?” Ollie whispered to Yolanda. She nodded and laughed as he asked her, “How long did you prep the new girl to butter Justin up like that?”
“Not long. She catches on quick,” Yolanda answered with a smirk. “She had a clue anyway, and she really does think he's the bomb. She's into all that moldy-oldie knights and castles paquete.”
“Okay, everyone, let's head on in and belly up to the table. I got the eats ready, so let's get to it.” Greg waved his arm to signal everyone inside and stepped up to Brenda's side. He whispered to her, “Pretty smart there, young lady. Justin's been feelin' all outta sorts lately. Think you might jest have said everythin' he needed to hear.”
“Firebrand thought so too,” Brenda answered as they walked into the house. “She's been worried about him, but she, Skyman and Stripe really wanted to follow up on the Strike Force stuff while their leads were hot. We talked, and then Yolanda and I talked.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Justin as he kept up as best he could. “Besides, it's the Shining Knight. Getting to be his sidekick for even a little while? Oh yeah, I'm all about that.”
Greg noticed the way her smile brightened saying his name and then also glanced back at Justin, to give him a thumb's up as well, all the while wondering down deep what this all meant for the family of Soldiers.
Empire CityMarcie Cooper sat at her desk and monitored the communication between her boss and his allies, and used the opportunity of his escape from the White Sands Testing Range to complete her own plan.
It's been a long hard year of work, girl, she mused as she rapidly typed away on her laptop,
but it's gonna be worth it. Just a couple of more downloads, a few deletions, and I'm on my way. She chuckled and then glanced around the empty office before she continued with her work.
She grinned as she watched the information scroll across her monitor, and then her eyes slid across her desk to the picture. She saw the middle-aged woman stare back out from the silver frame, and she just rolled her eyes as memories bubbled up.
Marcie watched from across the large desk as Arthur Pemberton laid down the sum total of her collegiate work. He stared her hard in the eyes but she refused to back down at all. She'd read far too much up on this man to pass up the challenge of his stare.
“Interesting proposals, Ms. Cooper,” he finally said, then picked up the resume to glance over that again. “Some very impressive internships, while obtaining your degrees. An MBA and another Master's in International Finance; also impressive.” He dropped the folder on the desk and leaned closer, his voice dropped in volume, almost to a conspiratorial hiss. “And all of it so artfully written, there's a whole other world of information between those lines, if I don't miss my guess.”
Marcie let herself smile and nod, so still and polite in her seat. Her hands were folded over the pleated black skirt, and she noticed how it was just the perfect length to keep his peripheral vision returning to the sight. She crossed her legs and smiled a little more warmly.
“You think we can make these...archival discoveries you refer to in the appendix of your thesis?” Pemberton asked, as his fingers tapped the booklet she'd presented him.
“Considering the way your uncle was lost, I'd prefer to think of recovering his old laboratory, his old data and notes, as less archives and more...retroactive continuity,” Marcie said in a demure voice.
“Yes, a phrase you develop in your essay, very interesting application of it,” Pemberton said. He stared hard at the assembled information for several long minutes, the quiet in the office like a shroud. His eyes kept flitting up to her legs, and the way her oh-so-professional, tailored blouse contained her other assets yet offered a tantalizing hint of them, the triangular locket around her neck like an arrow aimed at her décolletage.
She felt a thrill inside as she saw all of her carefully crafted pieces fall into place. The clothes, the make-up, the writing, the application, her answers: all had been developed well in advance to push every button there could be in Arthur Pemberton. She had to have this job; it was the best opportunity for her long-range plans.
Finally, all the little glimpses, teases, wordplay and manipulation brought a predatory look to Arthur's face. “Ms. Cooper, I think we have a position for you here,” he finally said, and stood up, stretching a hand out to shake hers. “Let's discuss salary, benefits and responsibilities over lunch, shall we?”“Don't look at me like that, Aunt Harriet,” Marcie snapped at the photograph on her desk as she watched the progress bar fill up to completion. She hit several more keys in irritation now and bit her lip.
Talking out loud is a bad habit to get into for a villain, Marcie, she chided herself.
As for you, Aunt Harriet, don't judge me. If it weren't for all your books, and all your stories, I'd not be this close to all my dreams. It's your fault.“Marcie, you have that report finished up yet?” The young woman with the short red hair and petite body to kill for and bright sunny disposition that drove away clouds to light up a room poked her head in through the door to her office. “Old Man Stenton's being a bear about this audit, you know how he can be.”
“Oh, I understand totally, Missy,” Marcie laughed, so false and hollow as she grabbed up a folder and brought it to the sweet young thing. “All right here, and I think he'll be very pleased. You go run along and maybe we can grab some drinks after work.”
“Sounds great, thanks, Marcie,” Missy said as she hurried down the hall.
Marcie shook her head and giggled a little as she closed the door once more. She scurried back to the computer and called up a new program, initiated it and chuckled a little louder now. She then calmly began to collect her things, whistling pleasantly.
Dos Rios“There she is,” Ollie said with pride as he pointed to his motorcycle, currently taken apart piece by piece and carefully laid out on a large white sheet. Yolanda looked over his shoulder and arched a brow in bemusement.
“So I'm going to have to wait on that ride?”
“A little while, yeah. Told ya it was a work in progress,” Ollie replied with a smirk. “When I've got 'er rebuilt, she's gonna purr.”
“I like purring,” Yolanda said as she paced around the work area, a twinkle in her eyes. “The parts are nice. When you put it all back together, Dumpty here's going to be a monster, bien.” She stepped over to one stall and slid her fingers along her own bike. “One thing about the old Soldiers, they do love their toys.”
Ollie nodded at that as he stopped, picked up one of the scattered components and fiddled with it to keep his eyes from locking only on the luscious woman not so far away. “They love their family too. Look out for each other. Make sure things are both hunky and dory.”
Yolanda let out a chuckle and glanced at Ollie. “Smooth. Things are hunky,” she said with a wink, “but sí, not so dory.”
“Yeah, I noticed that station you work for has started to badmouth your kitty-cat side. That's gotta be rough. 'Course, we've all gone through it at one time or another, but to have to run yourself down, that's a kick in the ass.”
“It's more than that,” Yolanda said, her voice much heavier suddenly. “Harry Mangold selling KRZI to some company is just the start. He's got influence and he's speaking to the local and regional papers too.”
“Ah, I see. Got it. This isn't just someone with a social commentary ax to grind,” Ollie realized with a knowing look at his team-mate. “This is someone you've pissed off and they're gunning for you the slick and slimy way.”
“Derecho en el dinero,” Yolanda said, and leaned over the waist-high partition separating the two cycles and the two heroes. “There's been some big players from down south of the border that I've ticked off before getting sidetracked by the Soldiers.”
Ollie put down the oil pump he had played with while talking and moved over to the partition. He leaned across it as well and emerald green met chocolate brown as their eyes locked, mischievous grins creaking across both faces now. “Sounds like we've a date, kitty.”
She suddenly pivoted away and sauntered from the garage. “I'll pick you up at 12:30. Have your quiver ready to go.”
Gateway CitySally Bonner stood next to the car, still behind the open driver's side door, staring at the lighthouse and attached cottage. She'd heard the strange sounds and cries of pain from Wing and the current Crimson Avenger. Now she clutched the holstered revolver she'd grabbed out of the glove box of the car, stared at the buildings, and felt her heart race faster with fear and worry. She wasn't ready for this, she knew that. Despite the red mask that clung around her eyes, despite the protective, form-fitting clothes she wore, she knew she wasn't ready to play masked hero, which is why she and Wing agreed to the Avenger's decree that she remain with the car.
Now the two of them were in trouble. Sally slammed the car door shut and strapped on the gun belt. She began a dash to the cottage when the lights bobbing on the ocean caught her attention. She crept into the long shadows of the bushes, focused on the pinpoints of light, so dull and tiny on the dark waters.
A boat! Some kind of small powerboat, headed to the cliff, Sally mused as she watched the dim dot grow larger, and the throaty rumble of the engine started to be heard over the roaring surf. Sally turned back to the cottage where her friend and Lee were in danger and then back to the incoming vessel.
Obviously got a smuggler's cove down there, probably some tunnel down from the lighthouse. She looked back to the cottage again and clenched her fists so tight it hurt. Sally dashed to the car then back to the edge of the cliff. She secured the grappling hook and tossed the line over the side, beginning her descent and cursed the entire way down.
Travis can get them out of it, I'm sure, and Avenger can take care of himself...herself, whoever. But these guys will give them the slip in the meantime, unless someone gets in the way.As quickly as she could, Sally clambered down the jagged cliff face. The boat steadily approached, and she could get a glimpse of the cave opening when their searchlight swept across the area. She held her position and watched as the vessel disappeared from sight. Sally finished her scramble down the rope and swung down into the cave mouth, splashing into the cool salt water.
“You hear that?” Two men had stepped out of the boat and roped it to a nearby post, when one of them turned his head back to the entrance, where he'd just heard Sally drop into the water.
“What? The sound of water echoing against all the stone in here? Yeah, I heard it. Now c'mon, the boss is waiting for us,” the other guy said as he finished mooring the boat and started into the rocky chamber. It was deeply carved into the cliff, wide and comfortably high, lit by a generator powering a number of floodlights. At the center stood a number of boxes and containers.
Sally hadn't noticed any of that initially. She dropped into the water and then submerged for a time, trying to keep out of sight. It worked and soon she slowly peered up and took in her surroundings. A well-dressed man flanked by two others entered from a rough-hewn set of stairs on the far side of the cavern. She assumed that he had to be Kosloff.
“C'mon, c'mon, get loaded up and let's get out of here! I want to be setting up shop at my new digs by morning,” Kosloff ordered.
“I don't think you're going anywhere,” Sally said with as mean a snarl as she could muster. She pulled herself up out of the water, and drew her revolver. “You have unpaid dues right here in Gateway.”
“Another one? God, they're like cockroaches!” Kosloff yelled. “Well look here, we all got guns too, and we all outnumber you, five to one. Drop the gun and maybe we'll let you live with just a couple of busted knees.”
“Outnumbered is relative, Kosloff,” Sally said. She struggled with her voice, had to keep it even, low, confident, and she shifted the aim of her gun. “Let me even the odds up.” She fired several times and the generator exploded in crackling sparks. The lights stopped suddenly, and the spray of sparks and sudden darkness gave her the time she needed to move out from in front of the cave mouth. “Let's play this Scarlet's way, while I wait for my friends to catch up!”
Empire CityMarcie Cooper settled down at the restaurant's bar, and gave the server a bright grin as he approached with a glass of white wine.
“You're looking pretty happy this afternoon, Marcie,” he said with a warm smile of his own. “Good day at the office?”
“Absolutely. Possibly the single best day of work ever,” Marcie replied with a chuckle and fingered the rim of the glass. “And how's tricks here, Petey?”
“Going slow so far, but it'll pick up. You know the corporate folks around these parts, they love their long hours,” the bartender answered quickly. “Speaking of, Missy coming by? Isn't this usually drink night for you two lovely ladies?”
“She's tied up right now,” Marcie said and took a sip of her wine. “Like you said, long hours and all.”
“Well, I'm sure she'll be along soon,” Pete said as he wiped up the counter near Marcie and then turned to take another order.
Marcie stared up into the television as the news began its broadcast, her face still lit up with excitement. This was better than her first day of the operation. She knew it would be, but to have the confirmation, it made her giddy inside. It made her mind wander back several months earlier.
”Mr. Pemberton, what a thrill it is to get the chance to work for you,” she said as she shook hands with her new employer.
“I'm glad to hear that, Ms. Cooper,” Sylvester Pemberton said as he escorted the eager young woman into the makeshift offices. “There's a lot of work to do here so it's good to see some excitement. And really, it's going to be it's own thrill working with someone with your qualifications. I'm surprised you were willing to settle for this...this...”
“Start-up, sir?” she suggested and batted her eyes just the right number of times based on the preparations she'd been given, both by her relative's diaries, and Arthur's recollection.
“That's the word,” Syl chuckled as they settled down at a desk. “Here's your desk. Fix it up however you like. And drop the 'sir' and 'mister' okay? I'm Sylvester. I mean, right now, it's just three of us, you, me and Pat. I don't think it's going to upset the chain of command to call me Sylvester.”
She giggled and nodded. “Of course, si...Sylvester. And you'll be happy to know I took the initiative to start the legal digging and already have properties for you to investigate.” She handed him a folder from her computer bag and then fetched her laptop. “Something out west, an old company called the Roman Rocket Group. Not only is there a legal standing to push a claim on it, but some police reports of activity out there have popped up. Something to look into?”
Syl took the folder and looked it over, and his face became serious at the words. “Great stuff. Great start...Marcie?” She nodded and he continued. “Definitely the first thing to look into. I've got one more person I'm hoping to bring into the group at this phase, another partner. While I work on her, we'll need to started on developing a name, an identity, to really sell the project to investors and the public.”
“I...I had an idea on that too, si...Sylvester,” Marcie said and turned the laptop to face him. “I hope it's not too forward to suggest it?”
Syl's eyes lit up and he whispered what he read. “Infinity, Incorporated. That's the bee's knees, Marcie.” He gave her a thumb's up. “Okay, you get to work on the files and documents I've had brought up, while I work on the Rocket Group building. Great to have you on board.”
Marcie watched him dash off and chuckled. She turned and began to sort through the boxes of papers; punched up a folder on her laptop filled with information provided by Arthur of the Pemberton holdings he'd sold off to develop his Strike Force. She knew, somewhere in these boxes, was the lab, the one Harriet had referred to, the one with the gear. All that old tech from confiscated bad guys. She was so close to finding what she wanted, it made her lick her lips with excitement.“Marcie?” Pete's voice broke through her reverie and she shook her head and looked at him. He had a concerned look, and pointed to the television. “What the hell?”
She watched the reporter discussing the breaking news, the arrest of Melissa “Missy” Hyde of Arthur Investment Services on numerous charges of embezzlement. The camera on the scene caught the poor woman crying as police dragged her to a waiting car and Marcie's smile widened.
“Guess I don't have to wait,” she chuckled and slipped a five dollar bill to the stunned bartender. “Take care of yourself, Petey.”
Albuquerque, New MexicoThe Star Rocket Racer glided into a soft landing and rolled up into a space on the roof of the FBI's parking garage with the practiced hands of Patrick Dugan at the wheel. “Last stop, everybody out,” he said to his passengers.
As Sylvester Pemberton and Danette Reilly-Arthur stepped out from the antique flying car, they were greeted by a sharply-dressed woman, her badge clipped onto the shirt pocket. “Good afternoon. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Anita Sanchez from CID records. I'm here to help you with your request.”
“Great to meet you, Mrs. Sanchez,” Pat said as he shook her hand, having noted her wedding band. “We really appreciate the quick response.”
“Yes, very nice of you to accommodate us at the last minute like this,” Danette added as Anita led them to an elevator.
“My pleasure, and please call me Anita. To be honest, I asked for this when your request was passed down to my office,” she explained as they were lowered into the building. Soon they were led down a brick corridor with well-lit, soft carpets. The furnishings were all in warm colors, designed to be as relaxing as possible. “I think what you super-heroes do is amazing. I wanted to be in the DEO, to really help out, but it shut down and I ended up here. So this is just incredible.”
Syl chuckled a bit at her enthusiasm. “Glad we can make your day. Sorry we're not bigger names.”
“Maybe not, but everyone knows the Soldiers are the local guys and that's big in my book,” she answered as she settled into her chair, pulling out a thick folder. “Besides, I get to meet Firebrand. I remember my grandmother telling me what it meant to have the 'mystery girls' out there right up front with the men and your name got mentioned more than once.” She slid the folder over to Danette, who picked it up and started to flip through the pages with the guys looking over her shoulder.
Pat smirked as he watched the way Firebrand blushed at the praise. “She never believed us back in the day, Anita, when we told her that kind of thing.”
“Can we get back to the purpose of our visit, which is not embarrassing me?” Firebrand chastised her friends as they looked at the assembled file. “We're here looking up this Plastique, remember?”
“I'm capable of doing both, Dann,” Syl teased her and Pat elbowed him playfully in the ribs, which made Danette chuckle.
“Thanks for defending me, Pat,” she said. “Wow, just look at this. Bette Sans Souci. Been a terrorist since she was a teen-ager. Demolitions expert by the time she dropped out of high school, ran with a rough crowd in Quebec, then got busted.”
“Sometime after getting out of jail, she shows up as a freelancer, starts calling herself Plastique and, at some point, apparently picks up super-powers,” Syl read off now. “No clue where they came from? They're natural?”
“They seem to be,” Anita answered as she scrolled through the metahuman database. “She's never said anything about where they came from. We've got her classed as a moderate threat, since it's only the one ability, projection of explosive force from the hands. On the other hand, the actual upper measurement recorded makes it a
very powerful ability.”
“She ends up in prison after helping to bomb the Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary,” Skyman continued to peruse. “Then she kind of vanishes. Nothing on her record serving out, but she pops up six months ago, apparently bombing my holdings.”
Anita leaned in close and whispered to Firebrand, “Rumor has it that she ran with a governmental black ops team while in prison and got early release, but that's supposed to be 'beyond top secret' and even the President doesn't know about it.”
Dann smiled sweetly at the earnest woman. “Thanks, I'll make sure to keep it quiet.” She winked and then glanced up at Pat with a silent chuckle as the big man rolled his eyes when Anita turned back to her computer.
“Okay then, so we do have something on the attacks,” Anita said as she called up a field report with a few clicks. “According to this, she has been receiving a number of payments, timed with the attacks, so it's safe to say they're connected.”
“Safe to say,” Syl repeated as he looked at the report. “Someone's paying her, someone with some nice gear, if that airship that scooted her out of there was any indication. What's this?” He pointed to a series of numbers on the reported payments.
“Serial numbers for the account Plastique gets her money from,” Anita explained. “Why?”
“I know those serial numbers, is why,” Syl said. “Each of those numbers. These are all different accounts?” Anita nodded as Firebrand gave him a puzzled look. Not Pat, he squinted for a clearer view and then gave a startled look.
“What?”
“Those are his parents' birthdays,” Pat explained. “And this was his uncle's birthday,” he pointed to a third number. “Is that Merry's?”
Skyman nodded. “Pardon me,” he said as he pressed his hands past Anita's and typed rapidly on the computer. Arthur Pemberton's face came onto the monitor, with a NSA flag at the top. “Keeping it in the family, the bastard.” There was a second flag in the report, and he took in the information gravely. “That's very odd. According to this, his investment firm just got a lot of money stolen from it. He's stealing from himself?”
“Looks like. What say you, Skyman? Time to go pay your nephew a visit?” Pat cracked his knuckles with a grin.
“Let's call up some of the others and see who wants to take a trip to Empire City,” Skyman agreed.
Dos Rios“I feel goofy in this get-up,” Ollie grumbled as he took great pleasure in holding Yolanda's waist while she arrowed her bronze-colored bike through the darkened streets of the town. “And naked without my hat.”
“You're wearing a hat, amigo,” La Garra pointed out as she grinned at the strong arms on her waist. With the wind in her hair and the strong scent of the man behind her, she felt intoxicated.
Oliver Queen indeed wore a hat; a spare brown Stetson lent to him by Greg, who also insisted that he find something to wear in action, if he refused to be Green Arrow. So Ollie had on a heavy red denim shirt, and a blue bandanna tugged up over the lower half of his face. All of this surprised him; he thought he felt self-conscious in his standard heroic garb, but now, he felt like a bank robber...or Greg's junior sidekick. “Wonder if this is how Dick felt when he was a kid?” he muttered.
“Qué? Quién?”
“Nobody important. You got someplace in particular for tonight's ride?”
“There's a guy I know who gives me the lowdown on the organizations in the area,” La Garra explained. “I'm hoping he's got something he can tell me about what's happened to Mangold.”
She eased the bike down into a wide alley and came to a stop. She pointed to a rear door, next to a loading dock and muttered, “Ringo's Pawn Shop. We're bound to get some kind of chatter.”
The rear door opened up suddenly, three men dashing into the shadowy alley, surprise evident on their faces at running into the new arrivals. “Or maybe not,” Ollie said as he drew out his bow, nocked an arrow and released in one quick easy motion. “Go check on your boy, kitty-cat. I got the trash.” A second arrow quickly followed, with a third after that, before the three men had made it more than a couple of dozen yards.
La Garra sprinted into the shop's storage area and up the narrow stairs to the apartment above. There she found Ringo in his bed, soaked in his own blood that had poured out from the gap where his head had once rested. Yolanda paused at the sight and growled. Her nails instinctively extended when she read the note jabbed into his chest with a long needle. “Keepin' his mouth shut for him.” With a snarl she dashed back out to the alley.
The archer had closed with his quarry. The first one had been pinned to a large wooden pallet and he received a crack in the head with the bow to keep from trying to escape. Ollie moved up to the second, who lay on the ground and clutched his calf, the arrow shot through the leg muscles. “Don't even need to hit you,” Ollie darkly chuckled as he moved up to the third man.
This one he'd chosen to go tricky, to play with the man; he'd aimed up high and arced the arrow so it landed in time to slice through the man's foot and pin him to the ground. Under the bandanna was a mean grin as he reached the victim and grabbed him by the back of the hair to stare into the face. He could hear La Garra leap out from the door. “Okay, now you and I are--”
Ollie froze as he met the eyes that glared back up at him with fury. The face rattled Oliver Queen, and shook up memories, from months back, of the first domino in a chain of events that brought him to this place.
“Fair enough,” he finally replied. “But this is how I’m seeing it. Either way, you ain’t going to kill me. It’s one thing to eliminate the competition or even Feds who are getting to close; however, you take out a bona fide member of the Justice League and you’re going to have a world of hurt coming your way that not even you could deal with. So here’s the plan; you tell me where Juan Sanchez went and I won’t bust your goons heads open and rip this town apart – not to mention shoving that God-awful cigar of yours where the sun don’t shine.”
“We kill him?” One of the men asked.
Three piece suit man just grinned as he took a long drag from the cigar. He waved for his men to put the guns down. “I will give you more than just Sanchez’s destination. I will also give you back your motorcycle, fixed, and some words of advice.”*
*
see Green Arrow #19 for the full story“We're gonna kill you bad now, Arrow,” the man who had been the bodyguard those months back spat at Ollie.
“Not you!” the enraged archer said as he pulled an arrow out and raised it up to jab into the man. La Garra's hand snatched his wrist and held it in place over his head.
“Not on the Soldiers' time,” she said to him. “Not on G...Vigilante's dime.”
Ollie just stared at the man, trembled with fury and nodded. “If I'm gonna go to prison for life, it's going to be for the fat man, Juarez, himself.”
The guard started to get faint now, as blood pooled around his pinned foot, but he still got a sharp laugh off. “El Papagayo...idiotas. Juarez just...a one of his partners. But he's gonna kill you, Arrow...and do bad, bad things to the puta...”
Yolanda snapped a vicious kick into the back of the man's head and shoved it forward into a hastily-raised knee from Oliver Queen that shattered his nose and dropped him into unconsciousness.
“Kitty-cat, this has gotten very personal,” Oliver said as he continued to shake.
Yolanda rested her hands on Ollie's shoulders and squeezed hard. She went to speak but found nothing to say. There was a joke but she let it slide. There was a supportive thought but she let it drift away. Yolanda just gave him a quick hug and led him back to the motorcycle.
Gateway CityThe Crimson Avenger and Wing pulled themselves slowly to their feet, shaking off the hard fall, as they took in their prison. A simple square room, made of stone, darkness and clammy air pressed down on them from all around.
Wing unclipped the pocket flashlight from his belt and shone it around, the bright beam slicing a narrow cone of light. He moved up along one of the walls and noted regularly spaced holes burrowed deep into the stone and earth. “This doesn't look good. They've probably mined this whole area with explosives. Move everything out, set it off and, this close to the cliff, it will all slide into the ocean. Look like natural erosion, destroy all the evidence...and us.”
Crimson Avenger stood in the middle of the room, firearms clutched in her hands, as she hugged them to her bosom. Her eyes were closed in concentration as Wing spoke. “Kosloff is still close. I can tell. Just beyond that wall,” she said and then pointed.
“Well that's not a big help right now,” Travis said as he looked up at the ceiling. “Too high up for us to reach, no real way to get out that way. But...er, Scarlet was listening in, she knows we need help. There's rope in the car.”
“Scarlet is unnecessary. She will not hold back the Avenger's wrath again,” Lynn said in an ugly voice, heavy with jealousy and hatred. “And she will not get between us.” She turned her head to look at Wing, who felt his throat go dry at the intensity. “Nor do we need her to get us out of here. Kosloff can not contain the spirit of vengeance.”
Slowly, the trademark scarlet smoke started to filter away from her, spreading across the floor. It spread out quicker and quicker, and Travis watched in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“You'll see. Come close,” she said as her hand reached for him. He stepped up next to her and she pulled him in tighter. “Closer, Wing.” Lynn smiled and pulled him tighter. “Close as you can.”
“I'm close enough for comfort, Lee,” Wing responded awkwardly, to reach the spirit of his friend as the smoke started to fill the room faster and faster now. He didn't like the way her arm wrapped around him and pressed him to her. Not that Lynn was an unattractive woman; just the opposite, especially in the tightly wrapped red duster that accentuated her. But this was a mission and inside her was Lee Travis. Wing couldn't understand how he seemed so buried this time.
“Hold your breath, Wing,” she said as the smoke reached their heads and still filled the room. He did so and his vision was obscured. The smoke was so heavy, so thick this time. It was almost oily, it weighed on him as it rose over his head. He reached his hand out and it felt like swimming in mud. The further away his hand reached, the denser it became. It dawned on Wing what she was attempting.
Suddenly, she shifted her arms, pulling them back and then thrusting forward, guns firing as Wing felt his body being shifted by the soup engulfing them. It flowed with her movements, her mystic ammunition slamming into the rock. The dense smoke followed and crashed through the wall with a roar that filled the larger cavern beyond.
“KOSLOFF! Your time has come!” the Crimson Avenger declared as she marched out from the tidal wave of red fumes and leveled her firearms in his direction. Wing staggered out behind her, gulping fresh air as he tried to peer through the mix of gloom and smoke.
“Wing! Avenger!” Scarlet called out as she saw them enter the cavern. She continued to dash from place to place, striking then moving on, as flashlights tried to pin her down, only adding to the disorientation of the battle.
“Damn you, bitch! Who are you? What do you want with me?” Kosloff snarled from another location and snapped off a shot from his gun that went wild. He raced for the boat and the Crimson Avenger pursued him.
“I want vengeance for Lynn Trahn, and her husband!” she declared as she shoved past Scarlet. “And you, woman, I told you to stay in the car. We don't need another!”
Wing noticed that two of Kosloff's men were unconscious and felt pride well in his chest at how well Sally had contained their escape on her own. He moved with speed and precision, crisp kicks and punches lashing now against the remaining men. This was his element.
“That bitch loved it, every minute of it, don't give me that crap!” Kosloff yelled back as he leaped into the boat and quickly started the engine up.
“NO! You can't say that! She loved her husband, did everything to save him, and your lies can't change that!” Crimson Avenger sprang forward with desperate strength, to land with a thud on the back end of the boat just as Kosloff tossed the away the rope securing it.
“That's sounding awfully personal, there something about you I should know? She giving it up to you as well? Wouldn't surprise me,” Kosloff taunted, and backed up to the throttle, throwing it open.
Sally saw their confrontation and knew in her heart what was going to happen. She ran with all her might as the Avenger fully slid into the boat now. Sally leaped off the edge with a fearful cry, barely snagged the rope, and was pulled hard onto the unyielding water.
“You horrid, heartless fiend,” Avenger said as she reached Kosloff. He spun at the last minute and struck her side with a small fire extinguisher The blow pushed her back again.
“Whatever, you nutjob. I got what she wanted to give and ain't nothing going to change that. As for you--” Kosloff was cut off as the Avenger threw her leg up and kicked the makeshift weapon back into his own face. She shoved him away from the controls as Sally finally managed to pull herself into the back of the boat despite the unmerciful wake it was creating.
“As for the Crimson Avenger, I am going to do what needs to be done. What I was born for, what I live for,” she snarled as she stood up and leveled her guns at his head.
“No!” Scarlet screamed as she tackled Kosloff and they crashed into the glass screen, cracking under the force. The gunshots tore into Sally's thigh and she screamed again, in pain, as blood began to pour from her.
“Protect the guilty and suffer with them, the guns of the Crimson Avenger make no distinction!” Lynn declared as she shifted her aim but not before Sally's hands could clutch the barrels of the gun. Behind her, Kosloff lay unconscious, forehead bleeding heavily from the glass.
“He's done. We have the evidence we need to put him away, Lee's mission is complete!” Sally said with a fierce look on her face. “I've been joined with him, I know what he's meant for and it's not murder!”
“Let! Go!” Lynn demanded as she tried to wrench the guns away from the other woman and then tried to fire the weapons to dispatch Scarlet, but she felt Lee ebbing away from her with Kosloff's capture. “No! Don't go! You can't go! Stop! I'm the Crimson Avenger! I have a purpose now, this is my chance to be pure and righteous again! STOP!”
But Sally ignored her. She wrenched the weapons from Lynn's hands with all her might and threw them into the air. At the height of their arc, they drifted into the night sky like so much more sanguine smoke and Sally felt Lee's presence again for just a moment, like a kiss on her forehead,
Thank you.“NOOO!” Lynn screamed in fury and grabbed the yoke of the boat, twisted it, aimed it now for an outcropping of rock. “I'm the Crimson Avenger now! I can be good again!”
Sally grabbed Kosloff as best she could and tried to reach out for Lynn. But the woman's boot was her only answer. Sally used the momentum to carry them both from the boat into the cold ocean. She watched in horror as the boat shredded against the rocks, watched Lynn vanish into the darkness, with only that tear-stained, grief-stricken face to haunt her while she waited for rescue.
Santa PriscaMarcie took a look at her watch and reached under her seat to slide out her bag. She walked to the rear of the passenger jet, whistling as she slipped into the lavatory. She unzipped her bag and looked at the special glasses that stared back up at her, on top of the velvets and silks down further. A single piece of high-tech material, she lifted it up reverently and the reflections distracted her attention.
”I'm here, Arthur,” she purred as she finally undid the last security bolt and slipped into the musty old storage bunker. Her flashlight swept the boxes and her face lit up excitedly. All that research, all those cryptic notes from Aunt Harriet's diary, Skyman's records, and Arthur's files put together have brought her to the cusp of her plan. Her excited grin twisted into something wicked as she added, “There's no doubt that your uncle Sylvester is planning to bring you down in revenge. And with the gear in here, if he came across it first, he'd absolutely have the edge.”
She listened over her Bluetooth as Arthur ranted in defiance, promising to see his nephew driven into ruin, blah blah blah. The words didn't matter, it was the manic tone in his voice that made her heart beat faster. All that work she'd put into seeding paranoia into Arthur's mind was paying off and she barely suppressed a giggle in time. She opened up boxes and looked at old costumes for the Star-Spangled Kid, Stripe, Merry the Girl of a Thousand Gimmicks, some of the other soldiers; a tattered blueprint for the cosmic converter belt; records on masked criminals the Soldiers battled; most of this was junk that she discarded but she knew it had to be here. Aunt Harriet listed Sylvester as one of those 'top men' the government turned to and she delivered this to him. There was no further trail so it had to be here, where Merry hid everything following the Soldiers' disappearance.
“Cooper!” She snapped back to attention at Arthur's scream.
“Yeah, boss? What?” She listened to his next orders and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I'm almost done setting up the backdoor into his accounts. Don't worry. A press of the button and I'll be siphoning all that leftover capital of his for you.” Not, you lunatic, but you think that, she thought.
The next box was opened and there it was: the Harlequin's glasses. She jumped in triumph and clamped her hand over her mouth before she started to whoop out loud. “Boss, I have to turn this off, I'll call you in another hour. Bye.” She switched her phone off, knowing it would earn a major tongue-lashing from Arthur. No biggie, I can use my own 'tongue-lashing' to distract him, she mused.
She pulled the glasses out and slipped them into her backpack, along with the papers Sylvester had written up on them before he was thrown out of time. She was only weeks away from grabbing money from both Pembertons and making her mark in the world. Marcie giggled aloud and grabbed other items that interested her before she sealed the bunker back up.She lifted her face to stare in the lavatory mirror and saw the white 'make-up' effect, ruby red lips and brilliant red hair. Her sleek velvet coat-and-tails over the white silk and lace shirt, her striped trousers, she giggled further. “Hello, Harlequin,” Marcie murmured to herself. She tested the connections to her short white gloves, and nodded.
I'll keep the name, use it to my advantage. Everyone in the super world remembers the old Lantern and Harlequin romance fable. Let people think they can reach my tender, misguided heart. She laughed at that and packed up her bag with the old clothes. She adjusted her controls and watched her costume vanish under the hard-light illusion, looking normal.
“Attention, passengers, we're on final approach to our destination. Please return to your seats and bring them to an upright position, belting yourself in. We'll be disembarking in 20 minutes and welcome to Santa Prisca.”
Marcie left the lavatory and returned to her seat. She started to run the script in her head for meeting with the paragon of super-villainy, Mr. Luthor. Picked out the precise words, actions, innuendo to poke him with.
Start with Superman, that always rattles him. She chuckled again and the man next to her edged over to give her more space. “Just thinking of a joke I heard before leaving the States. Relax. It's not like I'm a super-villain,” she assured him and blew him a kiss before she returned to her scripting.*
*
see Secret Society of Super-Villains #9 for the results of her scriptingTwo jokes called Pembertons. Don't worry, Skyman. I'll be back to play with your Soldiers very, very soon, Marcie Cooper thought as she settled back and placed her hands behind her head, the grin on her face continuing to unnerve her neighbor.
Then the plane touched down as hours behind her, uncle and nephew discovered the looted accounts and each knew exactly who was responsible: the other. Their war heated up.
