Strangest of Heroes
Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust are walking different paths, but they might lead to the same destination.
[Author's note: This story takes place a few days after the events of the story Best of Frenemies, which in turn takes places a while after the movie Deadpool.]
Ellie – Negasonic Teenage Warhead – took a deep breath. Then a blast of energy shot out of her. The target dummy disintegrated.
"That is ... alright," said Colossus. "But the task is about control. You were supposed to hit only the weapon person was holding."
"You don't always want complete destruction," said Anna – Rogue. "Sometimes you want precision."
"I could do it a few days ago, and that was for real," Ellie muttered.
"What was special about that time, young one?" said Colossus.
For starters, no-one was calling me young one, thought Ellie.
"Anyway, maybe that is enough for today," said Anna.
So Ellie returned to her room. It was remarkably bare: a sleeping bag in one corner and a cardboard box in another, a few other things scattered around. She sat on the floor and, after a while, took a book made from stapled, photocopied pages from the backpack. She began to read, shuddering when she read certain passages. She found another section at the end of the book, a list of clients and buyers. One name kept coming up: the Warlord. Right from the start, he had been a major purchaser of mutants from the Factory. Probably, thought Ellie, the evil-fuck equivalent of a wholesaler. There was an address.
Anna knocked on the door and came in. She looked around for a chair, didn't find one, and then sat down next to Ellie. After a while, she said, "You know, we could get you some furniture. Goes with the regular mansion re-build."
"This is how I lived for a long time," said Ellie. "Before here."
There was a long silence between them. That was alright with Ellie. Long silences were kind of her thing.
Then Anna said, "You're distracted. I'm thinking it has something to do with what you're reading. What is it?"
"Stuff of nightmares," said Ellie. "This is a copy of a record about the mutant Factory that created Deadpool, as well as a lot of others that weren't so lucky. The early days."
"You want to tell me how you got it?"
"No."
"Or who you got it from?"
"No."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"No idea. I thought it would help track down some mutants who might be in trouble. Now I am not so sure. I've heard of a few of them. Bad guys. Or working for bad guys, at least. Might not be the same thing, I know. They were fitted with control collars. Sometimes, that took away all or part of their memories. Under the circumstances, that was almost a mercy."
There was another long silence. Anna said, "Are you happy here, Ellie?"
"Happier than I have been anywhere else."
"That is not really an answer. The question I am really asking is, do you think you want to be an X-Man?"
Ellie shrugged. "Not sure. It's nice to be with ... unusual ... people. But ... I'm not sure that I'm the right sort of person. I've been thinking about it ever since the thing with Deadpool."
Anna nodded.
"There's something I don't understand," said Ellie. "How is it that you guys always know what to do? Know what the right thing is, I mean. It seems to be very clear to you. Like Colossus with his five key moments. I don't think I've understood that part of the training. I've been to the Professor's classes and everything. But ... I'm not sure I get it."
"Yeah, that's hard. In the end, I don't think it can be taught. Not really. It's something you have to find for yourself. Ellie, do you know what a Rumspringa is?"
"Course not."
"It's a term the Amish people use. It means, sort of, going out into the world. It's the final part of a person's education. When they come back, they decide whether they want to commit to the community or not. Some do, some don't. Maybe it's time for your Rumspringa. I think that this book might be part of that."
There was another long silence as they both turned over their thoughts. Then Ellie said, "Yeah, okay."
"Do you, uh, need money?"
Ellie opened the backpack and showed the contents to Anna.
"Whoa," said Anna. "I don't want to know where you got it."
"No. You don't."
It was the next day. Ellie and Colossus were at the bus stop not far from the Xavier mansion. "You have been good trainee, young one," said Colossus. "What more you must learn, I cannot teach."
"And you have been a good ... whatever you are."
The bus arrived and the door opened. Ellie hefted her pack and started to get on.
Colossus held out something. It was a protein bar. "For trip," he said. She smiled, as much as she ever did, and took it.
"And give the big lady best regards," said Colossus.
Part II
Christina – Angel Dust – was standing outside the building which, she believed, was the headquarters of the Warlord. Eight stories, and dedicated entirely to the Warlord's operations. It was not the only building of his organisation but appeared to be the main one. She had never met the Warlord; when she worked at the Factory all the sales were handled by Francis.
She often felt lost without Francis. He had been the one who told her what to do, and when, and how. She had supplied the muscle. Even the plan to get to Shole had been suggested by Francis.
Not that he had cared about it, one way or another. Or about anything. When she had mentioned that she needed to find her brother he had simply stared at her, feeling nothing.
At first, she had thought that he could not enjoy anything. But gradually she had come to realise that he enjoyed inflicting pain on the people – wracked by disease or, like she and her brother, broken by injury – who had come into the Factory. Perhaps that was why the consortium who had owned it had plucked him out of the production line and put him in charge. She did not know why he had picked her to be his assistant. She assumed that he simply needed someone to do the heavy lifting. It was quite clear that he was not capable of feeling desire. A little grudging respect for her abilities, perhaps, but that was all.
So she had worked at the Factory, doing what she did. It was better than being a collared slave, and it even paid well. And if she had not agreed to go to the Factory in the first place – and agreed on the condition that her brother, who had been rendered near-comatose in the accident, would be included in the deal – she would certainly have died from the injuries.
She took something from the pocket of her jacket. A photograph. It was cracked and faded. It was all she had. She put it back, and looked at the building again.
Her first instinct had been, once she had got the address from the book, to go in punching. But there were clearly many people in the building, most of them armed. She did not know what weapons they might have but the fact that the Warlord was familiar with mutants meant that there was probably specialist hardware. She might be tough but she was not bullet-proof. So a frontal assault might not be the best way.
She had seen a helicopter come and go from a pad of the roof. She began to walk around the block, looking upwards. The next building was about the same height. The gap between them was too far for a normal person to leap.
But she was not a normal person.
The Warlord was seated at his ornate desk, studying the accounts of his organisation. The black-tech trade and people trafficking divisions of the business were doing well but the collapse of the Factory, and the end of the stream of mutants, had punched a very large hole in what he called the 'special weapons' side. Clients were starting to complain about the lack of new supplies. He had begun to form a plan to start another Factory. Under his control. Cut out middle men like Ajax, prick that he had been.
He picked up an invoice and stared at it. It was from the company that manufactured and supplied the collars that turned the mutants into slaves. Of course, it wasn't as easy as simply strapping one on. Their minds had to already be pretty much shattered; the Factory had been good for that. If their memories had been suppressed it was easier, although the process was not always successful or permanent. And a collar lasted, at the most, five or six months. So you had to keep replacing them. Eventually, their minds turned to mush anyway.
He glanced at the mutant, his bodyguard/assassin, standing in the corner. A huge figure, with jagged scars running across his face. At the end of his right arm was a massive bone hook. That was why the Warlord had called him Talon. He had served well – the Warlord could not remember how many of his enemies had been torn apart by that claw – but was probably nearing the end of his useful life. So in the few months he would probably be sold to one of the mandingo corporations, and the Warlord would buy a new mutant bodyguard. A pretty young woman, perhaps, one who could also ... perform other duties.
He looked again at the invoice. He was sick of paying for something he should rightfully own. He had recently made a takeover bid for the company – New Age Control Systems – but it had been rejected. The bid had only been money. Maybe it was time to make the owner another offer, one that could not be refused. That would fit with the Factory plan. Vertical integration, cover all the bases. Monopolise the mutant business. Because that's what they were. Business. Assets. Products.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of an alarm. A security breach. He turned to the bank of monitors on one wall of his office as the head of his security unit came running in. "The roof," said the man. "A sensor was tripped. Someone jumped from the building next door."
The Warlord looked at the monitor covering the roof. It showed a large woman making short work of the uniformed guards there. "A strong one, by the look of things," he said. "Get a squad up there, heavy gear. Take no action until I get there, I want to see this one go down."
By the time he and Talon reached the roof the woman had dispatched several more of his men, although now she was surrounded. When she saw him, she threw down the two guys she had been punching.
"May I know the name of the lady who has been turning my men into pulp?" he said to her.
"They call me Angel Dust," she said. "And I'm no lady. I want to know what happened to one of the mutants you bought. A few years back. Or I'll keep taking your little army apart."
"Ah, but there have been so many, so many, my dear. Perhaps I should tell you that I don't respond well to threats. In fact, I have had a lot of practice in dealing with people like you." He gave a gesture, and his men drew tasers. Not ordinary tasers; these packed enough charge to bring down an elephant. The first man fired, and the barbs whacked into her. The charge made her shout with pain – but she was able to pull the wires out.
And she pulled the second one out – just. But not the third, or the fourth, or the fifth. She sagged to her knees, paralysing current running through her. "Painful, eh?" said the Warlord.
"Had worse," she said through gritted teeth.
"Huh," said the Warlord. "Well, if you've been through the Factory, that might be true." He gave another gesture. Talon stepped forward, and raised his massive claw, ready to strike.
She looked up at him. "Pietro," she whispered.
And then he hit her.
She came awake slowly, every muscle aching. She was lying on a table, unable to move from the neck down. She tried to lift herself. Nothing.
"Stasis field," said the Warlord, standing next to the table. "You might be able to break chains or ropes, but not this. The harder you push the more it pushes back."
She could see that she was in some sort of lab, and the field around her gave a faint shimmer. There was a technician in a white coat standing nearby.
"I think you might be worth something," said the Warlord. "One of my business partners runs a, well, I suppose the old-fashioned word is brothel. Specialising in mutants. I suppose there are men who would find you attractive, in a way. Not me, I should say, I prefer the young ones. Nevertheless, I think you'll fetch a decent price. Once you've got a collar on. Of course, that entails breaking your mind. That won't be too hard. Like this."
The technician pushed a button, and a massive jolt of electricity ran through Christina. She would have screamed, had she been able.
"One of those every few minutes should do it, in a day or so," said the Warlord. "Well, I'll be seeing you. Not that you'll know, of course."
He turned and walked away. The technician pushed the button again.
Part III
Ellie was sitting in a cafe, studying the building. She had decided what she needed to do, and this was a place to start. But what next? The man she wanted, the Warlord, was sure to be protected, and he was certain to be smart. What had Colossus said? Under-estimating your enemy is the path to failure. Use all your assets, young one.
She thought about her powers. Yes, she could generate energy fields about herself, and even project them for a short distance. The problem was that it took her several seconds to build up her energy, and for those seconds she was vulnerable. And she was still trying to find a way to control her powers, to focus them and define them. It was difficult, especially in high-stress situations.
Not really the sort of powers that she needed to get in there and locate the information she wanted. She ran her hand over her cropped hair. Then she stopped. Hmm, she thought. Use all your assets.
One of the guards at the front desk nudged the other one. He nodded towards the young woman coming through the main doors. Long blond hair, a tight shirt cut to the cleavage, a skirt so short it was almost a belt, and thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots. And a shiny blue ribbon around her neck.
"Whoa, momma," said the guard softly.
She came up to the desk. "I have a package," she said. "To Mister The Warlord."
"And what's the package?" said one of the guards.
"Me," she said, with a vixen smile. She pointed to the ribbon. There was a tag: To my best client. From Ajax.
The guard pushed a button on the console. "Sir," he said. "There is a ... a package here for you. A young woman. From Ajax."
A camera lens turned towards her.
The voice of the Warlord came through a speaker: "I thought Ajax was dead."
"Which is what he wanted everyone to think," said the woman. "Now he's back. And he has sent me to make amends for ... the inconvenience."
She leaned forward on the desk, showing her quality-over-quantity cleavage to the camera.
There was a long pause. "How old are you, my dear?" said the Warlord.
"Old enough," she said. "But just barely."
A few more seconds passed. Then the door of a private elevator hissed open.
"You can go up," said the guard.
In the elevator, she checked the outfit. It would have been useful, she thought, if someone at the mansion had shown me how to walk in high heels. And to wear a wig. But no, it was all destroy this or don't destroy that.
The door opened and she stepped into the Warlord's office. He was standing in front of his desk, with a bodyguard, a mutant with a scarred face and a clawed hand, behind him, leaning against the wall. A half-dozen human guards were in the office as well, with weapons.
She walked up to the Warlord. She pulled the ribbon off and handed it to him.
"And just what can you do, girl?" he said.
She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. He smiled. "Certainly a better offer than the one made by our other visitor today," he said.
"Other?"
The Warlord pointed at one of the monitors. It showed Christina, trapped on a table, convulsing as much as she could within a stasis field. Ellie stifled a gasp.
She forced a smile, and nodded towards the guards. "I don't think we need an audience," she said. "Unless you want it that way, of course."
He gestured for the guards to leave, which they did. But the big mutant stayed.
Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her savagely on the lips. His breath tasted of something harsh, sour and Russian. He let her go, and then put his hand on her head to push her to her knees. "Let's see if you can do what you say, young one," he snarled.
Another man who calls me young one, thought Ellie. She fought down her disgust, but she could feel the energy beginning to build, unbidden.
The Warlord was still pushing her down, winding his fingers into the blond hair.
And then the wig came off.
Ellie jumped back. The Warlord looked at the wig in his hand. Then he looked at her.
"Yep," she said. "You're screwed."
Her eyes began to glow.
The Warlord moved, lunging for a button on his desk. "Talon, kill her!" he shouted.
She unleashed a burst of kinetic energy, pushing the desk across the room, into Talon, ramming him into the wall. The Warlord was thrown the other way, sliding across the floor.
She had an idea. She touched her ear, as if to activate a transmitter hidden there. "All units advance!" she shouted. "Squad A, the main entrance, Squad B, the back!"
She saw the Warlord start in surprise. "An X-Man," he said.
"That's X-Woman to you, moron," she said.
But the alarm had been sounded, and guards were beginning to pour into the room. One of them fired a taser at her; she generated a shield that stopped the barbs dead. She extended it, pushing the men back. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Warlord and Talon disappear through a side door.
More of the guards were firing at her now, tasers and other weapons, and she was struggling to keep her shield in place. She was in danger of being overwhelmed. She suddenly realised, almost absurdly, that much of the bimbo clothing from Makeovers'r'Us had been burned away by her energy bursts. She was down to her underwear.
She glanced again at the monitor, at the image of Christina. On the bottom of the screen was the location. Fourth floor.
"Goddamn," she muttered. "I guess now I have to save you. Since we're friends."
The door of the elevator was still open. She dived for it, rolling to avoid the taser shots. The doors closed behind her, and she pushed the button 4.
The lab technician had heard the alarm, and was wondering what she should do. Then the door exploded, and a young woman wearing scorched lingerie walked in.
"First, give me the coat," said the woman. "Second, get out."
The tech handed over the coat and then ran for the exit.
Another alarm started. Over a speaker, a voice said, "This facility has been compromised. All personnel evacuate to Beta site."
Ellie pulled the coat on and looked at the control panel of the table. She couldn't make head or tail of it ... so she put her hand on it and blew it to hell. The stasis field evaporated.
She helped Christina sit up. "Good ... good to see you again," rasped Christina.
"I suppose I should ask if you are alright," said Ellie. "But that would be a stupid."
"Yeah, stupid and then some. Do you know where the Warlord and his bodyguard are?"
"No, but I'm guessing they're leaving. No idea how."
"Helicopter, probably. We should get up to the roof, maybe we can catch them. Wait, let me make sure that I still have – " She checked the pockets of her jacket. She gave a sigh of relief as she pulled the photograph out.
Ellie looked at it. It was of two young people, ordinary, smiling, almost laughing, as if they had had too much to drink. They looked as if having too much to drink was not unusual for them.
"Who is it?" said Ellie.
"Me, and my brother Pietro," said Christina as she massaged sensation back into her legs. "I'd thought he was dead until one of the people who had worked for Francis said something. But Deadpool turned that guy into kebab before he could tell me more."
"But ... you look so different," said Ellie.
"This photo was taken before the accident, before the Factory, before everything. The Factory ... the process ... it changed me. Made me ... like this. It changed him too, I guess. He was shipped out before I ... was finished. When I saw him today, he didn't recognise me. His memory must have been suppressed by the damn collar."
"The bodyguard? Talon, I think he was called."
Christina nodded. "We have to get to the helipad."
They ran up the stairs, Ellie assisting Christina as well as she could. The door leading to the roof was locked but Christina tore it off its hinges. She was regaining her strength fast.
The helicopter was already a hundred metres away.
"Can you bring it down?" said Christina.
"Too far."
"But you can try!"
Ellie stared at her. "Too far, I said. My powers don't work like that. I'm not some sort of cannon."
They watched the helicopter disappear. Then they returned to what was left of the Warlord's office. The building had become strangely empty. Ellie began to sort through the documents scattered about.
"What are you looking for?" Christina said.
"This," said Ellie, holding up a piece of paper. It was the invoice from New Age Systems Control. "The place that makes the collars. The things that turn mutants into slaves."
"You want to take them down?"
"Nothing better to do. But there's no address on this."
Christina thought about it.
"Maybe I owe you one," she said.
END
Note to readers: Darkpenn recently published a novel about a female superhero (sort of). Anyone who is interested can find it on Amazon. Title is I, Viridian: Supervillain. E-copy and hard copy. Author name is Derek Parker. Book blurb is:
This is the story of Viridian: supervillain, fan of Shakespeare, owner of many sexy shoes, carefree and irresponsible at the competitive level, bearer of a mystical gem that gives her incredible powers.
Raised by thieves to be a thief, she was never really a child, or never grew up, she doesn't know which. When she washes up on the shores of Oklahoma City, pursued by shadowy forces and an unknown enemy, she links up with an oddball gang of would-be supercriminals: mastermind Monk, samurai Tantō, strongman Cave, and the remarkable Flux.
And through them she discovers what it is she is looking for: a reason to fight, a reason to stay, a reason to care, and, most of all, a reason to love.