Kingpin of the World
Prologue
Gathering the League
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story.
AN: Sorry about taking so long to get this out. Originally I was going to write one big prologue, but I decided that the pacing would wind up being horrible and so I gradually broke it up until smaller chapters. I'll try to crank this story out a bit faster than I did Dreams of the Damned. Oh, this is a direct sequel to Dreams of the Damned, so if you haven't read that one yet, you might want to go do so.
"How the bloody hell do they expect me to recruit some of these people," James Bond grumbled, leafing through the files on the new League he had in his hands. "The ex-FBI agent shouldn't be too hard, nor should the hero or the vigilante, but these others…the private eye, pyrokinetic, and the man with experience will be difficult." He paused and held one folder, shaking his head and muttering a curse to himself. "Why would a demon goddess help us?"
"Sir, would you like some peanuts," a pretty stewardess asked. Bond was too absorbed in the paperwork to notice that she'd spoken, and after a moment, the stewardess moved on. Bond went over the mission in his head again and again, refusing to believe that the only goal this League had was merely to find out just what had happened to the original League. The members of this League were far too powerful for just that.
"Let's see…I should concentrate on the first member I'm to be recruiting right now, and focus on the others as we go along. That makes sense."
"This is your captain speaking," came the rather dusky voice of the captain over the airline's speaker. "If anyone is carrying any objects that are from Transylvania, we'll have to ask you to deposit them at baggage claim." Bond sighed heavily, his attention finally being drawn away from his paperwork with the mere mentioning of the word Transylvania. He knew why they were insisting on the deposit. Nobody wanted to be caught carrying anything from Transylvania thanks to Dracula unleashing his plague of zombies on the town. The Coalition had effectively quarantined the entire town by putting a large Plasteel dome over it, but it was too late for anyone in the town to have survived. The League had barely managed to get out with their lives, and since then, they'd dedicated them to finding a cure for whatever it was Dracula had used to cause the zombification.
'No' Bond thought to himself. 'Not the entire League.' Alex Corvis had been killed while fighting Dracula, and Indiana Jones and Bob's First Mate, Brody, had been caught inside. The remaining League, when they were given a headquarters, told Bond that Brody was safely sealed inside The Sword, and could last out for quite a while. They had then reported that Indiana Jones had chosen not to join Brody in The Sword, instead dieing a warrior, shooting and whipping voracious undead until the very end.
They all knew what that meant. Somewhere inside that dome, Indiana Jones, now dead and brought back with only the most basic brain functions, was prowling around Transylvania, looking for food that he would never find. They had all been dead set on finding a cure, refusing to take any more missions until they had done so.
Which is what lead to the League going missing. The last he'd heard, they were going to check out word of a cure in a supposedly "safe" and "secret" location. They hadn't returned, and that was (supposedly) why a new League was being recruited. With another heavy sigh, he turned his eyes back to the files, the first one on the pile. This was the first member he would recruit. "Oh, just my bloody luck," he grumbled, opening the file on The Mask and beginning to read.
"I can't believe they want me to recruit this psychotic," Bond grumbled, stepping out of his rented limousine. Police Lt. Kellaway, or former Police Lt. Kellaway, was a seemingly normal man as he stepped out of his local convenience store. He didn't stand out too much, wore regular clothing, and ate regular food. He didn't drink blood, turn into a giant green monster when he got angry, or command an enormous ship with high technology. The only thing odd about him was the little duffel bag he carried with him at all times. Anyone who hadn't read this man's file would have no idea what was in it, but Bond knew. Inside that duffel bag was an ancient mask, it was assumed of Aztec origin, which was cursed. When anyone wore it, it would bring out the good intentions in each of them, and then turn them into the worst things imaginable. The mask had started off in the hands of rather bookish Stanley Ipkiss, who used the mask to get revenge on anyone he felt wronged him. After a scuffle with his girlfriend, who had had enough of Stanley's murderous ways, he was kicked out of her apartment, the mask staying with her. He broke in; put the mask on again, and as the psychotic killer "Big Head" took out about a quarter of the entire police force. Lt. Kellaway was one of the detectives that managed to survive the encounter, and he went on to investigate the case. Meanwhile, Ipkiss went to his own hotel room, having had enough punishment for one night. He removed the mask, completely unaware of his ex-girlfriend hiding behind the bed. She put the mask on, leapt up, and shot Stanley dead. The odd thing about this?
She didn't own a gun, and hadn't brought one with her. Thus revealing the qualities that the Coalition sought from Lt. Kellaway.
After Stanley's girlfriend had killed him, she had the good sense to take it to Lt. Kellaway. She warned him never to put it on, though was very vague in that warning. Later that night, Lt. Kellaway decided that having the mask around scared her, given that it had belonged to Stanley, so he put it on. He became "Big Head" but with one difference: This time, Big Head was a vigilante that made every attempt to clean up the town. He proved yet more superpowers that the mask granted during this nighttime life. Ignorance to pain, nigh invulnerability, immortality, and the ability to take a great deal of punishment with no consequence, so long as the mask is removed before it amounts to something too great. Once it has been taken off, it can be put back on and none of the damage that had been done previously would remain. In the end, Big Head helped Lt. Kellaway discover the corrupt Assistant District Attorney Steven Listor's plan, and foil it. However, the police force still thought Big Head was the same man, so he then had to fight the police. After almost murdering his partner and best friend, Lt. Kellaway was able to regain control of himself just long enough to flee the scene. He later buried the mask in his basement.
Later, the mob came to hit the now unemployed former detective. He raced for the mask, and had almost reached it, but in the end he took three .38 slugs in the back just before reaching it. The mob got the mask next, and they didn't put it to too much good use. Stanley's ex-girlfriend, Kathy, retrieved it and tried to use it in the same manner as Lt. Kellaway. In the end, that too failed, and the mask was thought lost to the tides.
Until a teenage, angry, fanatical Big Head fan found it. He used it to wreak comical havoc on the town, until he nearly killed a little boy during a fight with the enormous hitman Walter. Retreating to the confines of his apartment, he took the mask off and threw it down, only to have it picked up by his friend Ben. Ben used it to become a rock star, but the mask took control of him and forced him to do lounge until he was attacked. He wreaked comical havoc in the ensuing fight, escaped, and subsequently came to the same realization that his friend Rick had. He removed the mask, and it found its way into the hands of Ben's stoner friend Hugo. He saw the world in a very psychedelic manner, and didn't like it. He managed to take it off, and finally, it reached the hands of the "nerd" of the group, Archie. He intended to use the mask to become a super-hero, with the usual unsuccessful results. After that, the mask found its way back into Lt. Kellaway's hands, who had been using it for vigilantism ever since.
This is why Lt. Kellaway carried his duffel bag now. Because he knew that if anything happened and Big Head was needed, he could slap on the mask and Big Head would be there, in his biker's jacket, yellow and black striped tie, white muscle shirt, baggy golf pants, and combat boots. This wasn't a striking figure for a hero, but then again, Big Head was nowhere near a hero.
With a deep breath and the phantom of a prayer, Bond moved towards Kellaway. Kellaway spotted him instantly, the sign of a good cop, and he began to reach towards his duffel bag. "Mr. Kellaway," Bond stated, his heavy British accent stopping Kellaway for a moment, but only a moment. "Please, there's no need for that." He removed a badge that had been provided by the Coalition to identify him. After gazing at the credentials for a few moments, Kellaway nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Alright, start talking." Kellaway's voice was deep and insightful with an edge of sarcasm underlying it at all times. "Wait, wait, does this have anything to do with that zombie flick turned reality going down in Transylvania?"
"It does, in a very roundabout way," Bond explained, sighing. "You may have heard the rumors-"
"I know Dracula did it," Kellaway replied. "This about the League?"
"…You are very well connected, Mr. Kellaway."
"Can't get anywhere in this world without 'em," Kellaway replied. "So, what's up? They need a liaison here?"
"No…they've gone missing." Kellaway tripped in his step, choked on the bagel he was eating, and almost dropped his duffel bag. "I'm here to recruit you for a League whose purpose is to investigate their disappearance."
"Really," Kellaway asked, sounding skeptical.
"You saw the badge," Bond returned. He liked this Kellaway, never fancying things up, just getting right to business.
"Guess so. Alright, I'm in."
"That quickly? You haven't even heard my offer."
"Got the whole shpiel planned out, huh," Kellaway asked, sounding amused. "Alright, go ahead."
"Thank you," Bond replied, grinning. Yes, he decided, this Kellaway was okay. "We're prepared to offer Big Head amnesty, and the ability to continue his vigilante activities, by taking a position on the League when they are found."
"Well," Kellaway stated, sticking out his hand, "now you've got both of us on your team."
"Plush limo," Kellaway stated, settling into a seat in the spacious limo.
"Thank you," Bond stated, laughing before he added, "It's rented."
"Figures. Government never gets their hands dirty when it comes to the comfort of their employees," Kellaway replied, smirking sarcastically. "So, which government do you work for, anyway, Mr…."
"Bond. James Bond." He laughed and added, "I work for both. There's a secret coalition consisting of both British and US government officials and agents. We assembled the first League."
"Not the first League," Kellaway asked, raising his eyebrow.
"Well, no, not the very first League. That was formed in 1899. The last member of that League, Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker, was killed during the last League's mission."
"Gotcha. So, who else are we getting?"
"Next up is a hero that resides near here. I'm sure you know who I'm speaking of."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Spider-Man," Kellaway stated, smirking.
"Then you'd be right," Bond stated. "Oh, that's right, I forgot to mention this to you. We'll be meeting him when he isn't in costume. Therefore, you and everyone else recruited into the League will know his true identity. Should any of you attempt to hold this information against him in any way, we have ways of making you disappear that you will not like."
"Chucking us into the Transylvania Dome?"
"Again, a good guess," Bond explained. "Though I don't think any of you will need that warning."
"I won't. Being a man with my own secret identity, I respect that kinda thing in other people," Kellaway replied, grinning. "After all, you're the only one that knows I'm Big Head." Bond started to say something, but Kellaway waved his hand. "Well, you and your bosses, anyway." Bond grinned and glanced out the window.
"Ah, we're here." The two clambered out of the limousine and gazed up at the apartment building. "We'll be taking the elevator."
"So, let's just go over this real quick," Kellaway stated, stepping out of the elevator. "He's barely outta high school, and he's a superhero."
"Yes," Bond replied. "His name is Peter Parker, and he is a freelance photographer catering towards the Daily Bugle. He fought and killed the Green Goblin, Norman Osborn-"
"Norman Osborn?!"
"Yes, that was the Green Goblin. That's irrelevant, as are the two villains he's fought since. He has a girlfriend, Felicia Harding, and his old crush, Mary Jane Watson, is jealous."
"You're just telling me this to prove how deep this Coalition can go, right," Kellaway asked.
"Another good guess," Bond replied, smirking. "Now, do you want to knock, or should I?" The door swung open, revealing Peter Parker.
"You two talk loud enough to wake the dead," he groaned, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Looks like we did," Kellaway joked.
"So you two are from the Coalition," Peter asked sleepily.
"You know about us," Bond asked.
"They contacted me about joining the original League, but when Robin worked his way in, they said they didn't need me."
"Resentful," Kellaway asked.
"Nope," Peter responded. "Given what happened to Transylvania, I'm actually pretty thankful."
"Good point." Kellaway laughed and said, "Well, you're not so lucky this time. Get your stuff, we're leaving."
"So soon," Peter asked.
"Time is of the essence and all that," Kellaway replied, turning and leaving.
"That's the way I like it," Peter replied, grinning and removing his shirt, revealing his costume. He yanked off his shoes and pants, pulled on his mask, and followed Kellaway out the door. Bond laughed, shook his head, and followed, thinking about how enthusiastic these two were as compared to the original League. The next stop: Washington D.C.
"Listen, guys," Peter stated, still debating over whether he should even bother to wear his costume at the moment. "I need to make a stop before we get to the airport."
"Awww, does wittle Petey haveta tell his wittle girlfriend where he's goin'," Kellaway teased, and then snorted. "C'mon man, what're you, whipped?"
"Yes," Peter responded. "Yes, I am."
"…I've never seen a guy with the balls to admit that he's whipped before," Kellaway mused. Bond let out a sarcastic chuckle at that.
"Mr. Parker, we really don't have time for you to make a stop just to tell Ms. Harding that you'll be out of town for an undetermined amount of time. If you'd like, I could call her, or you could call her, but we will not be making a detour merely because you are 'whipped.'"
"Look, Mr. Bond, I need to talk to her. Before I go, I need to tell her where I'm going."
"Under no circumstances are you permitted to do so, Mr. Parker."
"Bond, she's not just some rich civilian," Peter growled.
"Really now," Bond replied, sounding as if he didn't believe a word Peter was saying.
"She's the Black Cat," Peter muttered through clenched teeth.
"We know, Mr. Parker. She'll be out of town sometime soon herself, working on getting an artifact of some power for us."
"…What," Peter asked, astounded. Kellaway watched on, interested all of a sudden, letting his hand hang out the window.
"All those out of town trips she takes," Bond explained, "are really for us. We pay her well; she gets us what we want. This artifact is of terrible importance, so she will more than likely be looking for a while. We last heard that it was in Cairo. Ask no more of this."
"No, I want to know how long she's been doing this," Peter shot back.
"For quite a while. Do you remember how she met you?"
"…Yes." Peter was suddenly fearful of where this was going. "She was assigned to stake me out and study me, wasn't she?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Parker," was all Bond said. Peter pulled his mask back on, slumping in his seat. Kellaway gave Bond a cold glare before returning to gazing out the window.