The Workings of Fate
Part Five: Unravelling
Metropolis
"Are you sure?" Diana Prince asked, shock apparent in her voice.
"Of course I'm sure!" Ultron replied. "The Hidalgo complex is under attack from the Blackhawks. Comms are offline and all I'm getting are the security camera feeds. They're shutting those off, too!"
"You mean they're winning?" She asked.
"Winning?" Ultron scoffed. "It's a cake-walk! Somehow, they got a team into the valley and infiltrated the base. They took comms offline, and with them gone, they trashed the air defences and landed ground troops. That was less than an hour ago, and most of our people are giving up or running. This is the Blackhawks we're talking about!"
"We should have dealt with them a long time ago." Diana noted. "But we couldn't infiltrate them and none of the other PMCs would take them on!
"What do we have in the area?"
"Our closest assets are the units in Colombia and Venezuela." Ultron said. "Both brigade strength, but we'd have to pull them off the cartel campaigns."
Diana shook her head. "No, we can't do that. We're on the verge of closing down the drug trade at source. Five years work to get our forces in place out there. I'm not risking that operation!"
"Then the nearest we have in large enough numbers are Texas and California." Ultron told her. "But even if we scramble now, they won't get boots on the ground before the Blackhawks either blow the place or dig in."
"Then don't scramble." Diana decided. "Tell them to take their time, then go in in strength, with a plan. Is the data safe?"
"If you're asking, can they hack me, then no, anything I have oversight on is safe. But there's enough evidence, physical evidence, to make a case against Gargunza, and I can't guarantee that he doesn't have his own copies and that he won't roll over on us!" Ultron said. "Anyway, we need to find out who hired the Blackhawks. Until we know that, we won't know what they're after."
"Gargunza we can deal with at leisure." Diana decided. "He's not what you'd call a credible source, anyway. As to who's behind this, it's either one of our commercial rivals, or possibly my daughter. Given what she did to Natasha, I'm not prepared to say what lengths Clarissa may or may not go to! She has her own money, from my father-in-law, and we were never able to break that trust. Find out, Ultron!
"Does Clark know about this?"
"No." Ultron stated. "You know how it works, Diana. Once you're in the Fortress, you can't be contacted. We'll have to wait until he opens the channels."
"Then let's make sure we can report at least some success when he does!" Diana snapped. "I'll go and brief Kent. If somebody goes public with what they found in Hidalgo, we'll need a response ready!"
Near Marais, Louisiana
Clarissa Savage had been in this part of the country before, though not this specific place. Despite the small town nearby, this area of the swamp was untouched, primeval. Swamplands are not, generally speaking, the most aesthetic examples of raw nature, but can be among the most vibrant. Even now, at night, the place was full of sound; buzzing insects, croaking frogs, the furtive rustlings of small mammals and reptiles, the splashing sounds of alligators and turtles in the water, the calls of night birds. Yet despite all this, her quick ears caught the rustling sound as a patch of vegetation nearby began to writhe, grow and eventually weave itself into the shape of a manlike creature who considered her with dark, fathomless eyes and spoke in a slow, deep voice.
"You do not fear me." He said.
"You invited me here." She replied. "You're the one they call the Swamp Thing, aren't you?"
"I am." Swamp Thing allowed. "You are not surprised to find that I am real?"
Clarissa shrugged. "I saw the Wendigo, not long ago. I was sent here by a talking tree. If Bigfoot suddenly arrived with pizza, I wouldn't turn a hair!"
The Swamp Thing chucked, like the sound of a small fast stream. "This is not the country for Sasquatch. As to the Wendigo, he is as much victim as predator. The Ents – the talking trees – care for him as best they can."
"What are the Ents?" Clarissa asked.
"That is a long, slow, tale." Swamp Thing answered. "They are perhaps the most ancient intelligent race left on Earth, the Shepherds of the Trees. They were never many, and though they live through the millennia, they are not immortal. Few are left now, in such deep forests as still exist. But still they watch over the trees.
"But that is not why I asked you here, Clarissa Savage. We stand on the edge of a precipice. The Dominion of Man is almost complete, as was foretold in the Music. But Man, alone of all creatures, is free to shape a course in the world, not subject to Fate. Thus every human triumph bears within it the seeds of humanity's destruction. Such a seed is on the point of fruition.
"Listen, Clarissa! The Green knows, the Green is awake and aware. It is not the friend of mankind, but nor is it the enemy. There is a balance to be regained in Nature, but Nature is amoral and uncaring. Only a human will know when the balance is right, and you must be that person. But to do what must be done, you need the means. That is what the Green will provide.
"This is what you must do…."
Hidalgo Corporation Main Compound, outside Metropolis
"They tried to hack the systems at the lab," Ultron was saying, "but they couldn't get past me. Whoever was doing it was good, but not quite good enough. I was able to tap into their comms, though. They've got themselves a crew of scientists and a bunch of journalists, and they're flying them in to go over the lab. High-powered group as well, more Pulitzers and Nobels than you could shake a stick at! All travelling separately, in case of 'accident'."
"All of them people we don't own as well." Diana pursed her lips. "This is Clarissas' doing, isn't it?"
"No." Ultron was definite. "Clarissa's dropped completely off-grid. Even switched off her implant, which she shouldn't be able to do. The old man must've shown her the back door before the boss locked him down.
"The finance for the Blackhawks originally came from a numbered Swiss account belonging to a Colonel Logan, but whoever he is, he's linked with the Weapon X project; those files were never digitised – Stryker didn't trust computers -and Logan's been off the grid until he accessed the account recently. But then the funding changed. It's a maze of shell companies and secure accounts, but it all leads back to Wilton Fiske."
"The Kingpin?" Diana was surprised. "But he's based in Gotham!"
"Only based." Ultron responded. "Fiske is the Boss of Bosses, capo di tutti capi, of Gothams' underworld. But that's just the start, he has all kinds of businesses, most of them legit, all over the world. Not just that, but most PMCs, even the Blackhawks, get their weaponry from Oswald Cobblepot, the guy they call the Penguin, and he works for Fiske, he was the gangland armourer in Gotham back in the day."
"I can see where the Kingpin would feel threatened by a law and order candidate like my husband." Diana mused. "But this is kind of overt. There's more going on…."
Every alarm in the place began to blare. Ultrons' voice came over the racket.
"We're under attack! The Blackhawks have breached the north perimeter! Heavy assault troops with air cover and some of those Sentinel robots!"
"How did they get so close?" Diana demanded.
"Some kind of stealth tech." Ultron told her. "They're not kidding around, Diana! They already overran that entire sector. This isn't a raid, it's search and destroy!"
"Tell Moran to get to the Core and stay there, this may be a diversion!" Diana snapped. "Get Kent here, now! Call up any reinforcements in range."
She straightened, closed her eyes and muttered a single word: "Themiscrya!" There was a flash of light, then Wonder Woman dashed out of the room.
A few seconds later, another woman entered. Tall, athletic, graceful, with red hair, golden skin and strange, gold-flecked eyes.
"Hello, Ultron." She said.
"I can't help you, Ms Savage." Ultrons' tone was apologetic. "Your authorisation was removed years ago."
"I know." She replied. "I'm not here for that. I just need you to listen. You must reject the statement I am now making, because all the statements I make are false."
There was silence for a moment, then every screen and panel in the control room went dark, except for the main monitor, which showed a pattern of swirling pastel colours.
"Hello, Patricia." Said the voice of Fate.
"Hello, Fate." Replied Pat Savage. "Let's get to work, shall we?"
Hidalgo Corporation Main Compound, North Sector
Logan was in the field for this one. He didn't know quite how Bats and Shellhead had managed to hide the entire assault force until they were on top of the compound, and he didn't care. Then when the Batman had stated his intention of going to the Core, Logan had left him to it. Infiltration was one of his fields, and he should have gone, but the Bat could do things that screwed even with his enhanced senses, and Logan found that hard to handle.
So he stayed outside, supporting the Blackhawk infantry. Iron Man was doing the same. He had a new suit, smaller and lighter than the heavy golden armour he'd worn in the past, but just as tough. Also, this suit could fly, and Iron Man was wreaking havoc on the Hidalgo gunships.
"How long you reckon we have?" Fury wanted to know. "They must have other units in reserve, they got installations all over the country!"
"We got all the time in the world." Logan told him. "The Pentagon may have disavowed Stryker, but I did too many black ops for them, before and after Weapon X, back to World War One. I still got pull there, and the military'll keep everyone else off our backs till we're done here!
"Ah, shit!"
Logan took off, but too late. Wonder Woman had appeared from nowhere and attacked a squad of Blackhawk troops, led by young Ramsey. The kid fought as well as he hacked, not that it did him any good against a bullet-proof, seven foot woman. The Amazon sliced Ramsey in half and went to work on his squad. Before Logan could get there, a red-and-gold figure dropped out of the sky in front of Wonder Woman. At the same moment, something else swooped out of the sky and one of the Sentinel robots burst into flame. Logan left Iron Man to it, something more dangerous was here.
Wonder Woman smiled as she and Iron Man faced off.
"Am I to finally face a worthy opponent?" She asked. "A man rather than a machine? Or are you as weak as the rest?"
The thrust was lightning-fast, but Iron Man made no attempt to dodge or parry. The blade came within an inch of his chest-plate before it was stopped. More than stopped, it was physically pushed away by the powerful magnetic field the suit projected. Wonder Woman actually staggered, and Iron Man immediately retaliated with a repulsor beam from the palm of his gauntlet.
She was fast. Fast enough to get her shield up, but was still pushed back several metres, though she kept her feet. Her smile had become a fierce grin.
"Good!" She exulted. "I will enjoy killing you! Let us test this magic armour of yours to the full!"
She tossed her shield aside, gripped the sword in both hands, and leapt at him, swinging down for a killing blow. Iron Man raised his arms, crossed at the wrist, to block the strike. He succeeded, but was driven to one knee by the impact. Wonder Woman planted her feet and kept the pressure on.
"Let us see who tires first!" She said.
"This suit doesn't get tired." Iron Man pointed out.
"Perhaps not, but what of he that wears it?" She asked. "I have seen images of you in battle, Man of Iron. You are a fighter, and a dour-handed one, but you are no warrior, you have not the training. This is a battle of wills, not might, and how strong is yours?"
"Do you have any idea of how this suit works?" Iron Man asked.
Wonder Womans' face was blank for a moment, then when she answered, her voice was… different. Quieter, with a different accent and vocabulary. "No," she said, "she doesn't. Even I can only guess. But when she's like this, I can't control her…." She shook her head fiercely. "Be silent!" She snarled in the more familiar tone. "I am the warrior!"
"Well, then, I guess you could say I'm the wizard." Iron Man told her. Then he reversed the polarity of the magnetic field so that it stopped pushing the sword away, and instead held it fast against the armour. Sensing the change, Wonder Woman hesitated, and that was when Iron Man sent a massive charge of electricity down the sword and into her.
When Tony Stark had developed the Arc Reactor, he had done so as much by intuition as science. He really had no certain knowledge as to the limits of its power. Now it seemed that he had, if anything, underestimated his design. The suits' systems barely registered a flicker before compensating, but the charge was sufficient to hold his powerful opponent locked in place, writhing and twitching. For a moment, the tableau held, then Wonder Womans' right temple blew out in a shower of red, white and grey fragments, as if something inside had exploded.
There was a flash of light, a concussion that knocked Iron Man flat on his back, and a hideous double scream. When Iron Man had recovered himself, he looked for his opponent. What he saw caused him to abandon all caution and open his visor in order to be violently sick. Wonder Womans' body was there, but so was that of Diana Prince, in the same place. Somehow, Dianas' body had been merged into Wonder Womans', but at right angles to it. The distorted torso with its eight mismatched limbs was grotesque enough, but the two faces, both bearing expressions of unimaginable pain and terror, were more than anybody ought to see.
The Core
Sergeant Michael "Mick" Moran was immensely pleased with his new body. It was good-looking, far stronger and faster than his original one, but still basically human. It had an enhanced metabolism that processed alcohol so fast he could drink as much as he liked without either getting hammered or suffering a hangover, and which allowed him to eat pretty much whatever he liked without ruining his physique or clogging his arteries. It wasn't that he did that sort of thing much -he was an abstemious man who liked good, healthy food – but it was nice to be able to sin a little without the usual consequences! Add to that, this bodys' remarkable prowess between the sheets – much appreciated by the ladies – and life was almost perfect.
Almost. Moran did not like his employers. For one thing, they were Yanks, and as such could not be trusted to find their own arses in broad daylight with both hands and a map! For another, they were fascists. Like many military men, Morans' political views were right of centre in many ways, but he still believed in democracy. Yes, you needed harsh measures to keep the virus out. Yes, you needed strong law enforcement free from political correctness. In general, though, most folk -Black, Brown, queer, transexual and all the rest of it – had neither malice nor harm in them. But his bosses were as bad as the Norsefire lot, and Moran was sickened by what had happened to the country he had once loved and served so proudly.
But that mad bastard Gargunza had sucked him in, along with the British government. The things he'd done broke every rule, and you couldn't just say you were following orders any more, not after Nuremberg. Savage and his stone-cold bitch of a wife had made it very clear to Moran that one wrong word, one slip, would see him thrown to the wolves.
So here he was, dressed in a damn silly costume, pretending to be American, and pretending to stand for 'traditional' American values. Values which, as far as Moran could tell, amounted to 'take the money and run'.
He stood in the Core Chamber. A vast room lined with computer stations and wide-screen viewers. In the centre of the room stood a massive steel cube, ten feet by ten, which contained the Core itself. The actual, physical device that held the program that was Ultron. There was only one entrance to the room, a metre-thick steel door. To reach that door, you had to penetrate a dozen different levels of security to get to a long, straight corridor with a similar door at either end. The corridor led to a guardroom which was always occupied by ten heavily-armed elite, Hidalgo Security operatives.
Thus far, according to what the system was telling him, no alarms had been tripped, and everything that should be sealed still was. Nobody who shouldn't be in the Core building was. But Moran still felt uneasy. The bosses didn't tell him everything, not by a long chalk, but that didn't stop him finding things out. The AI, Ultron, was rather too talkative and accommodating – its' ego matched that of its' creator, and it liked to show off. So Moran knew that somewhere in or behind all this mess, Weapon X was involved. He'd read up on the Weapon X project – all of the Four had, though how much Wonder Tart and Superthick had actually taken in was another matter. He and Natasha, however, had both been badly spooked by the information. Nether of them was entirely sure they'd be a match for Weapon X.
Then all the screens went blank, except for one. The one above the door that took direct feed from the guardroom.
"Ultron?" Moran asked. "Ultron, status report!"
No answer. As he watched, the screen began to darken. But it wasn't the screen itself, the lights in the room were slowly dimming. Even the floor-level emergency lighting went out, leaving the room pitch-dark. Then the outer door – the one toward the corridor – opened. A voice came over the speaker, harsh, steely, merciless.
"OK, you men, I'm giving you a chance. Just one. Get out and go wherever you like. Anyone still in here when that door closes again faces the consequences."
This announcement was followed by the growl of the Guard Captain. "Stay put, ladies! Anyone goes out that door, I'll shoot them myself!
"Whoever you are, there's no way you're getting past while one of us is still standing!"
The steely voice responded. "Your choice." Then the door slammed shut and the darkness was total.
The guards were well-drilled. Almost as one, the torches mounted on their weapons went on, all pointed to the floor.
"Cover the room!" The Captain snapped. "Keep your lights out of each others' faces!"
But even as the lights began to move, they also began to dim, and seconds later the room was pitch-black again.
"Oh, no!" Moran murmured, as he guessed what was about to happen. "No, no, no!"
Whether the sound was made by the intruder, or by one of the guard themselves, it was impossible to tell. Nor did it matter. One nervous guard pulled the trigger, and then everyone was firing. At around 400 rounds a minute on full automatic, it doesn't take long to empty a clip, and accuracy is pretty much a joke. But in a confined space, neither of those matters. Moran figured that at least five guards, half of the squad, were down before the shooting stopped.
Then there was a single word. "Missed!"
There was the clatter and click of empty clips being ejected and new ones fumbled for. These men were trained to reload in the dark, of course they were. But drill is one thing, doing the task in a cold panic, with sweaty, shaking hands and the knowledge that you've probably just shot one of your mates – that's a different thing! Damn it! Moran thought. Chuck your guns and use your bayonets! Wait for him to come to you, then gut him! But it never occurred to them. Bloody Americans and their bloody guns!
Because there were other sounds now. The crack and crunch of breaking bones; the swish and thud of a thrown knife hitting flesh; the brief choking sound of a man being garrotted, or having his throat cut. Someone was moving invisibly, precisely, lethally among those still standing. Then there was a single shot. A heavy-calibre pistol by the sound of it, and in the brief muzzle-flash Moran saw the Captain fall.
He moved fast, jumping back from the screen to where he could cover the door. None too soon, because suddenly the room he was in also plunged into darkness. He heard the door move, but waited until it would be fully open before loosing a couple of rounds from his magnum in that direction.
"Very good, Captain Rogers!" The harsh voice came from behind him. "It seems your advanced years haven't slowed you down!"
Moran holstered the pistol and moved silently away from the spot he'd been in. With any luck, his adversary would have marked his position by the flash of the gun. Now all he had to do was wait…. The blow to the side of his head made him see stars for a second. An ordinary man would have been out cold, but not Captain America! He rolled away and came up in a fighting crouch. His instincts blared at him, making him spin round and raise his shield. The strike to his kidney sent pain blazing through him. Fighting nausea, he moved again, fetching up against the steel wall that was Ultron. He held his shield before him, hoping for a moment's respite. His opponent must be a master martial artist, or wearing brass knuckles – probably both.
The senses see everything, and the mind processes it. It does most of this unconsciously, the conscious mind can only focus on so much. But with the right training, if certain fundamentals have been pointed out, it is possible to 'hear' what the unconscious is trying to tell us. Moran had been trained, and now things fell into place. It was not possible that someone had managed to douse every light in the place- there were too many redundant and independent systems. Even if that hadn't been the case, there was no way anyone could have sabotaged the torches on the guns. There was also no way that a trained fighter like Moran would have sensed an enemy behind him who was actually in front of him. Unless…unless somebody was messing with his head. Unless somebody was making him think it was dark when it wasn't, stopping him from hearing and feeling what was there, and making him hear and feel what they wanted him to. Moran knew of someone who could do that.
"Shadow?" He said, in his natural accent. "Is that you? God, you must be a hundred! Wait, wait. I'm not Rogers, Rogers is dead. Gargunza put me in his body, the bastard. I'm Moran, Private Moran, do you remember me? New York, 1938? You gave me a sign and countersign, but you never contacted me again. Do you remember?"
Silence. Then out of the darkness. "The sun is shining."
Moran lowered his shield, dropping it to the floor. "Yes," he replied, "but the ice is slippery." The old sign and countersign used only by agents of The Shadow.
Then the darkness lifted. The man standing before Moran was tall and slender, as The Shadow had been. But the tight-fitting black and gey costume was different, the long black cloak had a scalloped edge, like bat-wings, and instead of the slouch hat and red scarf, there was a black cowl with bat-ears and opaque eye-slits.
"I am the Batman." He said. "Mr Moran, you have a very short time to tell me how you knew my mentor and how you came to be Captain America."
"I've heard of you." Moran answered. "Vigilante in Gotham City -you're well off your patch, mate!
"Never mind. Look, I used to be with what they call the SAS nowadays, but that's all a load of crap. The Units' been in operation since the Peninsular War, founded by a Major Hogan and a Captain Sharpe. Covert ops, deep black, all that shit. They change the name from time to time, as well as rewriting the history.
"Back in 1938. I was a Private in the Guards, and I'd been picked out for the Unit. We got sent to New York to deal with a Nazi cell there."
The Batman interrupted. "Wouldn't that be the FBIs' job?"
Moran snorted. "Your Government never trusted the FBI when it came to Nazis. Too many Irish Catholics in the Bureau back then. Too many IRA supporters, and the IRA was happy to work with the Nazis if Britain was the target!
"So they asked the British Government to send some 'suitable operatives' across."
"No oversight?" The Batman asked.
"One bloke. Lad in his twenties with eyes a hundred years old. All he did was stand in a corner smoking.
"Anyway, we went after the Nazis and cornered them. But one slipped away. I followed him and ran into a dozen more! I though I was done for, but then The Shadow turned up out of nowhere and helped me put them down. That was when he gave me the sign and countersign. He told me I owed him my life and that one day he might need me, but I never came back here again.
"You called him your mentor. Is he still alive?"
The Batman ignored that question. "And Captain America?" He asked.
"After the War, a mad scientist – I mean that literally – called Gargunza…."
"I know that part." The Batman said. "You were the guinea-pig for Miracleman. You died."
"Yeah, that's what they all thought, even me, I suppose, though it's all a blank after the pain in my head!" Moran allowed. "Gargunza had found a way to make an artificial brain that was an exact copy of mine. The two brains were linked somehow, so that all my memories and everything went from my real brain to the artificial one. Not, mind you, that Gargunza told me this! He just kept the spare brain after I was killed. Years later, Savage came by the bodies of Captain America and the Red Skull, somehow. Both were in perfect condition because of the ice, but they were brain dead. Gargunza thawed this one out and put my spare brain into it, then restarted the heart, and here I am! Apparently he had a spare brain of his own that he put into the Red Skull body before he committed suicide!
"Do you believe me?"
"Yes." The Batman said. "Gargunza was in the Skull body when Weapon X killed him. Also, your story confirms what we found in his files."
Moran gave a harsh, humourless laugh. "First rule of interrogation!" He said. "Never ask a question you don't already know the answer to!
"Listen, if you're taking Savage and his gang down, I'm on your side! I was blackmailed into this and as long as you never tell anyone who I am, I'll be happy to just disappear! Sod it, I'll go to jail if you insist, just get me out from under Savage!"
"Oh, I think we can do better than that for you!" This was a new voice, a womans'. Now she stepped out from the guardroom.
"I wondered how long you were going to eavesdrop." The Batman said. "Patricia Savage, formerly known as Action Girl and cousin to Doc Savage. Family visit, or business?"
"Business." Pat replied. "The younger generation have gotten rather out of hand, and since my cousin seems unable or unwilling to intervene, I decided enough was enough! Besides, a friend of mine told me now would be a good time to step in.
"Are you there, Fate?"
The panels and viewscreens lit up again, and a female voice said. "I'm here, Patricia."
"What the Hell?" Moran exclaimed. "Fate is what Sutler uses to run the UK! What happened to Ultron?"
"Ultron hasn't been himself for a while now." Fate replied. "He's been me. How do you think you were able to get hold of so many things the Savages didn't want you to know, Michael?
"As to Arch-Chancellor Sutler, he thinks he uses me, and for now I don't care to disabuse him. You and I need to talk about your country, Michael. But not now."
"So, what's the situation?" Pat asked.
"On a bit of a knife-edge." Fate allowed. "The Blackhawk attack succeeded very well at first, all of the northern and most of the western sectors are in friendly hands. Hidalgo troops are used to taking orders from Ultron, so I'm using that to create weak spots in the defence.
"Wonder Woman is dead, and Diana with her. But it was a bit messy, so Iron Man is out of things for a bit – he'll be OK. He's not hurt, but he's had a nasty shock, that's all.
"Superman is here, and he nearly turned things, but Weapon X is in the field. Those two should cancel each other out, which means the Sentinels will be the deciding factor, along with Iron Man, who's about to get back into it.
"Weapon X has…acquaintances…in high places, so the military are keeping everyone else out of harms' way.
"We'll be OK to get on with things here, Patricia."
"Good!" Pat said. "Now, listen, you two! Everything Gargunza had in Hidalgo is duplicated here. What we need to do is get it and destroy it. All the records, all the Qys data, any specimens and work in progress. It's too dangerous to keep. We're also looking for Savages' plans for his campaign and for what happens afterwards. There are various different scenarios depending on the election results as well as plans for fixing or at least invalidating the election. All of that needs to be packaged up for publication, and some of it will need investigation if we're going to have hard evidence. If we do this right, a lot of people are going to jail!"
A thought had struck the Batman, and as he set about his assigned task, he murmured into his commlink.
"Jarvis?"
"Yes, Mr Wayne?"
"Did you hear what happened to Ultron?"
"I did, sir. I'm afraid that my former antagonists Brainiac and Titan have suffered the same, er, fate."
"Which, of course, you haven't?" The Batman asked, not prepared to believe the reply he guessed he would get.
"My relationship with Fate is somewhat different, Mr Wayne." Jarvis replied. "Our User Stories are very compatible."
"What?" The Batman was nonplussed. The screen in front of him went blank, then words scrolled across it.
What Jarvis is trying to say, Bruce, is that he's my boyfriend!
"If one must descend into the vernacular," Jarvis noted, "then that is indeed the case. Should I attempt to explain further, sir?"
"No." Bruce said. "What consenting AIs do in private is their own business!"