BLACK WINGS Chapter 3- Desert Sting by Justin Anderson Friday, July 5th, 2002. 8:11 AM, Washington, D.C. General Peterson straightened his uniform, polishing each medal and every other piece of metal pinned to his suit. The wedding was still hours off, but he had nothing better to do. Bush had complained about his day off, of course. Frankly, he regretted not telling him off, even if he was the President. Let Colin Powell handle things. General Robert Peterson was also convinced the supposed war on terrorism didn't even demand his attention anymore. He was already convinced the basis of society was crumbling beyond repair. Nothing he could do would change that, best to just let it happen and pick up the pieces as they fall. He had seen it for the past three decades, and each year it only got worse. Of course, he never really told anyone. Best just to come out as far on top of this mess as possible. Let the masses run around and do as they will. 12:14 AM, Arizona desert. He liked having the motorcycle back. His only reliable means of transportation, aside from government arranged flights, and he never learned how to drive. The basics were no real problem, after all, even with Jacobs's men operating the bus by remote, he still had to steer. Though in a way, he regretted learning to ride a motorcycle over proper automobile operation. But he traveled alone. He had promised to be at Jack's wedding. Still hours off, but the drive to the airport would still take at least an hour. He'd never hear the end of it if he didn't show up. 'What the...?' he thought, watching the action up the road. Semis toppling over about a quarter mile ahead. He came to a stop, watching. Three trailers, one on its side, the other being pushed back on its wheels. There is one constant about a typical wreck. It's that a toppled vehicle never rights itself while sitting still. He was probably the only law enforcement in the area, even if no one would believe him. Besides, he knew the situation was off. Someone had deliberately caused this wreck, and at the very least, he wanted to know why. He left the bike about halfway, running to the scene of the accident. He could hear someone tearing into the trailers. The drivers were most likely dead by now, no point in playing this safely. He drew a Desert Eagle from his coat. Whoever was here had already ripped into all the trailers. Cletus inspected one. Crates full of weaponry opened and rooted through already. He could hear the rummaging going on inside another. Quietly, he checked. "I know I'm in the desert, but this is ridiculous..." he said, causing his target to look up. "Aren't you a little out of your territory Gargan? Even if this IS Arizona... couldn't find any rocks to crawl under?" The Scorpion ignored the jokes. "Electro was right. You are a joke!" His tail swung, barely missing Cletus. Gargan was quick. He hadn't anticipated the tail being so fast. The blade had barely taken his arm off. Firing, each shot missed. The Scorpion had torn through the roof and was gone by the time he'd aimed. He dodged again stepping out of the trailer. The acid ate through the steel quickly, he didn't want to think of what it would do to him. "Get outta here, Kasady! This is none of your business!" "I don't even care why you're out here," he replied. "I think I'll just kill you and be done with it!" Cletus barely dodged the tail. The Scorpion had an advantage over him with it. Cletus would simply have to even the odds. He drew the Ingram, firing. He didn't bother to aim, he just waved it around as he shot. He checked the damage. Bullet holes through the side of one trailer like a hole punch. But no body. The acid landed at his feet. Gargan had taken to a roof before the bullets had rained. He'd had enough of this. He spotted a large rock along the roadside. At least four hundred pounds, by the size. He jumped for it. Lifting it, he chucked it at Gargan. He jumped, but the rock slammed his tail. The Scorpion tried to fire his acid again, but without success. The mechanism was damaged. Still, he could move the tail, and the blade would be more than enough. But not here. Gargan wanted him in the open. Away from here. All he had to do was run, he knew Kasady would follow. He shouted, "You ain't the Black Wings, are ya? Yer outta your league, little man!" It was enough. Cletus gave chase. The Scorpion kept a good pace, but staying close enough for encouragement. He let Cletus catch up, dodging bullets like raindrops while he kept a steady pace. He knew he would be tackled, the taunt would guarantee it. This was Cletus Kasady, after all. Reformed or not, Gargan expected him to stick to old habits and use his fists, especially when provoked. And especially if he couldn't shoot Gargan. He spun, the tail swinging. The blade sliced Kasady across the forehead. Blood poured from the cut. "HA! I thought you were simple-minded, Kasady! Even as Carnage you were predictable!" "Yeah? You never did any better against Spider-Man, in fact, you did worse!" he shouted, firing. Gargan dodged. the blood was in Kasady's eyes, he couldn't see. The tail flattened him, sending him to the ground. By the time he stood and wiped the blood from his face, the Scorpion was gone. A truck had pulled up to the wreckage, men loading the goods. Gargan jumped in the back of the truck before it sped off. Cletus fired, pointlessly. The truck was gone. No way he could catch up on his bike. He fired the remainder of the Ingram's clip into the air. He had lost. 5:11 PM, Washington, D.C. "...I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I can not get out of this wedding. I'm one of only two guests invited," General Peterson explained. "Robert, I understand that, but this is the safety of the country we're talking about, and you're one of my top men. I need you at the conference tonight," President Bush replied. He rubbed his eyes. "Why? For my advice or so I can do the job myself? Between me and Powell, we ARE the anti-terrorism committee. But face it, we're not accomplishing a thing! We're eating soup with a fork." The President said, "I understand your frustration, but-" General Peterson left the Oval Office, unwilling to discuss this further. 9:14 PM, Manhattan Cletus was glad the cut had healed in time for the wedding ceremony. He didn't want to explain to Jack what he was doing bandaged up. The ceremony had been small, Jack, Shriek, himself and General Peterson, and the judge to perform the ceremony. Not much talk afterwards, understandably. And aside from their desire to be alone, Cletus had business he had to take care of. "Any idea why the Scorpion would be robbing trucks in the middle of Arizona? Or who he'd be working for?" he asked. General Peterson looked puzzled. "Depends. What trucks do you mean? We had three robbed earlier today in Arizona, eastbound... drivers killed. You know something?" "Possibly. The Scorpion hit those trucks, tore them open. I was about a quarter mile behind them when it happened. Got into it with him, he lured me away long enough for another truck to pull up and grab stuff, then he ran off with them after he tried to scalp me with his tail," he replied. "This is just great," Peterson said. "How did he even know where the trucks would be, let alone what they were carrying? And the bad part is, as soon as I mention the Scorpion, Bush will put it on the 'maybe' pile because it wasn't a terrorist hit." "It gets worse. He moves like lightning, I couldn't hit the bastard with an Ingram. His tail is a nightmare, he could've killed me if I'd been mortal. He's also completely nuts, and he has allies. The terrorists are not THIS organized, either... and I doubt the Scorpion would even work for them, he'd work for someone he could trust. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on Jameson, too. Gargan's wanted his head for a long time. I need to get in touch with Spider-Man about this, he may be able to help me on this," Cletus said. "One more thing," Cletus continued. "He seemed to know I'm the Black Wings." "That's even worse. We may have a leak somewhere, he may even know you're working for us. But I have no clue. I can try the usual list, Fisk, Osborn, Von Doom, but that'll most likely turn up nothing." General Peterson was not going to have a good day tomorrow. Notes: Set within the Marvel universe, I will be using my own continuity, mixed with new characterizations for some established characters from Marvel's story universe. These stories are a sequel to my fiction series Maximum Carnage. Cletus Kasady, Carnage, and others are copyright Marvel Comics. Jack Arden, Raicaak, and others are copyright myself. Other characters appearing may be owned by separate parties. I make no claim of copyright on any character I do not own, only on these stories and those I do own. Characters used without permission/not for profit. These are strictly fan stories. Permission to reprint extends to placing this text, unaltered, elsewhere online. It may not be altered, and especially NOT TO BE SOLD, unless Marvel wishes to license this series from me. Black Wings song and lyrics copyright Tom Waits.
