BLACK WINGS Chapter 19 - Imitation by Justin Anderson
Wednesday, January 8th, 2003. 9:12 PM, Washington, D.C. Gunfire penetrated the security desk. The guard lay dead. His attacker grabbed the keys to the locked door, taking the shape of the man he'd murdered. Opening the steel security door, he found the filing cabinet he was looking for. "Oh my GOD!" Another guard stood by the door, unable to draw his own weapon in shock. He was quickly taken out by Tec-9 fire. The intruder found the files he wanted. Thursday, January 9th. 1:04 PM, Arizona. Cletus ignored the phone, until the ringing finally got on his nerves. He jerked the cord out, pleased with the silence. Picking up the box, he ripped it open. The plastic building blocks spilled on the table. 5:11 PM General Peterson opened the door. He found Cletus hovering over a scale model of Times Square made of plastic bricks. He was adding more pieces to it, working on completing one of the buildings. "I see you found a hobby," Peterson commented. Cletus looked up. "Yeah, thought I could use a break. I hit a bunch of toy stores, bought as many of these as I could, just started building. Took me only three days. See the calendar?" he asked, pointing to the object in question. "Yes," Peterson replied. "Bush got it for me, for Christmas," Cletus said. "The man makes two hundred thousand a year, and he gets me a calendar. I practically save the world, and the man buys a calendar. He has his head up his ass, if you ask me." "Right. Regardless, I may have a job for you. A bank in D.C. was hit last night. Only thing stolen was a single employee file. We have no idea who broke in, but he was armed. Rather well," General Peterson explained. "What was he using?" Cletus asked. "Tec-9 machine pistol. Not the newest model, but still deadly. We also have no idea who did this, if it was even a man. Whoever did this seemed to change their shape, judging by security footage." "Okay... hmm. Shape changer. Doesn't leave the list open, does it?" he replied. "Mystique, she hung out with Magneto. Complete shape shifter... not her. Besides, I doubt Magneto would get her to do something like this, he knows I'd come after him, and it'd make helping me completely useless. Doubt she'd do it on her own, especially with a Tec-9. Mysterio... I heard that Quentin Beck is dead, but someone else may have the suit now. But he uses holographic trickery, he doesn't morph." "Which leaves?" General Peterson asked. "Which leaves," Cletus said, "a short list... I'm heading to Manhattan. And... donate all this to kids or something, I'm done with it." 9:32 PM, Manhattan Cletus found Spider-Man rather quickly. He touched down on the ledge. "Where's the Chameleon?" he asked. "Why?" Parker replied. "He may have hit a bank in D.C. last night, killed a few, took a file with him. We know it's a shape changer." "But... no. He's dead. He jumped off the bridge, never saw him again," Parker said. "Crap. Leaves me nothing. Hmm... maybe not. What was his name? You know? I can always check places he was known to stay." 9:42 PM, Washington, D.C. "I'm impressed," the man said. "Got what I was after, and the cops have no idea what they're lookin' for." "You expected less? Where is my money, Mr. Jackson?" "Right here," he said, pushing the briefcase to him. He checked the money, pleased to see it was all there. "Excellent," he said. "I assume your other offer is still valid?" 10:37 PM, Manhattan Dmitri Smerdyakov relaxed in his living room. He contemplated what he should do next. Take another job? Or perhaps it was time to kill Spider-Man? His jobs recently had paid well, and no one even knew he was alive. Especially not Spider-Man. He felt the gun press to the back of his head. "Hello, Chameleon. You really messed up on that last job, now I'm gonna have to kill you," Cletus said. "Before you do, may I at least know who you are?" he asked. "All right. Stand slowly, turn slowly. You make even one wrong move, and I'll shoot you." Dmitri slowly stood, turning to see the Black Wings. "Hmm. So, the rumors were true, you did reform. It looks as if Electro was not lying." "Where's the file?" Cletus asked. "What file?" Chameleon replied. Cletus shouted, "you know! The one you took last night!" "I can assure you, I took nothing last night," he said. Cletus kept his gun trained. "A shape shifter broke into a D.C. bank, killed guards, took a single employee file folder." "Is that so?" Dmitri asked. "You're the whole of the suspect list right now." "Perhaps not," the Chameleon replied. "I've heard rumors lately. And, I assume you have ruled out the mutant, Mystique. I wonder if these rumors are true, after all." "What rumors...?" 10:39 PM, Washington, D.C. A man in thin black clothing stepped up to the admittance desk. His skin was solid white, a fact lost on the receptionist as she was gunned down. He immediately took her form, body and clothing. 10:40 PM, Manhattan "What do you MEAN, another Chameleon?" Cletus asked. "I mean," he replied, "someone else calling himself the Chameleon. A shape changer. More advanced than what I do. I've heard he's an experiment. He physically changes form. I first heard of this individual several months ago while taking a job. He occasionally takes jobs such as I do, often asking for more payment, and is much harder to contact. Assuming he is even real!" "Okay," Cletus said. "I'm, gonna make a call. You stay there, I'll be watching." He picked up the phone, dialing. "Yes, Peterson. Now." He waited. "Yes, I believe I have- WHAT? NOW? Manhattan, why? SHIT! All right..." he said, hanging up. "Our mystery thief is hitting a hospital in D.C. right now. Looks like you're cleared. But you'd better not leave. I will be back, to ask more questions. You leave, I'll get an army to track you down." Friday, January 10th. 8:11 PM, Washington, D.C. Mr. Jackson waited for his guest. The man entered, pale white skin and a thin black suit. "I hope you retrieved the files I asked for?" The man threw them on the table. "My money!" he said. The briefcase was slid to him. he checked it. "This is only half," he said. "Yes, I will have you the rest by tomorrow." "Omnitech needs this money now," he replied, drawing and firing. He pushed the body out of sight, taking Mr. Jackson's form as thugs entered the kitchen. "No big deal. He screwed up. Get outta here!" he said. They left. He drew a device from his jacket pocket, tossing it into the next room. Leaving through the kitchen door, he resumed his true shape, pressing the remote. The back half of the large house went up in flames. 9:06 PM, Manhattan Cletus crawled in through the window. The Chameleon was waiting for him. He was holding a rubber face mask. "It's you. I thought I'd spend the day creating since you told me not to leave," he said. "Shall I try it on?" "No. House in DC was blown apart last night. Louis Jackson, known ties to organized crime. His thugs said he was visited by a man with white skin. They heard gunshots, checked, Jackson was alive, the other guy dead." "And let me guess," Chameleon said, "his body was found, the other man missing, correct? I'd say it sounds clichéd, but when is it a cliché if it is happening to you?" "How do I know he's not working with you? Maybe for you?" Cletus asked. "If he was, I would have had him deal with you and Spider-Man long ago. What did he steal from the hospital?" Chameleon asked. "Two patient files." Chameleon replied, "interesting, he knows what to go in for, and only goes for that particular item. Perhaps I can be of use to you." "How?" Cletus asked. "Simple. I may be able to contact him. Hire him. Set him up," Dmitri explained. "Set him up? Or set us up?" "You may have to trust me. After all, you will no doubt kill me if I do not cooperate. You are no Spider-Man." Monday, January 13th. 7:14 PM The white skinned man entered the front doors. His host greeted him, an older man. "It was difficult finding you, but you arrived. I am prepared to pay your price, double if you can get me what I require by midnight." "Interesting offer. Agreed!" he said. "First, I wish to ask a few questions about you. Merely to ensure my money will be well spent, of course," the old man said. "Of course." He asked, "how do you change your shape like that? I've never heard of anything like it!" "Nanotechnology," he replied. "My suit is made of the same material, it behaves as my body does. A gift from my employers. I've answered enough questions. What is your task?" he asked. "The hall of records. I want everything you can obtain on a nephew of mine... may I at least as your name?" "The Chameleon," he said. "Hmm... I thought the Chameleon was someone else?" Dmitri asked. "It was," he replied, "but that man is dead. And he is obsolete." 8:27 PM He entered the building. No guard at the desk. He shot out the security cameras, regardless. The gun cocked behind him. He spun, ducking and firing. The Black Wings missed hitting him. This new Chameleon was fast. Machine gun fire bounced off his coat. The Chameleon ducked through a door. Heading down the hall, he found the records room. He heard a gun behind him. The old man was waiting. "Do I look obsolete to you?" Dmitri asked, pulling off the mask. "So, you live. Still a man in a mask. A shame, with all your experience, you still do not matter!" "An imitation is never as good as the real thing. Only one of us is leaving alive." The Black Wings searched the building. Checking each room, he was unprepared for the explosion which sent the door falling on him. Staggering, he spotted someone. Charred, his true form visible under the burns and cuts. He collapsed. Cletus checked him. Dead. He searched the room, finding no one. "Chameleon?" he shouted. 8:43 PM The body was taken out of the building. The room still smoldered, book cases and filing cabinets toppled. If Dmitri Smerdyakov was under the rubble, it would be a while before they could retrieve the body. One of the paramedic held a card up to him. "I retrieved this from the room after the blast." The Chameleon walked out, wearing a perfect disguise. Cletus let him go. Tuesday, January 14th. Washington, D.C., 1:30 PM "We have a possible ID on the body," General Peterson said. "Johann Vladicov, former German spy. Until whoever it was did this to him. Each cell in his body is bonded with a small machine, tiny objects. His suit was made of the same material." Cletus handed him the card. "We know who did this. Who he worked for..." Charred, but readable, the Omnitech Laboratories business card told them what they needed to know. 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.