Last time:
A happenstance bungling by members of the villainous organization known as Advanced Idea Mechanics has allowed a creature to escape into the sewers of Manhattan. The alien organisms known as Hedorah consume pollution and toxic waste and are absolutely lethal to life on Earth.
Pushed out of their underground existence by the invasive smog monsters, the Morlocks have surfaced to ask for help.
The Fantastic Four have been asked to find a way to put an end to the Hedorahs' threat and find out how xenokaiju from Godzilla's universe wound up in the hands of A.I.M. in the first place.
FANTASTIC
4
CONTAMINATION
Part 2
SHIELD Facility,
Manhattan
"So you're…. mutants? Like us?"
In a sterile room that more resembled the stainless-steel furniture of a professional kitchen than an office was a long clear table, seated around one side of which, was a collection of individuals the average person might only describe as 'freakish'. Some small, some tall, some perfectly human looking, others… not so much.
"Mutants yes, but we're nothing like you." In the center of this side-show version of the Last Supper, sat the woman identified as Callisto. With a grim face textured by years of hardship, she glared back with her one eye at those assembled across the table from her and her companions.
"We're runaways, outcasts- people with no home, no one to care for them. Hated and hunted because of powers we didn't want or understand. Deformed, despised, deserted."
Directly opposite Callisto, Charles Xavier steepled his fingers against his chest, his brow furrowed disconcertedly. Beside him on the left was Steve Rogers in civilian clothes, and to his right was Victoria Hand with a small mound of paperwork in front of her. To Charles' left was Reed Richards, who likewise possessed his research materials.
Putting down his hands, Xavier cleared his throat to speak once more, "And you've been existing in the sewers all this time? Surely some of you must have heard about my institute?" Underlying the question was a tone of low-key incredulity, a hint of sadness. "We could help you."
Callisto scowled, "Indeed we have. But not all of us were blessed with powers beneath the skin." She gestured a hand palm up, needing no specific direction to give an example of her point.
"Like some others, I had retreated down below during the 90's, when the fear and paranoia of Mutantkind was at a fever pitch. It was there I met those who were not as photogenic as some of your X-Men."
One of the other Morlocks sat hunched forward, a hooded cloak obscuring all but a set of large, searching eyes under a prodigious brow. He turned and fixed Richards with a curious inspection.
"But mutant or not, humans seek community, belonging. I could pass for normal, and as such, could help those who couldn't help themselves." She pursed her lips, considering a thought. "After this long, we figured it was just easier this way."
While Reed and Victoria made hurried notes, Rogers leaned forward on the desk, "And now this… thing in the sewers has been killing your people?" He asked, looking at her with a pained sympathy.
Callisto started to speak, but a word choked in her throat and she remained quiet for several moments, averting her gaze downward. It was then the one in the hood began to speak.
"We weren't sure at first." He began in a raspy voice. "When Piper went missing, we figured he just got drunk somewhere… it's happened. But after a few days, after he should have returned, we knew something wasn't right."
"I led a search party for him…" Callisto interjected, still staring into her lap. "All we found was his pipe and his clothes covered in a filth I'd never seen before."
"That was when we first heard it… the purring." His facial features ape-like sans the hair, another man sat wringing his wool-knit cap in disproportionately large hands. "And the eyes… Those horrible red eyes watching us from the darkness."
Cranking her neck to one side, Callisto continued, "We didn't know what we were dealing with, so we collapsed the tunnel on top of it, thinking we'd kill it or trap it there." She bit her bottom lip and shook her chin. "But that wasn't enough."
Clearing her throat with a soft cough, the elderly woman seated to Callisto's left began to speak. Clinging to her side, a child-sized figure in a red cap buried its face into her dress. "In the last few days, more of us have disappeared, in different parts of the system, we realized it couldn't be just one thing doing this."
"That's when I took a few of us to try and find these things and kill them." Callisto said with a spiteful grit. "I wasn't about to let us be chased out of our home by whatever these things were. And then we found one..."
"And…?" Xavier prodded.
"And we… couldn't hurt it." Recalling the memory, her chin projected forward as she blinked a few times. "We found it resting in an old oil drum where a toxic leak from an old Roxxon plant still dripped. So I threw a Molotov cocktail at it, hoping to kill it without risking anyone getting too close."
"But burning it just made things wors-" The raspy figure in the hood was cut off by his own coughing fit before he could finish. "It filled the room with a poisonous smoke, three of us fell before we could get away."
"It came out after us, like it hadn't even felt the fire." Finally looking up to the others, Callisto was still in disbelief. I threw half a dozen knives into it, passed right through it. Sunder crushed it dead-to-rights with an old iron hydrant, but it just reformed from the splatter."
The inconspicuously large man raised his left hand, displaying what Reed could only imagine was the worst non-fatal chemical burn he'd ever seen reaching up to the elbow.
Callisto gestured to the man at the end of the table with a shock of hair standing on end and a similar eyepatch. "That was when Erg grabbed a power line and tried to zap it."
"I can channel a decent amount of electricity through my body and… just kinda, fire it out the uh..." He explained awkwardly, pointing to his uncovered left eye. "I only winged it, but it must have done something to it 'cause it took off like a bat outta hell."
"And right past me," Callisto snarled. "With a little parting gift." She raised her eyepatch and displayed the reason behind it. Her eye was rotted in its socket, the orb and the flesh around it necrotized black and shriveled.
"Jesus…" Rogers muttered.
"Yeah, he woulda been real helpful down there." She spat back as she replaced the cover. "Even if Erg does have something to chase it away, we don't know how many there are, or how many of us might die trying to hunt them down."
"We need help," Begged the grandmotherly woman. "Callisto's too proud to say it outright, but we just can't fight these things on our own. Please…"
"We'll do what we can." Rogers promised without hesitation, reaching out to take hold of the woman's hand with a light squeeze. Her face opened with a trembling gratitude.
"So, do you have any idea what these things are?" The leader of the Morlocks posed her question directly, looking between the four counterparts.
Reed nodded solemnly, "We do, actually."
A Short Time Later…
The door to the room clicked shut, leaving Rogers, Reed, Victoria, and Xavier alone.
"I have a place to house them, if no-one objects." Hand offered.
"I'd prefer to take them to Westchester," Charles began. "But we don't have the accommodations ready for that many people at the moment. Give me few days Ms. Hand, and the X-Men will give these people the home they deserve."
"I'm sure the Director will be pleased," She returned. "Once I inform him of the unknown population of homeless mutants living under a major metropolitan city." The last words ending with a sigh of unwelcome expectations.
"Richards, you say these things can be harmed with electricity?" Steve asked, shifting his attention to the problem at hand. "That strange fella seems to support the idea."
Reed nodded, "The JSDF records say they used about three-million volts on the one that appeared in 1971. They don't list the amperage used, but considering the size of the creature, it possibly required over five-million milliamps."
Xavier raised an eyebrow, "That's an incredible amount of power."
"Even then, the Hedorah was able to react fast enough to protect itself by using the dried-out husk of its outer layers to shield the vital organs." Gesturing with a begrudging respect, Mr. Fantastic pointed a hand to the picture of the original monster amongst his materials. "It's an incredible life-form. Not even Godzilla could substantially harm it on his own."
"SHIELD has access to electro-shock weaponry," Victoria offered. "I can have a tac-team on the ground in three hours, armed and ready to go under."
Richards shook his head. "Unless those weapons have enough power to turn a man to dust, it won't be enough to kill ones the size of what Callisto describes."
"We need a stronger power supply…" Rogers voiced.
Charles turned to him, "Not only that, you'd have to pin it down long enough to dehydrate it completely."
"So we need a containment method, and enough portable power to kill it." Hand finished.
"Alternatively…" Reed began, letting the word hang. "We could consider containment itself as the goal; capture them."
The others all fixed him with a cautious stare, saying nothing for several seconds.
Hand sighed, "Reed, I feel like this is why you keep getting in trouble."
"I'm not sure what options capturing them provide." Professor X said. "They're poisonous to every form of life on the planet and feeding them our pollution would just make them larger and more powerful. More dangerous."
Rogers mulled a thought. "If we had to capture one without destroying it, how would we do it?"
"We could freeze it," Reed began, shifting in his chair. "A much simpler method than electrocuting them sufficiently. Or we could… suck them into a containment unit."
Steve cocked his head. "Like a vacuum?"
"More or less."
Victoria rose from her seat, tapping a finger to her upper lip, "Capturing them could resolve our energy problem. Instead of trying to bring 3 million volts to them, we bring them, to the volts."
Reed plucked a particular sheet of paper from his collection, "I've been developing a formula for a specific bait that can be used to lure it out. I just need to gather the raw materials; concentrated elements of industrial and biological waste."
"SHIELD can acquire whatever you need, is this all?" Producing a cell phone, Victoria took a picture of the sheet Richards held up.
"Should be. I can fabricate the lure devices myself."
Roger's pushed away from the table, "We should start putting a team together. Professor, seems like we could use Iceman on this." He said, standing.
The prospect of sending in Bobby Drake, moderately trained though he may be, was not a comfortable one for Charles Xavier. Nonetheless, it made sense. "You understand, the decision is up to him."
"Of course." Steve granted. "And I'll keep your boy right next to me."
"Gentlemen, I have two dozen city officials I have to start making calls to," Approaching the door, Agent Hand smoothed her hair back as she paused. "We'll coordinate later on the specifics."
"And I have a few hours of work to do on my end." Reed said, gathering his papers. "Something else we have to find out, is how the hell AIM got their hands on Hedorah. If they've somehow breeched the barrier between the worlds, who knows what else AIM might be capable of."
"Neither SHIELD nor SWORD have reported any incidents since the invasion," Rogers noted. "That means they either know how to hide the energy signature…"
"Or they've been doing it for god-knows how long." Xavier finished. "Which makes them suspect in the unsolved arrivals of the alien monsters."
LATER…
The knock came at the door quite suddenly, startling Callisto and Sunder mid-conversation. The room was small, one of several outfitted from a warehouse into improvised living quarters. His size prohibitive of a standard cot, the cumbersome Sunder lay on his side atop a foot of layered mats, while she sat hunched elbows over knees on hers.
She cautiously uncoiled herself from her seat and crossed the floor in three steps.
"Ms. Callisto?" Came the voice on the other side just as she reached the handle.
She swung the door open to see Steve Rogers at the threshold, not in the casual clothes from earlier, nor was he bedecked in the red, white & blue like in all the media.
"Hope you have a minute to talk." Dressed in dark clothing, jeans and a black shirt under a black jacket, Rogers presented himself as polite but serious.
"I guess." Was all she said as she stepped aside to let him in.
The goliath of a man started to get up with some visible discomfort, but Rogers halted him with a raised palm and a quick head shake as he himself put his back to a wall.
"We've got a plan," Steve began once Callisto had shut the door. "We've got four teams of agents heading down armed with electro-shock weaponry. I'll lead one of the teams myself, Reed Richards another, and Agent Hand the third."
Callisto's head cocked. "Who's leading the fourth?"
"I was thinking you," Rogers said matter-of-factly. "You know the sewers better than any of us, you know the most likely spots they might be hiding."
"Yeah?" She asked, crossing her arms as she stood opposite. "And we're gonna wipe these things out?"
"As best we can. Gonna try and drive them out into the open and destroy 'em. Richards wants to capture some if he can."
Callisto snickered, "I've heard about Reed Richards; too smart to know when to stop."
"Is it true he was the one that brought the monsters from the other universe?" Sunder asked.
Steve hesitated to answer, not wanting to throw the scientist under the bus, but at the same time, not interested in giving them some crap attempt at covering his ass either. He grimaced noncommittally.
"More or less."
"As long as he gets those things out of our sewers-" Callisto extended her hand. "I'm in."
BAXTER BUILDING
Standing on one side of the glass wall, Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm watched with curious silence, their faces glancing upwards every few seconds only to drop back down.
"Where do ya suppose he got all that from?" Thing asked.
"Same place it always comes from I guess." Johnny theorized with visible discomfort.
In the chamber before them, was a steadily accumulating pile of any number of ingredients of filth and pollution. Dropping from one of the five shoots that emerged from the ceiling of the sealed room, the various components all fell by drip or glop into the open funnel where it all worked its way through the device below.
On the far side of the floor-to-ceiling chamber, Reed watched and took notes as unremarkably as if he were recording the activity of a hamster. Under the receptive funnel, the machine was designed to transform the substances in their various states of solidity into condensed pill-shaped packages that could be projected from a device that resembled a grenade launcher.
"I find it kinda disturbing that SHIELD was able to get their hands on this much industrial waste on such short notice." The younger Storm sibling mused. "You think they had it just laying around?"
"Meh. Who knows what kinda stuff SHIELD's got stashed away?" Grumbled Ben. "Can't be any weirder than the stuff we've run inta. At least it ain't crawling around and killing people."
For a moment Reed glanced up from his work, seeing his friends on the other side of the chamber. He could hear the mumblings of their conversation, no doubt some musings on the toxic sludge or idle commentary on the nature of the creature in the sewers.
"Thank you, Nick." Came the sound of his wife's voice as she approached from the already-closing elevator. "I'll make sure he knows quite clearly."
"More cautious advice from Director Fury?" He asked sidelong, returning to his notes.
Sue spared him a half-grin and slight nod, "Think of it more like his finger being poised over a big red button that says: 'THE END OF REED RICHARDS'."
"Great."
"In any case," She continued. "I've was able to persuade him to not raid the building should you manage to capture one and allow you to study it."
He rolled his eyes, "How gracious of him."
Sensing her husband's displeasure at the prospect of having to account to Nick Fury, Sue put a gentle hand on his back, softening her tone to something more agreeable. "I also talked him into letting me make contact with the other side."
"Really?" A surprised Reed let out, finally taking his gaze away from his work. "To do what?"
"I wanted to reach out to some of the kaijuologists over there. There's only so much I can learn from the data we, well, made off with." Catching a glance at the process in the chamber, Sue grimaced and turned her back to it. "Specifically, there's a Professor Taiji Fujioka I'm interested in speaking to, a leader in the study of the Xenokaiju."
"Think he can help with these Hedorah?"
"And with the others I hope," She said, folding her arms. "Maybe he knows something about how they managed to cross over, or who might have the ability to send them. They've been dealing with troublesome aliens since the sixties, I bet there's a few good candidates."
"In any case, regular information exchange with the other side could be a fantastic boon for both worlds," Returning to the activity of the fabrication, Reed's tone shifted positive. "A chance to study an alternate universe so close in its history to our own could help us understand how multiple realities are even possible."
"And why we happen to find the one with all the monsters in it." Sue mused.
"Could be worse," He postulated. "We could have encountered the universe with all the evil versions of ourselves."
The Invisible Woman scrunched her face, "And a heroic version of Victor Von Doom? I'd actually pay to see that."
Reed paused at the notion, stubbing a mental toe on the idea. But he shook it off as a just another Pandora's box of problems he'd regret opening.
"One alternate universe at a time, hun."
Elsewhere…
There was an uneasiness in his stomach. Not because the plate of gourmet food in front of him was ill-prepared, he brokered nothing but the finest. Rather, it was the news of dangers in the sewers that filled him with a disquiet.
Wiping his mouth with a pristine white silk napkin, Wilson Fisk grumbled as he looked out over the city skyline from the window of his high-rise office. Running an empire like his was like operating a nuclear power plant; everything had to run on schedule, with constant checks and safety measures. If those checks failed, if the system broke down, the results could be catastrophic. Crime was not something that could be abolished, he had long ago realized, but it could be managed, administrated, controlled.
But now there was something that threatened to upset his carefully maintained balance. No, not the multifarious heroes; Wilson considered them a necessary part of the ecosystem, culling the weak, removing the over ambitious and disruptive. These Hedorah creatures, these sludge monsters had already been connected to A.I.M., which meant his most important partnership was in jeopardy.
Placing his silverware over the plate to signal his completion, Fisk wove his fingers together and held them against his chin, pondering his path forward. Advanced Idea Mechanics provided him with the technological means to maintain his position at the top of the underworld. In turn, he paid them handsomely and provided the security and logistics to operate in the city. Despite his personal discomfort with some of their representatives, the symbiotic relationship had proven to be very productive and more importantly, very profitable.
He had expressed his concerns with recent developments, requesting a meeting to decide upon the best course of action to protect their mutual interests. The meeting was scheduled for an hour ago, the prepared lunch at the opposite side of the table still sitting under its polished silver plate cover. They had never been late for a meeting before, not by a minute. But that had been before the invasion.
They tried to hide it behind their usual façade of cold detachment. To a person as insightful as Wilson Fisk however, the very subtle nuances of communication betrayed a shift in comportment. Tight-lipped conversations replaced their off-putting attempts at dialog, and the liaison was accompanied by an enlarged security detail. When asked if they knew anything about the several creatures, the question was not-so-subtly avoided. Of course, he couldn't be sure of the exact nature of their motives, but they certainly knew something they weren't keen to share.
As one servant stepped in to whisk his plate away, a member of his staff standing beside the door signaled the imminent arrival of the AIM agents. Wilson merely clasped his hands together as the doors opened and the handful of men entered. Dressed in matching grey business suits with thin black ties, a tactful departure from the yellow outfits of their subordinates, they looked more like members of a gimmick music band than black market dealers in high-tech weaponry. Comically thin compared to the girth of the Kingpin, four of them remained standing as one seated himself sharply into the chair directly opposite.
"Apologies for our late arrival, Mr. Fisk. I'm afraid we have been preoccupied with other matters as of late." Spoke the representative in a monotone, sporting the same type of thin visor over his eyes as did his men. "The Controller wishes to express his gratitude for your continued support."
"And please relate to your Controller my gratitude for AIM's support in my efforts to maintain control of the city in the wake of such… disastrous events," Replied Wilson. "Lord knows it was needed after those two mutants I employed bungled the job and got captured by Spider-Man and the Human Torch."
The liaison paused to think a moment before smiling thinly and steepling his hands on the table. "Yes, the vigilantes in the city continue to intrigue us, vexing as they can be at times." The AIM agent then tilted his head down to the plate, and removing the lid, uncovered the luncheon meal of a salmon entrée. "A delightful dish."
Wilson squinted, noting that despite the virtually identical likeness of the agents, his counterpart was a bit taller than the liaison who had last attended a meeting.
"Forgive me, but I don't think we're acquainted," Kingpin began curiously. "Could I have your name?"
The agents face snapped level, "As you know, Mr. Fisk, AIM technicians and officers do not operate by names, but by our given nomenclature. Your previous liaison was X-32, I am X-46."
"Well, Mr. 46," Fisk nodded with some pause. "I hope our relationship can be as productive."
"Of course." Seeming to remember himself, X-46 returned his attention to the food.
Kingpin gave the man a minute to engage his food while he considered the tone this conversation was going to take.
"Terrible accident, what happened at the docks," Wilson said casually. "Unfortunate that your men were taken into custody. I can have that issue resolved if you like."
"That would be useful, yes." Answered X-46, taking another forkful of fish. "Their exposure was regrettable, but events may prove informative yet."
"What do you mean?"
"Normally this information would be protected, Mr. Fisk, but since you are such a vital partner in our operation, the Controller has deemed it permissible to share certain data with you."
Leaning back in his ornate chair, ingeniously constructed with reinforcements and other hidden functions, Wilson tilted his head. "How considerate."
"Indeed." X-46 took a sliver of the pink fish on a fork and consumed it neatly. "Although the release of the Hedorah was not in our plans, it does provide a unique opportunity to observe them in an uncontrolled environment. How they adapt, evolve."
"Their proliferation?"
"There are numerous people capable of devising efficient means of curtailing their spawning or eradicating them entirely."
Wilson scrunched his brow. "Not concerned with recovering your assets?"
The AIM agent smiled an unsettling tight smile. "Hardly, Mr. Frisk."
Letting the unspoken insinuation linger, Fisk gazed out to the city for a bit. The other AIM personnel continued to stand silently, remining unexpressive behind their thin visors.
"AIM has already been connected to the creatures," Kingpin said at last. "I'd like to know what kind of measures you've taken to protect yourself."
X-46 nodded, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "Interference from SHIELD is disconcerting, but not unexpected. We have countermeasures in place."
There was a pregnant pause, eliciting the AIM rep to straighten his back in understanding. "The nature of which I'm afraid, is confidential."
"And here I thought I was a trusted ally." Wilson said, opening his hands.
"Please do not mistake precaution for mistrust, Mr. Fisk," X-46 apologized, inverting the gesture by keeping his fingers interlocked and parsing the heels of his palms. "Some knowledge is privileged, even among AIM hierarchy."
"And what of my interests? Or is that information also privileged?"
X-46's face tightened ever so subtly, "Of course not. Your holdings in Harlem, Queens, and lower Brooklyn are well shielded, and any investigation we endure from the authorities cannot be linked to your operations."
Another thought crossed Wilson's mind, something at least to broaden the conversation. "And the other project… has there been any progress on that?"
Agent X-46 was lifting another serving to his mouth when the question was asked, but it stopped suddenly, the man seemingly caught by surprise.
"I take your hesitation to mean you know to what I'm referring." Kingpin smirked, gratified to have finally upset the icy façade.
X-46 swallowed. "Quite so." The words sharp. "We've reached great progress on that project. Prototypes are in development."
"Excellent. Perhaps when you have something operational, you can allow me to field-test."
"I will submit your request to The Controller." Was all the AIM liaison said, folding his napkin and placing it perpendicular to the plate. From the entourage, one of the others stepped forward and whispered something into X-46's ear. "Thank you for your time Mr. Fisk." He stood, arms to his side. "Please excuse the abrupt departure, but other matters require my attention."
"Of course." Standing likewise in courtesy, Kingpin signaled for his security to open the door. "Do give my regards to your superior."
The retinue paused, X-46 turning back momentarily. He raised his right hand, the edge towards Fisk, fingers curled so that the middle finger just met the thumb. With a snap, the hand straightened upward in a salutary gesture before continuing to exit.
Wilson returned to his seat as the doors closed, pressing his fingers into the armrest with a deliberate pattern. As he spun the chair towards the table, a section of his end rose up at an angle to expose a built-in monitor. On it, he watched the video feed transition from one camera to another as it followed the AIM cadre making their way through the halls.
As the file of grey-suited men turned a left corner, the feed switched to the oncoming shot. When it did however, there were no men to be found. In fact, after taking manual control of the feed, the men appeared to be nowhere at all.
Kingpin put his elbows on the glass, brought his interlaced hands to his mouth, resting his chin on the extended thumbs, and began pondering.
TIMES SQUARE
21:42 hrs
The beating heart of Manhattan, was clogged like an abused artery with law enforcement vehicles and barriers. Curious onlookers kept back at the perimeter trying to catch a glimpse of the bustle of activity at the center where more than a few had noted the presence of Captain America.
Taking a moment from giving out directions to SHIELD tactical agents and going over the deployment plans, Steve Rogers spied a small flash of light from a nearby rooftop. Squinting, he was able to make out the outline of a person in red and blue making a subsequent flight from the scene. He allowed a slight smile to creep over his face.
"Captain," Announced one of the agents as he approached Rogers. "The X-Man is here, the Drake kid."
Turning, Steve saw the semi-famous teen making his way through, escorted by a pair of SHIELD guards. Arrived in his uniform he was all smiles, attention darting all around.
"Thanks for coming." Rogers said, extending a hand once the young man got to the tactical hub. "I think you could help us a lot."
"Not a problem, Cap!" A grinning Bobby exclaimed, taking Steve's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "Happy to help anyway I can!"
"Good. Then I suppose Professor Xavier explained what we're doing?" Leading Drake onward, Steve brought him to a white tent, wherein was posted a map of the sewer system.
Bobby shrugged, "Uh, there's a bunch of toxic sludge monsters in the sewers, and we're gonna go smoke 'em all out?"
"Pretty much, yeah." Four major points were plotted over the Manhattan system, Rogers pointing to each of them in turn as he spoke. "There's four teams, led by myself, Agent Victoria Hand, Reed Richards, and the Morlock leader Callisto. Richards has a device set up here-" Tapping a point where several tunnels met. "-where we need to herd any creatures too big for the mobile electrocution units and fry them into powder.
"Wicked." Mumbled Drake, listening as Captain America continued.
WEST 86TH & BROADWAY
"For the love of god…" No sooner had Special Agent Victoria Hand ordered the manhole cover lifted, than the utility worker using the hook to do it was blasted in the face by a gob of acidic sludge. A Hedorah had been crawling up the ladder undernearth, startled by the sudden encounter the creature loosed its corrosive expulsion. Now the Department of Sanitation worker lay on the pavement, arms curled up, back arched in agony, the skin of his face eaten away to the white of the bone, mouth agape in a final horrific gasp.
She had seen the reports of the other two NYSD workers, but seeing it happen live in person was a level of nightmare she hadn't thought she'd be able to stomach. But there she was, staring down at the poor man with little more than the sensation of dry mouth. The creature was driven back by a barrage of the electro-shock rounds, releasing a cloud of smog like a squid to cover its escape. Which left S.A. Hand to deal with the deceased in the middle of the operation.
"Johnson…" She said aloud to the agent at her side. "Get him a CASEVAC, have Peters hang back and take care of the paperwork."
"You got it." The man said, departing.
Shocking as the death was, there still remained an operation to run so that they might prevent more people from becoming such victims.
"Shit…" Dragging a hand over her face, she turned away from the gruesome sight. Taking a deep breath Hand forced her mind to refocus on the mission, and checking her watch, sighed to see that they were still ten minutes away from start time.
"Henders, help me here." Ushering over another female agent, Victoria squatted down and gripped the shoulders of the deceased, scrunching her face and twisting it away from having to abuse her senses further from the waft coming off the body.
The other agent hesitated at first, but after another prodding from her boss, rushed to grab the man's feet. Together, they shuffled him over to a space that wouldn't be in the way of what they need to do.
"Real quick, Henders," Hand said as they settled him down. "Find a cloth, or blanket or something and give him some dignity, cover him up."
"Yes ma'am." The agent answered solemnly.
Victoria closed and opened her hands a few times as she walked away, feeling without looking the residue on her gloves. She tore them off and flung them out of sight. This would be her first major field operation, and she already had a civilian casualty on her report before they had even stepped off. She was a woman eager to prove her worth in a position that wouldn't have otherwise become available had those in line ahead of her not perished in one fell swoop. How she reacted to this situation would itself dictate more of how her performance would be evaluated than the fact someone died, cold as that may seem.
Now all she had to do was lead her team into the maw of danger, knowing that any casualties beyond this point would be fully on her head.
6th & WEST 67th
Callisto held the weapon in her arms like someone had handed her a stranger's baby. Far more advanced than anything she'd even considered getting her hands on, it hummed softly from some internal power generator, lighter in weight than its somewhat bulky build might impress. She'd held a gun before, even a shotgun, but his was like something out of a sci-fi movie where they have to gun-down hordes of alien insects.
Her position was more that of a guide than leader, despite what Captain America had pitched. So far, she'd been content to stand aside and let the agents go about their work. They would just come grab her when the time was right, she thought. Looking around, she did note a few stares in her direction by the odd passing agent, nothing she hadn't expected to some degree.
"Special Agent Seth Makon, here to help."
Callisto spun her head to see a new man striding towards her. Dressed in similar tactical gear, he carried himself with a bit more purpose, short dark hair under a SHIELD cap. He held his hand out for her to shake, which she did with some caution.
"Mutant Affairs liaison for New York State," He began. "I worked with Xavier and the X-Men during the uh… the monster thing."
"We're not X-Men." Callisto said dryly.
Makon dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I'm aware of that ma'am. But as the Morlocks are mutants they fall under my purview."
The notion struck Callisto at an odd angle and she flinched slightly, trying to grasp the scope of what this meant.
"So what?" She asked. "SHIELD gonna put us on a welfare program? Give us food stamps?"
"Uh, not as such yet, Ma'am," Seth replied, somewhat knocked back by the questions. "For right now, my focus is on helping clear out these critters. Then we can get around to perhaps making some new arrangements for your people."
Callisto twisted her face away, "We just wanna go back to our sewers and be left alone."
"And I'm inclined to leave you folks be with the least amount of trouble, but I'm afraid the cat's out of the bag now. In all likelihood, the Morlocks won't be allowed to go back to living down there."
She scowled at him as he continued. "I haven't hashed it out with Hand and Director Fury yet, but you should expect to wind up being relocated."
"Relocated?!" She barked, surging towards him. "We came to you people for help! We're not your captives!"
Throwing his hands up defensively, Makon took two steps back. "You're not- Listen, you're not in trouble, but nobody is going to allow a separatist group to just live in the municipal sewage tunnels. For all I know they'll put you up in some nice hotel for a bit, build you a condo or something."
"The only people who decide where the Morlocks go, are the Morlocks." Callisto tucked her weapon under her arm, marching to where the SHIELD tac-team was assembling for initial entry.
As he watched her leave, Agent Makon slid a hand down the side of his face, "I had to volunteer for the mutant gig."
Elsewhere…
"Whoa… Awesome…" Casting his sight in all directions, Bobby Drake looked though the greenish filter of the night-vision goggles at the close confines of the sewer walls as he followed along in the train of SHIELD agents.
"The X-Men can't afford NVG's?" Asked the agent behind him.
Bobby glanced back over his shoulder, "Beast's got plenty of cool stuff, but we rarely use all of it, and I haven't been out on too many missions."
"Don't get too distracted, Drake." Came the voice of Steve Rogers from ahead. "After the death of that man over at Hand's location, we don't need any more surprise encounters."
"Right, right." Flexing his fingers, Bobby felt the cold energy building between them, preparing to cast it at a moment's notice.
Another voice clicked on through the ear-piece comms, "Got something up front, Cap."
"Show me."
Rounding near to the lead man, Rogers followed the path of the flashlight attached to the bottom of his weapon to where he found the reason for the call. The tunnel transitioned into a small chamber, with corners to both sides, and where the man was pointed on the right, was a something that looked like mound of spoiled pudding. At first there seemed to be no troublesome sign beyond the unpleasantness of the sight. But then the pile pulsed like a heartbeat, an oscillating purr emanating from it.
Steve pressed the talk button on his comms. "Bring up the containment team." He leaned back to look down the line, finding his next subject. "Drake, up here."
Iceman stepped forward cautiously, to where Captain America held out a hand to guide him in the right direction. Rogers' gripped him by the arm and pointed.
"Freeze that thing, then the containment boys can take it away for Richards to study later."
"You got it."
The motions were as effortless as they had ever been, but his knowledge of the importance made it feel like he was concentrating on a test. Nonetheless, the cold blast struck the pulsating blot, encasing it in an instant within a frozen restraint.
"That was easy." Bobby said, being somewhat underwhelmed by the whole thing. A pair of men rushed by him in the next moment, carrying a cylindrical device between them, metal endcaps with glass windows. Working quickly, they used tools to chisel and pry the thing away from the concrete, stowing the chunk in the case.
"Alright, lets keep moving," Ordered the Captain. "We could be at this all night."
Ksh, ksh…. Ksh! The rounds from the advanced weapons sailed like tracers to their targets, leaving a bluish glow in their wake before impacting the squiggly flesh of the thing attached to the brick wall. Small shockwaves went out from the point of contact, earning a screech of pain as the skate-like form peeled off and fell to the ground. A single eye twitching as it roved back and forth.
"Hurry up and microwave that thing," Ordered Victoria, lowering her weapon.
Rushing forward, three agents carrying tough boxes surrounded the still-paralyzed creatures. In seconds they unfolded the cases into a set of portable electrode panels, the third man connecting them to a battery unit via a pair of cables. With a nod traded among the trio a switch was flipped, and arcs of electricity coursed between the panels.
The Hedorah twisted and spasmed, loosing a panicked, clicking wail, its tail lashing. A gloved hand turned a dial and the humming of the battery surged, the bolts increasing in violence. After several moments, the thing was reduced to a powdery material with thin trails of smoke rising from the remains. The devices were powered down and the agents prodded the pile with glass rods, finding at last a small pale pearl the size of a marble.
"So Richards was right…" Victoria observed, peering over their shoulders, NVG's pulled up. Producing a flask-shaped container from her beltline, she scooped the pearl into it. "Reed can have his samples, I wanna have our lab techs take their own look."
Another agent approached her from behind. "Report's ma'am, forward team says they found a nest of 'em in the tunnel ahead."
"Weapons up." Lowering the nightvision goggles and stowing the flask, Hand made sure the electro-unit was properly recovered before the team moved on.
Victoria led her squad as they advanced single file. Her forward team had stopped at the entrance to an intersection in the lines underneath an apartment complex. Where the waterway grooves converged in the center, sat a pulsating hunk of bluish-grey mud, the form speckled with tiny points of reflected light in the NVG filter. Gleams of light likewise reflected off the many roving eyes covering the surface and peering out in all directions.
"Looks like they've just… piled onto one another." Whispered a man as Agent Hand knelt beside him at the threshold of the chamber. "Letting all the crap come to them."
"Well there's too many for the mobile panels," She noted, gauging her options. "And I don't want to scatter them. We'll have to get them to Richard's trap with the lures." Victoria turned and signaled to her rear, motioning for a particular member.
A female agent carrying a different type of weapon answered the summons, stalking heel-to-toe forward. Her armament resembled an M32 grenade launcher, or at least the variant employed for riot control situations.
Hand opened an electronic panel strapped to her left forearm, scrolling the curved pad to examine a map.
"That one," She said, pointing at a tunnel to their 9 o'clock.
The female agent nodded, bringing her weapon to the high ready and taking aim. A soft TUMPH was all the noise the weapon made, firing a single projectile off the wall of the targeted avenue where it exploded in a cloud of grey dust.
"Masks up." Hand reminded her team. Fingers found the button on their tactical helmets, and within a few seconds, the integrated respiratory masks slid over their noses and mouths.
A sharp uptick in clicks from the assorted Hedorah preceded a definitive turn in attention to where the lure round had dispersed. One by one, like a school of fish they moved in unison towards the splatter, dislodging itself from where it sat, a living mudslide of eyes.
"Keep firing over it," Victoria told the agent. "We'll walk it right into Reed's trap."
"So why the sewers?" Agent Makon asked, keeping pace with Callisto at the head of their squad. "Seems like there are better places to run away from home to."
He had had to help her with the helmet and NVG harness, and she still seemed a bit awkward having them affixed to her head. Nonetheless, she turned to glare at him for a moment. The question was reasonable, but it still struck a defensive, self-conscious nerve for her.
"It's come up among us a few times. But being in the city makes getting resources easier. Millions of people throwing away more than enough to keep us fed, warm, occupied." Reaching for the chinstrap of her helmet, Callisto gave it a frustrated tug to the left.
The rationale gave Makon pause for thought, "So… you don't want to accept government charity, but you do want to scrounge though our trash like racoons?"
"HEY!" She barked, whirling to the side to confront him. Her lips quivered with the burning motivation to rip into him surged from her breast. But just as fast as the anger welled in her heart, a realization came to her mind, and the words that might had come dissipated.
Seth no-sold her indignation, "Look, I'm just trying to tell you, you have more dignified options available." He said with a shrug.
Deflated but still aggravated, Callisto turned forward with a grunt and marched onward. Eager to put her mind onto a different matter, she quickly scanned the path ahead, recognizing the way that would lead them to good hunting.
"A little farther," She advised. "Roxxon made a dumping ground out of an old storage chamber. There's bound to be a few of those creatures in there."
The flashlight beam swept over the twisted pane of metal that had once been a door. The threshold was stained with black oil, the bottom corner of the opening side bent inward with a sizable portion missing beyond pitted and eaten edges.
Agent Makon gave Callisto a nod before using an arm to guide her behind him, bringing his weapon up. He turned to the next agent, putting up three fingers to start a silent countdown. Given the 'go' signal the agent moved up to the door, avoiding the missing portion and reaching out to the lever to test if it was locked. The handle swiveled down with some effort, the grinding slide of the lock-tooth retracting, the gap between the frame and door widening slightly.
A lone stream of light pierced the darkness, the door swinging open with a groan from old, rusted hinges. It was first met by the sight of an industrial containment drum bearing bio-hazard signage, partially destroyed as if a shark had taken a bite out of the side. Agent Makon peered over the shoulder of the lead man through his night vision, an almost shocking stench causing him to pinch his face shut for a moment. Indeed, he noticed a discernable haze clinging to the ceiling, a miasma that resembled rolling thunderclouds about a foot and a half thick.
The calm of the scene was shattered when a loud, clicking trill broke out seemingly surprised by the intrusion to its lair. Makon entered the room himself, stepping left after the other man stepped right. There against the wall opposite sat a huge blob of pulsating grey/green sludge. Eyes as big as trash can lids glowered at the humans, sclera like hot metal and irises like smoldering fire regarded the men with alert caution. In all, the amassed Hedorah was four-time the size of the men, occupying at least a quarter of the room, several more waste drums poking out from various parts of its body.
"Don't spook it," Makon whispered into his throat mic. "That thing could kill all of us if it thinks we're a threat."
"So, what the hell are we gonna do?" The agent asked.
Makon stared hard at the monster as he considered their options, "We have to draw it out, get it to-"
It was only because Seth Makon refused to take his eyes away from the monster that he caught the shift in posture, years of training recognizing the split-second before an attack was launched.
"GET BACK!" Makon grabbed his teammate by the collar, propelling them both backwards through the doorway where they sprawled onto the ankle-deep water. The Hedorah slammed into the wall where Seth had been with a heartbeat to spare, splattering itself against the brick with reckless physicality. A tiny splotch of its corrosive matter expulsed during the collision struck Makon and streaked across his face from right cheek to just past his eyebrow.
"AAHH!" He screamed, instinctively putting a hand to his face as his body convulsed from the pain, gloved hands seizing him to pull him to safety.
The Hedorah let itself slide down the wall with a menacing gurgle, moving forward with serpentine grace towards a doorway that was now ostensibly far too small to accommodate it. It reached a limb dripping with grey sludge through the entrance, pushing its head with grotesque ease sidelong to follow.
"Keep it back!" An agent cried out. A barrage of the small electro-munitions assailed the creature's exposed parts, sparks flaring at each point of impact.
Callisto, having found herself in the rear of the squad, clutched her weapon to her breast after hearing the screams and seeing little else past the others than a flurry of movement and panicked shouting. She heard the familiar sounds of the monster as it wailed under the assault, imagining how big it must be compared to the one she encountered before. Good sense told her to turn and flee, she knew the sewers well enough. Anger however, anger for her friends steeled her will and tightened the grip on her weapon. She stepped forward.
The greater bulk of the Hedorah passed through the doorway, filling the space from side to side and nearly to the ceiling, it raised a peduncle-laden arm to absorb the brunt of the incoming fire,
"The rounds aren't enough!" An agent yelled.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
A cruel gleam sparked in the Hedorah's eye as it produced a growling chitter, its vertical eyelids narrowing. It took a deep breath, one that expanded its back like a balloon to press against the confines of the space. From a hidden vent somewhere approximating where a mouth would be, flowed forth a black smog that sank to the ground like mist on a moor, advancing in a rolling tide towards the humans.
"Reed, the sensors are lighting up," Susan Richards said with some astonishment as she tracked a number of red blips on her translucent tablet. She hovered a few feet off the floor in a bubble of her own mental construction, a portion of it shaped into a seat where she sat with one leg draped over the other. "That lure stuff you made is working a little too well."
"Quite the contrary, sweetheart," Countered her husband though the air filter strapped to his face, staring down into his own device filled with flashing metrics. "It's working exactly how I want it too."
The pair stood in the center of an arched intersection of several tunnels, the space well-lit via self-powered circular pads attached to the ceiling. Set up against the wall partitions between the tunnels were large electrode panels taller than a man and facing inwards. Power cables ran from the tops of the machines to a spherical black node installed in the apex of the roof, a series of red and white lights appearing and disappearing across its surface. Positioned at the threshold of each passageway stood a tripod that held a feeder filled with the grey dust of the lure compound above a small fan that sent the fine particles wafting off.
"Hopefully, this will make things easier for the others," Reed continued, his left eye socket morphing sideways to peer down a tunnel. "As they drive the creatures closer to the trap, the Hedorah will pick-up on the bait, and slough right in."
Striding into the space with a huge glass cylinder clutched to his chest, Thing affixed the case atop a plate-shaped device on the ground with a grunt, muffled through his own breathing apparatus. "Ya know stretch, I been wondering just what 'cher gonna do with all these things once you catch 'em."
"There's a planet in the Negative Zone I've had in mind that might be suitable for their unique uh… necessities." Richards pursed his lips, examining the component his friend had brought. "We'll need to set this up quickly, the Hedorah are already moving in on our position."
"What're you guys doing down there?" Johnny Storm complained into his mic as he leaned against the barricade of the closed-off intersection. "I get that my part is like, very important, but is this really gonna take all night?"
Reed was securing the top of a containment cylinder when he grimaced at Johnny's gripey tone in his ear.
"We should be busy very shortly, Johnny," He reminded his brother-in-law. "Just be prepared in case any of them try to escape to the street."
Glancing down to the uncovered manhole, the Human Torch cast a short burst of flame at it. "Yeah, don't worry. If any smog monsters stick their head out, I'll scare 'em back down."
"Thanks Johnny." Reed said, locking a pair of clamps in place to secure the containment seal. "But we may be here a while, depending on how many Hedorah have spawned in the area."
"Reed, they're here!" Called out Sue, lowering her protective sphere to the floor. "Time for you guys to pull in."
Both Thing and Richards stepped close to Susan, allowing her to absorb them into her construct. "You sure you can keep these bug-zappers from frying us, Suzie?" Grimm asked, knocking a finger against the hard light.
"If I wasn't, Ben, I wouldn't be standing in the middle of them." She laughed.
"I just don't wanna get electrocuted, on top of being drowned in living feces."
"Pulling in the lures." Dragging a finger in a half-circle on his tablet, Reed watched as the tripods set up with the stink-baits slowly rolled backwards, stopping just shy of colliding with Susan's barrier.
Staring down one of the tunnels, Reed could see a faint set of red lights moving in the darkness, an irregular outline in the shadow coming closer by the moment.
Thing likewise found shapes shambling in one of the tunnels, an incessant clicking trill growing louder as they approached.
The first of the Hedorah breached the light of the space, and Susan covered her mouth at the sight of the dog-sized creature crawling on all fours paused at the threshold for its singular eye to scan the room. Utterly alien, its locomotion seemed to operate on boneless forelimbs slapping down like flippers, viscous slime coating its supple hide.
"We have to wait until they come between the panels," Mr. Fantastic said aloud. "Don't do anything to make them startled or scared to get closer. They're just like any other animal."
A heavy eyebrow raised on Ben Grimm's face at the comment, "What kinda animals you grow up with?"
One by one the creatures made their way into the chamber, in various sizes and configurations, piling over one another, seeking the source of the lure.
Reed glanced down to his control board, preparing to switch on the electropanels.
But a pulsing alert flared across his device and Susan's.
"Callisto's team is under attack!" She said, biting back her volume. "Requesting help!"
Reed knew the Fantastic Four were the closest source for aid, but for the Hedorah now swarming over them. Thinking quickly, he triggered the electricity.
NEW YORK HARBOR
Morning.
The daily voyage of the garbage scow was about as uneventful as the crew expected. Leading it via thick ropes secured to the barge's bollards, the tugboat pushed along. Conversation was traded over cups of coffee as seagulls poked at the refuse heap and squawked at each other for territory.
The helmsman in the pilot house was just taking a sip of his warm mug when the barge was shaken by an impact from below. It managed to knock the tugboat a few degrees off, and the men on deck yelped with a bit of surprise, one man cursing the hot coffee scalding his hand.
"The hell was that?" Someone called out as heads popped over the sides to check for any obstruction they might have hit.
Another bump this time harder rocked the scow with such force that two men lost their footing and slammed onto the deck. With frantic urgency the helmsman snatched the radio mic, putting out the mayday to anyone on the net. Seagulls went berserk, breaking away and fluttering about in a screeching panic.
The barge was struck again but the force continued, steadily lifting the bow and causing the engines of the tug to whine as they struggled against the unseen impediment. A froth of seafoam roiled out from underneath the hull, the bubbles releasing a noxious odor that dove the men to cover their noses and pinch their eyes shut. One older man, face caked with white stubble scraped his fingers across his features as he grunted in pain.
With a sudden lurch the barge dropped sharply in conjunction with a cacophonous noise of metal and wood being torn apart. For a few tense moments the ship bounced in the water as men scrambled and tried to keep their eyes open, there was a high-pitched warbling that vibrated throughout the structure.
A crewman that had been at the bow of the tugboat raced to the aid of his mates and caught sight of something happening to the barge. The center of the trash pile rose by itself, like something under a blanket. He stood watching transfixed a moment before an eruption of water burst through in a geyser of salt spray and trash. Another element was mixed in with the debris as it rained down over the deck, a black sludge that fell in droplets, sticking where it landed.
A single smear found itself on the forehead of the man come to help his fellows, though he ignored it at first, thinking it nothing more than a splatter of muck. After a moment however, he began to feel it burn his skin, a sharp sensation like a hot ember. With a cry he tried to swipe it off but succeeded only in spreading the pain to his hand.
A series of loud clicks rung out from the garbage scow as more of the dark ooze began pouring out over the heap.
"Cut the lines!" Cried the helmsman as he rushed past the others, fire axe in hand.
In the epicenter of the muck emerged a pair of eyes, bloodshot with an emerald iris that surged atop the rising mass. From somewhere in the living mire a curious warbling gurgled out, the eyes searching back and forth, settling with a slant on the tugboat.
The crew's faces widened in terror, "Jesus…" Mumbled one, struggling to keep his eyes open against the pain.
Now a mass that spanned the breadth of the barge, a clump of the Hedorah lifted itself in approximation of an appendage, rising from the body to shape digits dripping with its primordial clay. The birthing process repeated itself, producing three more limbs and a tail that unfolded to splash into the water behind it. Experimenting with its newfound articulation, the Hedorah arched its back, throwing the balance of the scow to the rear and jostling the tugboat.
The men hacked at the thick, dense cables with renewed efforts, desperately trying to untether themselves from the monster's caustic proximity. Their work was hampered however by the fact of the constant stinging of their sensory organs, keeping them half blind and frequently spitting the horrid taste from their mouths.
With a final swing of the fire axe the main cable was severed, loosing the tugboat from the turbulent barge. Now freed, the helmsman rushed back to the pilot house to steer them as far from the creature as he could.
He made it to the doorframe of the room when he heard one of his crewmen shout, "CHARLIE! LOOK OUT!
When the helmsman turned, the Hedorah was in mid-leap, its shadow falling over the tugboat. It crashed down upon the vessel and its screaming crew, smashing it down into the water where it disappeared under the chaos of froth and waves. The glowing red eyes of the monster drifting into darkness as it sunk below the surface to the sound of its fading gurgle.
/