Chapter 4: What Money Can Buy
Six hours since Plainsman and Fiddler rendezvoused on the roof, Marvin Flumm stirs his coffee after stirring from bed. He stares out the window across Gateway Arch National Park. As dawn arrives, he examines the eastern sky above the Mississippi River. Over Illinois, the early light is a rich red that crimsons the grizzled criminal's visage through the wafting water vapor of his grounds. Flumm sips, and his cheeks scarlet with the outdoors.
Mentallo speaks over his shoulder, "Thanks for the brew, bro. It goes to my brain." Fixer fetched the strong Sumatran java from a local donut shop.
"Good," Fixer finishes his own breakfast, "We need your formidable brain fully active in about 3.5 hours. The meeting is at ten hundred."
"Hmph," the psychic continues to ponder the dawn, "You know, they say 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. But, red sky in morning, sailor take warning'. We shall see if we have smooth sailing today or if we have a storm."
"Well, St. Louie is going to have a helluva thunder-boomer by evening," forecasts Fixer, "especially because it is hotter than a f***ing Inferno out there already before seven a.m."
"Good tornado weather," Marvin adds.
Bert appraises, "But, we don't need to give a fetid fig about the coming fracas, for we can finish our business and then boogie for home."
"Hmph," Marvin repeats.
Mentallo casually breakfasts on baklava. The Turkish treat tastes splendid as the supervillain starts his day of dirty deeds, and the Resistant would dally a bit before showering and suiting-up. Marvin Flumm would settle his mind before the conclave, and he considers finding an early newspaper to quietly peruse instead of even turning-on the morning news. Too few folks still appreciate print over video.
Ebersol interrupts Flumm's rumination, "The CSA is sending someone to aid us today. The Plainsman is the man's name."
"Hmph, never heard of him," veteran Mentallo surveys the red sky this morning.
Minimal miles east, U.S. Agent asks four Avengers, "What's your name?"
"The Avengers," Wasp whiffs, "I originally gave the group that name."
"I vaguely recall that first adventure," Bruce Banner adds, "No doubt, Hulk remembers it clearly, for he was more present."
"That's great, Banner. Could you please show me the Hulk?" Agent entreats.
"Well, I'm in a good mood right now," the unassuming scientist smirks sheepishly.
"Really?" Walker.
"Plus, I have been trying like blazes all morning to transform, and I can't," Bruce admits.
"Is trying like blazes making you sweat?" Walker notices Banner's wet brow and shirt.
The "milksop" mops his mug, "No. Mostly, it is that it is baking out here already at seven a.m."
The group stands openly on the Arlington Greens golf course in Granite City, IL, a St. Louis suburb. Except for Bruce, their garb gives them a garishness before the groundskeepers preparing the area for the day. The staff keeps its distance from the costumed crew looking like freakin' weirdos. Also, Tigra looks like a lycanthrope.
Wasp continues the conversation, "The TV news says that there is a heat advisory today."
"I read such in the paper," Tigra contributes.
Speed pumps his fist, "May the only heat advisory be that we advise the villains that we bring the heat!"
U.S. Agent rolls his eyes. The disgusted Georgian snorts hard and spits goober on the grass. He states, "I can't have you guys being goofy. I can't have you a-holes being addled. We have two masters' evil activities to arrest and a ton of AIM actors accompanying them. Neither the heat nor Mentallo nor nothing else can be botching your brains and abilities right now. You have to show me what you even half-way have."
"I can do that," Tigra declares, "I'm alright. Nobody worry about me."
Across the golf course, Tigra sprints like a beast for tall beeches bordering the open lawn. She leaps far up a towering trunk and frolics in its foliage, limberly flipping her lithe form from bough to bough. For fun, the kitty careens to the adjacent beech and sticks her strong claws into its bark. Suspended by the nails, Tigra swings her right hand to a thick branch and effortlessly fractures wood. Then she plants her right, swipes her left, and severs a thinner limb. Caterwauling, the wild woman releases herself and drops. Her clawed hands and feet shred beechwood all of the way down, spraying a storm of chunks and splinters. Under boughs, she takes a bow.
The observing groundskeepers may not like the scene, but U.S. Agent sure does.
The Captain calls, "Good going, Greer! Glad to see you back!"
"I am next!" Wasp will not be upstaged.
Jan jumps in the air and activates powers appropriately. She shrinks. She springs little wings. She starts to soar, stingers sizzling—before everything fizzles in an instant. Wide-eyed, the proud heroine plummets thirteen feet. And, irked Agent does not even move to catch her. Perhaps, he hopes that Speed will step in. In a blink, Tommy catches his endangered companion and gently plants her boots.
Before blushing Jan can utter excuses, Tommy announces, "Now, I'm next."
Like Missouri's Whizzer, Speed bolts into a blur crossing the golf course. In seconds, he circles the entire expanse several times while others watch Robert Frank's (the Whizzer's) supposed descendant. Then, his powers crap-out. . . . .
Speed suddenly slows severely, and he stumbles and skids along the turf. A staff cart clips him, spinning him about. Annoyed, Shepherd summons back his speed, and he supernaturally skims across a water trap—until his feet fail again. Speed splashes sloppily below the surface and slams the bottom silt. Jan gasps and goes to aid him, as he did her. However, the resilient racer rises right away. After wiping besmirched goggles, he vibrates like an earthquake and soundly agitates the soil from his person.
U.S. Agent assesses his crew. This striketeam seems but half-ready and, therefore, but half-assed. However, he has human hazards to halt in St. Louis, and Earth's Mightiest Heroes often prevail despite a few hiccups. The super-soldier decides that the Avengers must advance across the river, where the Rowen rises like a redoubt to siege. With a hardy "yo!", the Captain motions for his teammates to huddle-up. He drapes his arms over his brothers-in-arms Bruce and Tommy. In turn, Banner drapes van Dyne and Shepherd hooks Nelson. Jan joins with Greer.
Encircled, the assembled Avengers eye each other. They wonder what plan that Jan or John might propose, for three Avengers are not their usual superlative selves. Semi-effective saviors seem silly to send to St. Louis. So, everyone wonders whether everyone is going at all.
Agent answers their mutual tacit concern, "Clearly, we ain't one hundred percent this morning. But, bad guys tend to be ultimately zeros anyway. So, do the math. We're number one. Those zeros are number two. So, our all-American character, if nothing else, makes us twice the characters that they are every time."
"That is true," Tigra supplements the pep talk, "Tigra and U.S. Agent can ruin a room of rogues ourselves if we must, and we likely do not have to. Avengers beat the odds all of the time, and champions rise to the challenge of their rivals, especially I of the Tigra." The Cat Person caresses her titular talisman.
"You will not be alone," Wasp assures, "I bring my seasoned brains to battle if not my full abilities."
"And, I bring my brains too if not Brobdingnagian brawn," Dr. Banner states. Bruce does not state that, fairly or not, Jan has never been known for her brains. Beside Bruce, Jan sensitively does not state that she has never been known for tolerating well b.o. from a group under the sweltering sun.
Resolved, Walker raises his fist. The Captain declares, "Let's move out!"
Enthusiastic charger Tommy announces, "Yeah! Adventurers Assemble!"
"Okay, that doesn't inspire confidence," John mumbles.
In the near future, in Missouri, Mentallo sits motionless and scans the conference room, his gaze safely concealed behind the Psycho-Helmet's dark visor. Across the table, Chemistro sits at twelve o'clock at ten in the morning. Curtis' masked face looks back at Marvin's masked face, and Carr seemingly assesses Flumm right back. Flumm looks away. Kitty-corner, Eve Necker and Nathaniel Duffy sit—the assistant with an oddly dead stare. Mentallo mindprobes the redhead deeply and her workmate. To Marv's slight surprise, Duffy is a nascent cyborg. Dr. Necker has recently begun burrowing and burying circuitry into his cerebrum. The hardware in his head functions much like the chips and gears operating in Plainsman. Duffy is an automatic bodyguard should anyone threaten Eve, with psychic attack.
Of course, Eve need not fear psychic attack at this assembly. Mentallo has already informed her—by ESP—that she and he work mutually for MODOK and AIM. She is glad to hear such news in her head, and she volunteers that Duffy is an early version of something called a Minion. Unbeknown yet to Necker, the Minion cyborg is but an early version of the Death's Head cyborg that the scientist creates in 2020, next year. But, for now, Eve has no knowledge of such developments.
Over Necker's shoulder, Grey Gargoyle sits casually guarding all present AIM personnel. He is cool and casual, for Mentallo has also quietly communicated with him. Like a church gargoyle, he sits stone-still observing proceedings. If he need move a muscle, AIM's hired muscle will move it.
To Marvin's right is his right-hand man Fixer, and the Plainsman is on his port. Each flank has automatic defenses, whether by exoskeleton or internal components, that will attack AIM if the sly scientists try any shenanigans. The CSA dealers have aces in the hole, as Plainsman would put it.
Mentallo thinks that the villainous assembly could be an uneventful and amiable exchange. The seven present have assured such—through tacit threat. Dr. Necker raps the table hard twice, and she suggests that they start the meeting.
Elsewhere, tacit trepidation tugs at Bruce Banner's insides, but it does not pull forth the Hulk hidden within. In fact, Bruce frets because the Big Guy seems completely dormant. Despite trying some triggering, the mere man does not feel a tremendous and terrible tingle through his flesh. His skin is not a wee green. An expanding frame is not straining his duds. Discouraged, Bruce looks at U.S. Agent across the alley behind the Rowen. At ease, the super-soldier observes his comrade's unrest.
"Don't worry. Be happy, Hulk," the commander comments, "It could be a good thing that you are not rampaging through the streets of St. Louie yet. Certainly, we are trying to sneak-up on the supervillains, not spook them s***less before a surprise assault."
"I suppose," Bruce affirms, "The circumstance is not completely bad. It preserves our element of surprise."
"Which we worked hard to achieve," Speed dumps trashed technology on the cement.
A moment earlier, Speed, Wasp, Tigra, and U.S. Agent simultaneously sabotaged, sacked, and destroyed all perceivable detection equipment around "AIM central" here. Everything went down at once. If the heroes are lucky, any AIM security staff believes that a blackout has just occurred in the intense summer heat. Or, guards maybe believe that an AIM generator or computer failed. Or, the sabotage could be unnoticed at the moment. Or, the system crash could appear to be an attack. In any case, AIM's alert system should be disconcerted for a precious minute while the heroes make their move. Hopefully, no AIM flunky has even yet contacted the second-floor convocation.
"Yeee-hah!" Tigra tosses some crushed camera on the pile, "Now we need only worry about telepathic detection from Mentallo or MODOK."
"Monstrous MODOK is at least not in sight," Jan pops from thin air. Presently, her size abilities function fine.
"And, Mentallo's mind is likely occupied by the get-together," Dr. Banner conjectures, "No earthly psychic, not even Mentallo's, is cognizant of everyone at once. So, we are perhaps 'under his radar', so to speak."
"We will be putting out his light soon anyway," Wasp wields a crackling palm. That power works too.
Primed, U.S. Agent unlocks his idle hands and brandishes the shield from his back. "Okay, we are storming the Rowen. Here's the plan," Agent iterates, "First, we recon quickly and then communicate immediately via earpieces conveniently procured from our Quinjet. Then, with excellent improvisation, we fluidly confront, defeat, and foil our evil adversaries as Avengers always do."
"Do I try that building vent?" Wasp points.
Into the alleyway, the hotel air exchange juts, and it jets hot exhaust from the climate-controlled structure. Sans ado, Jan jets her shrunken body up the conduit. She hopes that AIM has not booby-trapped their ventilation system too much between ground and second floor.
Without a word, U.S. Agent but admires Wasp's outstanding initiative. The old team leader charged in before the present team leader could reply to her question. Good. "Greer and Bruce," John instructs, "Go through the establishment's front door incognito. Neither one of you should have creature features. Go to the front desk. You are the Mostros checking-in."
Banner and Nelson give each other an odd look. They give Walker one too.
The Captain continues, "Let's have Greer subtly break away from her 'husband' and find the stairs. Once on them, Tigra, transformed, swiftly seeks the second floor and sets outside the conference door. You can eavesdrop or crash the party, whatever is best."
"Meanwhile, am I trying to check-in before check-in/check-out time?" the doctor fastidiously checks.
The soldier sneers, "So f****** what if you are? Tell the desk clerk 'Don't make me. . . . ."
"Never mind," Bruce intercedes, "I shall simply guard the lobby. Any escaping villains won't like finding me there. Even in human form, they kind of fear me."
Walker moves along, "Speed, tear-ass up the terraces of this tower. Find an entrance. Cover the topside of our operation. Some super-scum is bound to try flying away." Like lightning, Speed sends himself from the ground to the sky.
Walker watches Tigra tap her talisman, transforming herself back to Greer. From his rucksack, he hands her a blouse, shorts, and flip-flops for temporary usage. He salutes her. The ex-cop salutes him back. U.S. Agent opens a steel door on the back of the Rowen building, and he uses the employee entrance to enter AIM territory. Hopefully, his conspicuous costume draws attention and any initial fire, for the super-soldier would love to see his squad successfully infiltrate the bad guys' hideout before they know what hit them.
A story above the Agent, Eve Necker commences the illicit commerce, "Welcome to the Rowen by the riverfront in St. Louis, sirs."
"Thank you, ma'am," Fixer replies, "You have a lovely Scottish brogue."
Bonny Necker winks, "Thank you. You have lovely American funds to offer AIM, and our organization appreciates that."
"What exactly does AIM have to offer us?" Mentallo inquires, "The original Mentallo's Helmet of Power from Kansas City?" Mentallo already knows what AIM brings.
"Do not be daft. Paul Destine was from Missouri; the Helmet of Power, a.k.a. the Serpent Crown, was not," Minion Duffy has a mind like a sharp computer.
Curtis Carr communicates, "You guys are getting argon."
Marvin acts surprised, "But sir, argon is one of the most common elements in our atmosphere."
Chemistro produces a lustrous canister, "You are getting one of the Elements of Doom, but I suspect that you currently already know such."
"He does," Fixer confirms, "He and I discussed the basics of this exchange earlier."
"Let me supply some specifics," Dr. Carr details, "The Elements of Doom are an army of mighty monsters created by Russian mad scientist Vasily Khandruvitch. Years back, he managed to make semi-autonomous humanoids from each of the periodic table's elements. These Elements of Doom have rampaged everywhere from Seversk, Russia to St. Louis, USA. And, in their four recorded forays, they have fought the Avengers thrice and once the Thunderbolts."
"I tend to remember the NYC encounter," Techno acknowledges, "An Element snapped my f***ing neck and actually killed me for a bit. But, I got better."
"C'est la vie. Such is the life of a supervillain," Grey Gargoyle grants, knowingly nodding.
Chemistro continues exposition, "The last time that the Elements were unleashed, kooky Khandruvitch was not their controller. AIM acquired the calamitous creatures. We set them loose on St. Louis to see what destruction our wild and weird weapons could do [see Avengers v.3 #56]. They did not disappoint. It took ten Avengers to battle the beasts until Iron Man and Beast kitbashed a deactivation device that decomposed the Doom constructs. Put-down, the Element sludge slide and sloshed into the storm sewers. AIM has been retrieving and reconstituting the melted monsters ever since, and the organization contracted Chemistro, me, engineer extraordinaire, to do so, of course."
"You are an alchemist of the highest order," Fixer admits, "You do feats that even I, the Fixer, cannot. The only people better at chemical conversion and matter manipulation are Molecule Man, King Midas, and—may I say—Grey Gargoyle."
All bad guys present have a good chuckle. Grey Gargoyle quips, "Yes, and the only 'stoners' surpassing me are mythical Medusa and the Asparagus People." Duval has visited deep space, and he knows the alien "Asparagus People", the D'bari. The gathered great goons continue to guffaw.
All of a sudden, Mentallo interrupts the mirth. "Red alert!" his thought instantly enters all seven minds.
"What is it?" Fixer thinks, "Is AIM about to f*** us, Marvin?"
"No," Flumm replies, "And, don't think that, Bert. I have connected all of our minds for a quick conference. You are on a partyline, so to speak." Fixer sees some glares and frowns from across the table.
"I detect our spying scout too," Plainsman saves Fixer from an awkward moment, "Some little critter is in the air vent. A competent nimrod senses such things, especially one cybernetically-enhanced."
"My parts also discern something," Minion mentally mentions, "My cerebral circuits connect to this building's security measures. Several have suddenly went down for some reason, but the vents' motion detectors perceive a big bug flying around in them."
"It is the Wasp," Mentallo tells, "My mind probe finds Jan van Dyne spying upon this meeting."
"The original Avenger is unlikely alone," Fixer informs all, "Marvin and I encountered her with Tigra, Speed, and Hulk yesterday. We thought that Mentallo's mindwipe had taken care of them."
"The Hulk is kind of a big deal," Grey Gargoyle shifts his stony posterior, "I even somewhat fear him. He once re-arranged me—literally [see Incredible Hulk #363]."
"I am kind of concerned about Speed's presence," Chemistro contributes, "The lad could lope into this lair like lightning and steal our canistered contraband before we even blink. Then, neither AIM nor the CSA has their dear s***."
"I am kinder concerned about Tigra," Plainsman puts-out, "My nose says that that pussycat is right outside the door of this here windowless room." Plainsman points, just in case his fellows do not know what a door is.
"Tigra is directly outside that door," Mentallo and Fixer simultaneously confirm. One scanned psychically, the other with a radar widget.
"Let us conclude our business," Dr. Necker directs, "Earth's Mightiest Heroes are fools for invading what is essentially AIM central. On the Mississippi River, we even have something dubbed 'Fin Fang Foom' that can handle the Hulk."
"Before smashing Hulk and other Avengers, let us process our sale," Mentallo suggests, "Then, we can stampede the Avengers, surge past them, and split-up on our way out."
Chemistro summarizes, "We 'lowlifes' bum-rush them and scatter ourselves."
"Sounds like a deal," Fixer says, "I have the financial transfer info memorized."
Mentallo transfers the transfer info to Necker and her assistant Minion. The internet installed in Duffy's dome delivers U.S. federal funds to a Swiss account. Chemistro transfers the canister to Fixer who hands the purchase to Plainsman who transfers the booty to a buckskin satchel. Fixer explains that Plainsman and Mentallo are about to make like members of the Pony Express while Fixer engages Avengers. The duo race the precious cargo to a safer locale. Fixer plans to meet them eventually there.
Overhead, Wasp has had her interest piqued for some time. For awhile, the convocation of villains has gone strangely silent, and Wasp wonders what they are up to. Over her communicator, Jan relays details to U.S. Agent and the other three Avengers. Expert strategist Agent speculates that Mentallo might have the entire group gabbing telepathically. But, he is unsure. He requests further observations.
Wasp watches Grey Gargoyle surreptitiously change his chair to an oddly-shaped boulder. She watches him swiftly rise and grip the boulder by an armrest "handle". He hurls the heavy object heartily.
"Tigra, look out!" Wasp audibly wails into her radio.