Chapter 14: Get High!
Elsewhere, a wee earlier on, Avenger Hank Pym engages the electromagnetic field of humanoid form known as Zzzax. Mutually standing stories high, they stare each other down as huge hailstones pelt and fall. Zzzax doesn't flinch, for he is intangible. Giant-Man doesn't flinch because Hank is tough as hell, and Dr. Pym designs a good protective suit. The wild welkin's wind whips and wallops the two with debris and water as an F-3 twister nears from but a football field away.
"I have you where I want you!" a superhero's stentorian boast bellows.
"Do na be priggish, Pym," a Scottish tongue unexpectedly emanates from Zzzax.
"Eve Necker?" Hank Pym asks.
"Ah," the entrapped intellect answers, "I discerned your design like any accomplished mental giant would, from a to zed. Then, I directed the Shepherd boy to zoot Zzzax to ye."
The sizzling fiend has a one-second seizure. Then, Speed speaks, "Actually, Eve and I collaborated to overcome Zzzax's Zen and zend—um, send—him to you. ZORT!" Zzzax spasms again.
"And, I now return!" the Living Dynamo retakes its dome, "Prepare to perish you . . . holy zh**! A zyclone!"
Prof. Pym smiles smugly in a shocked sap's face and shrinks swiftly down from mammoth to miniscule. The old Ant-Man experiences a major head-rush, but he manages to focus. He fleetly flees. Like a swashbuckler, the marvelous myrmidon has mere seconds to escape peril. Forsooth, the furious F-3 shall soon suck even the smallest life from the Musial Bridge. Pym sprints for the structure's side with perfect timing. He has perfect timing because a super-genius can easily calculate exactly when a given whirlwind wrecks where. Any other genius meteorologist need not apply.
Hank heaves himself from the great height over the rough river.
Out of the black night, a bounding Doc Samson propitiously snatches plummeting Pym from mid-air and delivers him safely to the Illinois shore. Many superheroes can have perfect timing.
Like deus ex machina, the whirlwind takes the titan on the bridge. The tornado hits. Reinforced concrete crumbles and collapses into circling, clattering clutter. Road rails crumple and curve into chrome-covered skewers. One tags the titan and spectacularly sparks live static. Suspension lines sever into several serpentine switches swaying chaotically in the clamorous, coming curtain of wind. For a sec, Zzzax cants his chin and considers escape. He canvasses the carousel of cables and consciously conceives his crisis. Those lines are iron, copper, cobalt, and every other conductor under the clouds. They could cancel Zzzax catastrophically. The concerned creature cranks his can around quickly. But, the charging cyclone is also swift.
The careening calamity catches Zzzax. The counterclockwise commotion casts capering cables through the coruscating creature as it clouts him with winds and cargo clocking three hundred kph. Curling cables capture the Living Dynamo in all of his quarters, and centrifugal force threatens to shred the struggling thing that the super-scientist suckered to the suspension bridge.
Cables cut cruelly crisscross through the entity's incorporeal core. Copper and iron capture Zzzax's current and cart his "flesh" to the winds. The crackling composite cries in cognition of his critical quandary. An anchored cord cricks his carpus and cracks his arm clean off. A cable clobbers his chest and cops some charge away. Zzzax keens wretchedly. A cable collars him and half-crops his crop, cutting his voice. Half-decapitated, Zzzax clutches his cocked cabbage, keeping it attached. Coupled lines excoriate keister, and the crazed Kaiser carps. A second cable slices Zzzax's center, and his core collapses. He contorts and caterwauls cupping his caved-in trunk. A coppery knout cleaves Zzzax's coconut clear through his cabeza. Feeling crummy, poor King Clod keels over and collapsesto the causeway. A cornucopia of killer wires carry clumps of creature excruciatingly away. The capitulating construct comes apart in kaleidoscopic clusters until the decomposed cad resembles something crushed through a colander. The incapacitated carcass scatters to the shearing winds. The kooky consciousness croaks. Upon dying, Zzzax coughs-up the consciousness of a criminal Caledonian and a cruising kid's too.
The tornado casts the cables, Zzzax, and an entire collage of debris far and wide across the countryside from Kirkwood to Kampville, Missouri.
Later, after the clock advances a few, tuckered Avengers take the time to aid Damage Control in disaster clean-up. St. Louis city crews appreciate the support. Of late, the Lou has endured flash flooding, two respective monster rampages, and a tornado. Its citizens could use some superhuman assistance with the significant destruction. At this midnight hour, Missourians are happy to see heroes helping.
A news crew broadcasts the Avengers' benevolence for viewers to see. Reporter Harmony Whyte and cameraman Raf Abrams used to cover aspiring adventurer the Human Fly. They are pleased to present this evening august Spider-Woman and her amazing friends. The journalists extol and interview Earth's Mightiest Heroes briefly before throwing it to St. Louis' Jack McGee at Lafayette Square—where he has just missed the Hulk.
Still, amidst the amity and appreciation, one hero shakes his head. U.S. Agent carps, "Christ, the press! We could have kept this covert operation better concealed. I feel like punching somebody! Even though I already did a lot of that tonight."
"True," Bruce Banner oversees operations a bit. He has a good eye for engineering.
Although, Hank Pym does too. Over Banner, Giant-Man encourages all, "Oh, buck up, everyone!"
"Why?" Tigra sorely slogs hefty trash to a Damage Control dumpster. Anyone can see that she is dinged-up after dual battles.
"Because, we are A-Force, a force to be reckoned with!" Spider-Woman slings steel scrap over her shoulder, "We can do it!"
"And, huzzah! We have defeated Zzzax according to my calculations" Pym proclaims, congratulating himself.
"Oh," the Cat sulks and skulks off.
"Well-done," Wasp compliments Giant-Man. Jan always gets a kick out of Hank.
Wasp wields a cold bottled water to Doc Samson. She slips the icy item into his pocket, for his hands are occupied. Strong Samson carries a car over his head. The Sterling Motors vehicle stalled out on the inundated interstate, so Leonard walks the full-size sedan to the flatbed rig that will take it away. He will get another auto after this one. The Stan Musial Veterans Memorial Bridge has plenty of them. They constitute part of the mess that superheroes must clear before restoring the bridge. Incredibly, the Avengers intend to reclaim, repair, and re-open the expanse within the hour.
Samson strolls back, and he passes Doorman helping dispose of debris. DeMarr "Doorman" Davis draws in dangerous dreck that Damage Control's Jim Palmetto spots. In other words, the Living Portal gets to suck-up the highway's hazardous waste like a damn dredge and deposit it into proper containers elsewhere. Seemingly, a Great Lakes Avenger's dirty duty and drudgery are never done.
From on high, Giant-Man's voice speaks while standing stalwartly in the rushing Mississippi. He lauds the laborers, "You are doing a good job. Keep it up. Keep cleaning the causeway." Weltering water wallops his wide legs in their wondrous wetsuit.
Jan helps Hank inspire, "Soon, we can use Gene Strausser's spiffy stopgap to reconnect the bisected roadway."
Pym praises, "Indeed, I like Damage Control's r&d man. He provided his pal Palmetto with substitute street that expands to fill any fractured roadway, and he even shrunk the stuff with Pym particles, which I find particularly flattering. We can replace the missing section of the Musial memorial momentarily."
"You Avengers are good at assembling," Jim Palmetto quips.
In short order, the assembled have made the route ready for restoration. Giant-Man, Spider-Woman, Doc Samson, and U.S. Agent each take a corner of the F-3's fissure. Hank's enlarged arm extends to the middle of the gap. Gritting his teeth, Hank enlarges the implement in his hand. It quickly grows heavy on his stretched extremity, and he strains to lower it gracefully to his group.
"Each take a corner," Captain America takes charge, although everyone knows already the plan.
"The placement looks good over here," Dr. Banner oversees the engineering operation at Doc Samson's shoulder. Bruce would love to add his inner strength to the endeavor. But, his contused colleagues request that he simply stay calm after recent events, and abashed Banner isn't angry over the instruction.
"Things look good over here too," Jan van Dyne acts the part of director while Doorman dabbles with darkforce behind her. If need be, he can help support Strausser's tool. Likewise, Tigra stands near Samson should she need try the same.
The trusty truss fits the fracture nearly perfectly when the four powerhouses place it. Amazingly, the cement section expands like living, aware putty afterward. Nanotech knits the new slab to the existing span, and the Musial's 1500-foot length is restored. Six "boys" and three "girls" jig about the "darned" deck. Whyte and Abrams broadcast the happy scene to what area houses have power after the storm. The ebullient Assembled exchange high-fives and ass smacks.
"Damage Control can take the pontine project from here," Jim Palmetto pronounces, "The company can stay to reconnect the span's severed stays."
"Stays are the cables on a cable-stayed bridge such as the Stan Musial Veterans Memorial," Dr. Pym proudly educates the "uneducated".
"And, the bridge was completed in 2014 and stands 435-feet tall and eight-six-feet wide," testy Tigra speaks nasally and pushes pretend glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Psychiatrist Samson shakes his head and smirks. He heedfully redirects everyone. Raising an aqua, Leonard toasts, "Let this joint project provide the bridge to our next opportunities then. Mazltof!"
Dr. Banner bats his eyes at the bad wordplay. "But, what should the Avengers and allies' next move be?" Bruce asks.
From out the blue, a green streak breaks the blackish night. Speed skids to a halt amongst his comrades. In his arms, the hearty mutant hefts American Eagle, and the marvelous mutate hops from his holder. Jason looks like hammered crap. But, a metahuman can apparently heal quickly over a few hours. He looks less lousy than when an ambulance took him away.
Standing straight, Strongbow curls his fat lips and crinkles his crooked nose beneath his shiner. His one good peeper stares daggers at Bruce Banner. But, Jason just keeps smiling. A hero understands that a Hulk can't help but smash others. American Eagle ambles to his recent ass-kicking opponent. He thrusts his motorcycle helmet hard into Banner's chest.
"I should've worn this accessory to my costume [see Thunderbolts #112] when we clashed," Jason joshes, "Now, because I didn't, I can't. My damn head is too swollen."
"Well, I assure you that I do not have a swollen head over the situation," sheepish Bruce states. He has had too many of these awkward post-fight conversations over the years.
Tigra rescues blushing Banner, "I am simply glad to see you doing well, Eagle. For example, you don't sound too loopy." The Cat catches the battered birdman and pets his breast.
Green Tommy takes in the sensuous scene and scowls slightly, despite himself. Ever hot-to-trot, and a little naïve, Young Avenger Speed imagines having Tigra to himself. However, he dallies on daydreams not long.
Rather, he shouts to get everyone's attention—including Tigra's. "Hey!" hollers he, "American Eagle has somethings to say. Howabout he comes over here and apprises us."
Strongbow steps away from Greer and Bruce. He strolls to the middle of the street. The Avengers circle in loose assembly.
"I have interrogated AIM's Chemistro," Eagle announces, "He wound-up at the same hospital that the City of St. Louis took me."
Agent chuckles, "I bet that interview included its 'enhanced methods'."
"Nah, a Navajo never uses such tactics unless necessary. Maybe, you do," one all-American admonishes another, "Actually, Curtis Carr contains some hero to him. He provided leads on his AIM associates right and left."
"Or, he is really pissed that MODOK nearly killed him," Spider-Woman supports Agent's snark, "So, he doesn't mind finking on fellows, for the Avengers will avenge him a bit."
"Either way," Tigra interjects, "I would not mind tracking-down Chemistro's chums and cutting them short." The cantankerous werewoman whips her claws about.
"An Angel of Death could go for such action as well," Doorman affirms the Cat's ire.
Wasp rolls her eyes at her allies' uncivilized animosity, "Anyway, what information do you have for us, American Eagle?"
Jason Strongbow shares his scuttlebutt. The others recount their evenings too and analyze events. The Avengers, Doc Samson, and American Eagle figure that they must apprehend Fixer. He got away. They further figure that they should determine Mentallo, MODOK, Grey Gargoyle, and Eve Necker's fates. Each is probably not conveniently dead. So, the good guys should find those four. And, the champions should check-in on Barney Fiddler and Plainsman. Quite likely, the CSA has kindly snuck those two problem kids back into the public. Fortunately, Zzzax is indubitably dispersed, and Chemistro is dinged-up and detained.
Hank Pym proposes, "We ten assembled should split-up to pursue the several parties who could be scattered from Scotland to St. Louis to St. Joseph and beyond."
"Yeah! For them, the end is nigh!" Captain Ultra suddenly lands amidst his colleagues.
Ultra is hours late and a dollar short. And, his "superhero landing" quakes the still unstable span. Rattled, his annoyed colleagues stare him down a few seconds. They also glare because Ultra's costume is ever goofy.
Finally, U.S. Agent guffaws, "I would have preferred that Hyperion be our man of steel. But okay."
Giant-Man assesses the ersatz superman. Dr. Pym assigns him so, "Say, you have heat vision and true flight. You could assist Damage Control with sealing stays into place while staying here while the rest of us go get evildoers."
Congenial Captain Ultra comments, "I like to help."