Red America: Western Front
Chapter Eleven: Locked & Loaded
Commissar-Colonel Elisabeth Braddock wrinkled her nose in disgust at the stench that filled the tunnel which she and her ten-man squad were now walking through. Above her, she could hear the crunching footsteps of Stark's Iron Man suit as it followed her at street level. Once again, she wondered how on earth Stark had managed to keep something that conspicuous hidden for so long, and decided that she would definitely have words with the security co-ordinator for this city when this particular problem had been dealt with. Putting a finger to her earpiece (since Stark's new telepathy-dampening cockpit protection – which she had only discovered when they had left the base – had given her a nasty headache the first and only time she had tried to transmit to him psychically), she said "Do you have to be so bloody noisy, Comrade Stark?" She heard that infuriating chuckle of his on the other end of the link, and all of a sudden the noise seemed to vanish. On the other end of the link, Stark began an exasperatingly lengthy explanation of how his suit's sonic inhibitors were able to easily dampen the sound of the metal behemoth's footsteps, but Elisabeth took her hand off her earpiece and heard the transmission cut out almost instantly, enjoying the notion that Stark would be highly annoyed at not being able to show somebody how tremendously intelligent and capable he was for once. Returning her attention to the tunnel ahead of her, she saw the point man of the squad hunker down on his haunches and start sniffing the air like a wolf catching a scent. He turned back towards the rest of the squad, enthusiastically telling them that he could smell the rebels approaching, and Elisabeth was sure that she could see slight traces of foamy spittle at the corners of his mouth as she sensed the man's mind blossoming with animal emotion, all bloodlust and eagerness for the kill. She drew her pistol and followed after the rest of her squad, who she hoped would show a little more self-control when the time came to actually engage the rebels in combat. After all, this was only the latest in a series of concerning moments since she had led her squad down here – some of her squad had wanted to charge ahead of the others when they had dropped down the manhole, and would have done so had she not barked an abrupt order for them to halt, and reinforced it by freezing their muscles psionically. Then there had been the moment when two of her soldiers had looked like they were about to start yelling at each other for the right to be the point man, as if they were wolves arguing over who would be the leader of their pack. She wondered briefly if it was the atmosphere of the sewer getting to them, but then discounted that theory as absurd – clearly, Doctor Pym's selection of test subjects must have been limited to the lower end of her soldiers, the thugs, rejects and killers who were thoroughly expendable. She supposed that she should have words with him about his selection process in the future, since she didn't relish the prospect of losing control when it mattered the most. Then again, if they were the best instrument for this mission, there was nothing she could do about that.
Lieutenant Wagner appeared at her side as the squad jogged swiftly down the tunnel, following the soldier who had first caught the scent, and gave her a concerned look. "Comrade-Colonel?" he said cautiously. "What will we do when we have intercepted the rebels?"
"Kill them," Elisabeth replied bluntly. "And if we can't do that by ourselves, we'll drive them up to ground level, and that arrogant idiot Stark will tear them to pieces with that metal monstrosity of his. Either way, Comrade Wagner, they're dead men." She blinked as a thought struck her suddenly. "Lieutenant, I want you to move ahead of the squad. Teleport back here if you find anything... interesting. I don't want these men running into any booby-traps – certainly not in the state they're in. I'm not in the mood to watch all of Dr Pym's hard work go to waste, after all."
"Ja, Comrade-Colonel," Lieutenant Wagner said, and in an instant he was gone, a puff of pungent vapour all that was left in his place. Elisabeth wrinkled her nose as the smoke wafted down the tunnel past her, its thick sulphurous stench almost making her gag.
Suddenly, up ahead of her, she heard one of the men howling, and she snapped her head up to see the point man running virtually on all fours, his hands flexing open and closed, almost like claws extending from and retracting into their sheathes, and his rifle hanging off his shoulder, forgotten. The bloodlust she had sensed only a moment before was almost boiling over in his mind, and Elisabeth knew she had to control him before he gave them all away. Raising a hand, she clenched it tightly, the action giving her mind a focus as it closed tightly around the point man's brain. Gurgling in shock, he lost his balance and sprawled into the filth on the floor of the tunnel, before pushing himself back to his feet, his teeth still bared and his hair wild, like an animal.
Elisabeth moved up through the ranks of the men, her face a mask of fury, and stood in front of the point man, who from his uniform she saw was called Private Whitman, and then punched him hard in the gut, knocking him right back to the ground, where he lay wheezing and struggling to catch his breath. "You idiot!" she hissed, enraged. "Do you want the whole world to know we're coming? This is supposed to be a surprise attack – how do you think those rebels are going to react if they hear you screaming at them?"
Private Whitman coughed, pushing himself to his feet again and spitting a bloody mouthful of phlegm onto the ground as his lip sealed itself almost instantaneously. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, ashamed. "I don't know what came over me."
"I'm sure you don't," Elisabeth said, her voice dripping scorn. "Now get back in line – you obviously can't be trusted to take point any longer." Looking over at the lithe, statuesque form of Corporal Walters, she said "You seem more appropriate for the position, wouldn't you say, Corporal?"
"I'll trust your judgement, Commissar Braddock," Corporal Walters replied with the merest hint of a smile, and moved to the head of the squad, her rifle slung at her waist and her gaze scanning the tunnel ahead of her with a calm, measured efficiency. Elisabeth cursed herself for not using her in this capacity before – she was virtually the only soldier in the squad who hadn't succumbed to the curious bloodlust that the other soldiers were experiencing, but since she had stripes on her arm, it had seemed pertinent not to risk an officer, even a non-commissioned one like Walters. And since Walters was still capable of subtlety, it seemed sensible to give her some more responsibility.
For a moment, Elisabeth wondered if Corporal Walters was being spared the loss of control her other soldiers were experiencing simply because she was a woman, and Doctor Pym's serum was affecting her in a slightly different way. She didn't recall seeing anything like this when Corporal Walters had been training after being injected with the new serum, either, which leant some credence to the theory, but Elisabeth decided that such ideas would only be fully tested when contact was made with the rebels and the bullets started flying.
Something to look forward to, she thought, as she watched Corporal Walters padding softly down the tunnel ahead of her. Then we'll see how good I am at predictions.
David North looked across at the beautiful woman who had just commandeered the seat opposite him, who had introduced herself as Emma Frost, and couldn't fail to notice how immaculately-groomed she was. Her short blonde hair was arranged in a functional bob and held in place with a couple of clips in order to stop it falling into her face, and her fingernails were clipped short with immaculate precision. Her face was delicately rouged, which he found especially unusual for a Red Army officer, and her cat-like blue eyes glittered brightly in the harsh light of the mess hall. He coughed, realising he might look as if he was staring, and said hurriedly "My name's David – David North. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand a little too quickly, which Emma took with a broad smile, obviously realising the effect she was having on him.
"Nice to meet you too, David – David North," she chuckled. "So how long have you been stationed here?"
"I came here about five years ago," David said, with a genuine amount of honesty. "I was transferred from Canada and ended up in an infantry unit here. I go where I'm told, after all."
Emma smiled faintly. "Don't we all," she purred, her eyebrows flickering upwards for a second or two as she paused to take a sip of coffee from her steel mug. "If it wasn't for the fact that I'm supposed to be working with Henry Pym, I'd be really resentful that I was moved; my last project was something that really interested me, so I didn't enjoy being taken away from it."
"What kind of project was it?" David asked, curiosity sparking in his mind despite himself. Emma sighed, and took another brief sip of coffee, pausing to lick a stray droplet off her lower lip.
"I was working on a way to map the human genome. High Command wants to know if we can artificially induce mutant powers in our soldiers – apparently the few natural superhumans that the Red Army has managed to locate aren't enough for their tastes, so I was supposed to help them find a way to create their own. After all, Dr Pym's current research might be paying dividends right now, but who's to say it won't go wrong in the future? It's always nice to have a back-up plan, don't you think?"
Got that right. Maybe I should mention that to Wade and see where it gets me, David thought bitterly. Aloud, he said "I wouldn't know – I've never had a plan go wrong on me yet." Emma laughed then, a delicate, musical sound, and reached out with a hand to squeeze David's arm, much to his surprise.
"Of course you haven't," she said. "I know you men don't like to admit you're ever wrong, so I'll let you have that one for now."
"Thanks," David said, trying to keep his confusion as veiled as possible. "I'll bear that in mind, I guess."
"Good boy," Emma said, wrinkling her nose at him, before she glanced at her watch and frowned blackly. "Damn it," she cursed. "Look, I have to get back to work now, but if you're not busy later, perhaps we could continue this discussion? I'd like to get to know somebody around here through doing something other than just memorising their faces and name tags. What do you say?"
"I'd love to," David replied, hearing the words coming out of his mouth almost before he thought about saying them. "I've got an extended period of R & R at the moment, so I don't have any kind of real duty for the next eight days." Emma grinned.
"Great. I'll see you here at six p.m., then?"
"Sure. Looking forward to it," David said, still not knowing why he was agreeing with her when his situation was so precariously balanced, and then watched Emma walk away, her hips delicately swaying as she picked her way effortlessly through the throng of off-duty troops. When she was gone, he got up from his seat after finishing his sandwich and returned to where Wade was busily assembling a couple of blocks of plastic explosive, complete with detonators and timers. David shook his head as he saw that Wade's mouth had a little bit of drying froth at each corner, as if he had got a little too interested in what he'd been doing, and that he hadn't appeared to notice when the door had opened behind him. David took one step into the room, and Wade instantly swung round, a pistol appearing in his hand almost out of thin air. When he saw that it was nobody suspicious, he raised the gun and smiled a slightly unhinged smile.
"You're lucky I wasn't in the mood to shoot someone, Dave. Enjoy your meal?" he asked, slipping the pistol back into the waistband of his fatigues and turning back to his work.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did," David replied, flexing his knuckles a little and beginning to examine one of Wade's explosive works of art, holding it up in front of his face between finger and thumb. "As a matter of fact, I met somebody, and she's going to meet me later today."
What looked like abject panic flashed across Wade's face like a lightning bolt. "What?" he asked, incredulous. "Are you serious? What if she finds us here?"
"She won't," David reassured him. "I'm not so dumb that I'd lead her right here and gift-wrap this whole operation for her. Even if she was KGB, she couldn't have figured out anything from what we talked about."
Wade scowled. "Don't bet your life on that. Seriously, man, you can't do this." He stalked forwards and held his pistol out in front of his face, training it on the centre of David's chest before shifting aim down towards David's groin. There was an audible click as his thumb turned the safety catch off, and David could suddenly feel cold, sticky sweat creeping down the back of his neck. "Don't do it, or I swear I'll blow your balls off right here. Lot of good you'd be without those, right?"
There was a moment of tense silence before David held his hands up in submission. "Okay, I won't go through with it. Satisfied?"
"For now," Wade replied, raising his pistol and flipping the safety back on, before holstering it and turning back to his explosives. "Don't give me a reason to change my mind – we're too close to finishing this to let anything get in the way..."
Kitty wiped her brow and then checked her rifle's magazine agitatedly, for the tenth time in as many minutes. The closer her squad got to the end of the sewer tunnel, the more nervous she was becoming, and that was a feeling she didn't enjoy at all. Soon they'd be forced to go back above ground, and that was where the problems would start. If they survived the trek across the country, she'd have to explain to Logan that Tony Stark had bolted from her rescue mission, and that she'd had to pull her team out for their own safety, even without their target. That was something she didn't relish – the old man was a good friend, but he also had a vicious temper. Kitty had lost count of the times she'd seen him slashing at the walls of the current rebel base with those weird bone claws of his, leaving long, jagged furrows the width of her finger in the crumbling brickwork, and had also lost count of the times she'd felt relieved that he was doing that instead of killing good people. The resistance was dangerously low on manpower as it was, especially superhuman manpower, and the last thing it needed was for Logan to be slaughtering his own men for making a mistake. She shook her head and noticed for the first time how tightly her fingers were clasped around the barrel and grip of her rifle, her knuckles white under the thinning, dirty gloves she wore. She unclenched them with some effort, and then glanced over at Danny and Tabby, who were engaged in a game of some sort, each of them taking turns to aim at cockroaches and pull the triggers of their safety-locked weapons.
"Knock that off right now," she hissed. "Take your safeties off, both of you. I don't want you idiots to come up short if the Ivans show up. It's bad enough we have Russkies around every corner; we don't need to shoot ourselves in the foot as well. Got it?" Chastised, Danny & Tabby bowed their heads meekly and slid their safety catches off with muffled clicks. "Good," Kitty said, before turning back to look down the tunnel. Up ahead, it curved sharply to the right, a small tributary of sludgy filth trickling down the trough in the middle of the bricks making up the floor. Kitty held up a hand and clenched her fist, bringing the squad to a halt. "Wait," she said in a low voice, suddenly suspicious. "You guys wait here. Jamie, can you keep these guys under control for a while?"
"I can try," Madrox replied, swinging his rifle up and aiming at an invisible dot on the wall in front of him. He looked over at Clint, who was leaning casually against the wall of the sewer and flipping a one-rouble coin over and over with his finger and thumb. "Hey, laughing boy – I want you up here with me. Cover the tunnel behind us; I'm sure you don't want any nasty surprises coming to bite us in the ass any more than I do, so get to it." He punched his fist into his open palm and another Jamie popped into existence beside him, before leaning against the wall and mimicking Clint's previous pose. "Besides, if anybody's going to goof off here, it's going to be me." Kitty stifled a laugh, and then crept away down the tunnel, keeping herself intangible as a precaution. What she saw up ahead of her made her blood run cold – it was a blue-furred demon in a Russian army uniform, his pointed tail trailing along the side of the tunnel as he walked cautiously down it, a pistol clenched in his two-fingered right hand. His gleaming yellow eyes focused on her at almost the same instant, glowing in the dark like hot coals, and then he vanished into thin air just as Kitty opened fire. A cloud of foul-smelling smoke was the only thing that Kitty managed to hit with her wild spray of bullets, and it made her sick to her stomach to realise that that... creature... probably had at least a couple of soldiers as back-up. She had no intention of letting the Soviets get her, though – not when she was this close to escaping this city and getting back to the underground. It was just a question of covering her tracks a little better now, that was all.
Howling noises from a little further down the tunnel made her snap her head up. She would have mistaken them for wolves, if there hadn't been occasional words dropped in amongst the screams. What the hell's going on? she thought, before she heard a pair of gunshots ring out from behind her. Figuring that what was going on behind her was far more important than what was coming down the tunnel, she turned and ran back to where she'd left her squad... only to run right into Clint, who sprinted right through her phased form, a wisp of smoke still trailing from the barrel of his rifle. "Wait!" she called. "Wait, you stupid asshole! You don't know what they've got back there –"
"Kitty!" she heard Madrox call, finally, and she moved rounded the corner to find her squad kneeling round Danny's prone body. Two fist-sized holes were punched in the boy's abdomen and chest, and they were leaking blood faster than Cecilia's meagre supply of medical gauze could staunch it, a sticky crimson pool forming around his pale, motionless form.
"Come on, kid, help me! Don't give up!" Cecilia urged him as she fought to stop the bleeding. "For fuck's sake, Danny, help me! I can't do this by myself!" Throwing aside the gauze, she started to pump his chest, hoping to get his heart started again, before blowing air into his blood-rimmed mouth and repeating the process a few times before she realised nothing was happening. She rocked backwards onto her haunches and ran her hands over her tear-streaked face twice, taking a few deep breaths as she did so. Placing a hand on Danny's chest, she murmured something in Spanish and then covered his face with the hood of his coat, before pushing herself to her feet and drawing her .45 pistol. "Goodbye, kid," she rasped hoarsely. "I'll kill him for you."
As she did so, Kitty turned to Madrox and said "What –"
Madrox shook his head, before giving her the answer she knew she was going to get anyway. "Clint was with the Russkies all along – he said as much before he killed Danny. He was probably feeding them information the entire time he was with us."
"Jesus," Kitty breathed, putting a hand over her mouth and nose for a second. "He must have been laughing his ass off at how fucking stupid we all were."
"So what are we gonna do?" Jubilation said, her dirty face glancing down the tunnel at the approaching howls. "Should we go back?"
"No, we can't do that either," Kitty replied. "That bastard probably got the Ivans to cut off any kind of retreat, too, so going back's no good either."
"So what, then?" Jubilation asked, her eyes looking increasingly frantic as the howls got closer. Kitty unhooked one of her pistols from her waistband and threw it to the trembling girl, whose flailing hands somehow managed to catch the gun without dropping it.
"We fight," Kitty said simply. "Stick with Cecilia or me, and you should be fine. Use that if you need to."
"Are you nuts?" Jubilation asked, incredulous. "I don't know how to use a gun!"
"Point it at something and pull the trigger," Kitty snapped. "Come on, everybody –"
"Well, well, well," said a horribly familiar voice behind her. Kitty turned slowly, to see Commissar-Colonel Braddock standing in the tunnel in front of a snarling mass of bestial-looking troopers, with the blue-furred demon-man stood at her right and Clint stood at her left as she posed in a theatrical bow, her peaked cap in one outstretched hand. "I do believe we meet again, Comrade Pryde. I trust you won't try to run away from me this time?" She leaned over towards Clint and kissed him deeply on the lips, her gloved hands cupping his face as she did so. "Clint here was kind enough to lead me to you, after all, so I'd hate to throw away all his good work..."