Author's Notes: My updates will be erratic. Sorry. My brother-in-law snapped his spine in half during a car crash yesterday and, well, things are hectic here now. So. Anyways, enjoy the next chapter and don't forget to review. :)
Disclaimer: Ultimate Spider-Man is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. That's Marvel's job. Any Original Characters and art you note, however, are all me. No. I'm not making money. Don't rub it in.
Chapter 04 - Dogs
Man, did Ava Ayala hate Batroc the Leaper. Everything about him—from costume to personality—grated on her nerves like slow torture. So, keeping a light scoff in when the Frenchman sought refuge at Power Man's feet had been impossible. Rolling her eyes behind her mask, the white-clad heroine paid little mind to the snarling Six Arms that charged after the Leaper. She jumped out of the way just as Power Man mentioned something about a rematch. But she didn't have the luxury to tell for sure; she was already preoccupied with a kick hurling her way.
Child's play.
Ava grasped the ankle of a thigh-high boot and smirked, even though Smokescreen could only sense the action. The pale-skinned mutant snarled in return, directing the length of her black-painted fingernails at Ava's face. A slight burn numbed the cheek she managed to brush—despite its coverage—and in mild panic Ava jerked back with a hiss. In turn, the heroine charged her own claws that lashed out violently at Smokescreen, who managed to avoid the blows by twirling in ways Ava never noticed on Monday.
"This one's an escape artist," Spider-Man chimed beside Ava's head. No doubt he hung upside down, though the young woman couldn't fathom just what allowed him to do so in the middle of the street.
"Yeah, didn't notice, Webs!" she replied through labored breathes.
Fwip! A glob of web fluid raced past Ava and glued Smokescreen's boots to the cracked road. When she tripped backwards, Ava seized the opportunity to land a coveted slice across the mutant's face then about laughed at the strangled squeal she made while hitting the ground.
"Don't you know better than to aggravate a tiger?" the heroine asked cheekily. But Spider-Man hummed and she turned to him with a huff. "What, Spidy?"
"We need to find a way to cool her; this is about to get worse."
"What are you talking about? She's out."
"Oh, you damn lot have no idea what you're messing with," Smokescreen hissed in a stronger accent. Part of her sleeveless shirt and pants—including the webbing at her feet—began to deteriorate as a cloud of smoke seeped from the mutant's mouth. Though she rose slowly, Ava remained stationed with Spider-Man, unsure if the cloud was super heated or not.
"Don't you just love it when I'm right?" asked Spider-Man, light.
Ava meant to send him a look—as good as one can get when masked—but a sudden stream of bright blue energy met Smokescreen's exposed midriff before the heroine's head ever turned. The black-haired mutant landed hard on her back and kicked up dirt debris as her body skid a good distance. Her recovery was quick; however, a second, third, and fourth beam forced her through the cracked structure of a quaint Oriental store like the unlucky victim of a video game. Two more beams followed and Ava had to twist out of the street tactfully to avoid them.
"What the hell, Nova?" she screamed at her teammate while whirling to face him. In the air Nova jerked about from one way to the other, twitching. Behind her mask Ava's brows furrowed. She watched the male's arms flail and when he released another series of strong blasts, the heroine dashed into the street just below him.
"Oi, Bucket-Head" she cried in a voice that barely carried over the ruckus of Iron Fist, Six Arms, and Power Man. "What are you even aiming at?"
"Doesn't have to be anything," noted Spider-Man while landing on a crushed table beside Eva. He didn't pause long before he shot a web line towards an opposing building face, the air around him darkening to a rare level. "It's Trickster," he added blandly. "Iron Fist and Power Man have their hands full, so you find him. I'll subdue Sparky."
"I don't even see Trickster!" Ava's glare fell on the hero's back, though. Huffing, she scanned around Nova in reach of what caused his strange behavior. Useless. She thought she saw a distortion in the space behind him, only a force knocked her clean off balance. Shoulder scraping against the asphalt, the heroine recovered by twisting her body so that she landed on her hands and feet just after crashing into an overturned table. A quick glance ahead left a deep frown on her face and a growl in her throat.
"Where's that fucking bug friend of yours?" Smokescreen snarled. Her bright eyes scanned the area and Ava snorted when the mutant vainly tried ripping thick chunks of webbing off her burnt clothes.
"Trouble with spiders?" Ava questioned smoothly.
"Oh, not for long."
More smoke generated around Smokescreen, seeping like dragon's breath. The pale young woman smirked darkly as its density grew and grew until a large body broadsided her lithe form like a football player. For a moment, Ava thought it had been Power Man, but a glimpse of four extra limbs convinced her otherwise. The Caulfield siblings flew through an already damaged window face and as additional shards of glass crunched, a sudden scream filled the street.
"Nova, stop!"
Ava turned. And her stomach dropped.
The heavy grinding of metal preceded a sickening chorus of sobs from a pinned couple amongst the debris beside the block's corner. Nova had sliced an iron sign from its high support in spite of Spider-Man's attempt to ground him. The damaged piece—which easily stood taller than two grown men—descended with the intensity of a time bomb.
Since a malfunction in Spider-Man's web shooters stuck him to Nova's hands while the flyer crash-landed overhead and Iron Fist was busy fighting thin air, Ava knew not even Power Man could reach the civilians on time. Pure dread kept her legs in place longer than it should have and in slow motion she dashed for the couple that she had little hope of reaching.
Outwards she stretched her hand, except a dull shade of purple tinted her vision. She paused several feet from a—for lack of better words—bubble that had encased part of the road. It diverted both Power Man's charge and the heavy sign to the side, away from the whimpering civilians inside. Ava blinked as the bubble flickered then faded to reveal one figure more than she had noticed before—a curly-locked female with a frightened looked across her heavily freckled face. Her semi-tan skin seemed to pale several shades when she noticed Ava's inquiring gaze; however, a snarl from behind was probably a likelier cause.
"Oh, there you are, little witch!" Smokescreen cried while barreling past Ava.
Ava immediately sliced her electric claws through the air. Smokescreen spun from grasp, though, sparing only a dirty look before continuing after the head of white hair that already left the couple. Smokescreen's quick steps cut off the new mutant's escape route in seconds. The freckled female skidded to a halt right onto her butt, stopping at Smokescreen's damaged boots. Her hands rose in defense and, with them, so did another purple bubble. Smokescreen's immediate punch bounced right back as if she had hit a trampoline, so she prepared for a second. That fist met with the open palm of a blonde male.
He appeared suddenly with the crisp crackle of electricity and he retaliated with a punch of his own. Its electric force sent Smokescreen sailing backwards in the air as if she had touched a live transformer with a metal rod. Her smoking body rolled to a motionless heap in the neighboring street. Then the blonde turned to Ava.
"Stay away from my sister," he snarled—Midwestern accent clear. His face would have been attractive—with his Roman nose, strong chin, and striking icy blue eyes—if it weren't for his contorted scowl. And raggedy clothes.
"Kevin," the white-haired teen started from the ground, "she wasn't—"
"What did I tell you about blowing our cover?" Kevin snapped back as cold as his glare.
"But—"
"Oh, I don't care, Z. We would be at our goal by now if it weren't for those three; we can't afford giving them more chances." Kneeling, Kevin helped his sister up effortlessly then kept her close.
"Wait, you two are from Enderlin, aren't you?" Ava inquired as she rested a hand on Kevin's covered shoulder. The blonde charged up just enough for Ava's arm to retract with a terrible tingle.
"Hey now, not need for violence, Sparks," Spider-Man spoke while flipping to land beside the trio. "I know we still have The Trackers to deal with. But after that, all we want is to talk. Okay?"
Kevin twisted towards the approaching hero, his scowl darkening. "Yeah, sure," he said in a clearly caustic manner. "Says Fury's search dogs."
"Hold up." Spider-Man paused just beside the teleporter. "So you know Fury already?"
Zap! The hero received a reply in form an electrified grasp. Ava retaliated with a growl above her comrade's scream as she swiped Kevin across his sullied T-shirt instinctually. The blonde released Spider-Man, reaching for his new wound. In this time, Ava twisted behind to enhance her spin kick, which landed on Kevin's solid side so hard he also spun. The male stumbled, but didn't fall. And heavy footsteps from behind drew his attention.
"Touch her, Caulfield," started Kevin bitterly in complete disregard of Ava, "and I'll make sure your sister's heart stops next time."
Six Arms—who Ava had turned against in defense—ceased his charge several strides away. Glaring, he glanced at his fallen sister still lying uncomfortably in the street like a dropped rag doll. A moment passed. After another clear glare, he headed for his sister's direction while backing up in caution—mainly directed towards Kevin and not Ava.
"Trickster, we're going!" he called out.
"Aw, but I was just having more fun with the glowy one," a whimsical voice answered.
There was a sudden weight that landed on Ava's tense shoulder, startling her into a defensive stance. She glanced forward at Trickster's horrible fashion sense then grimaced as the man turned to give a sickening wink at her prior to meeting his accomplice at Smokescreen's side.
"Hey, we ain't done with you yet!" Power Man bellowed near Ava's side.
The powerhouse stampeded forward even though the trio had already disappeared down the road. He stopped when Kevin manifested before him. The pale mutant glared behind the blinding display of electricity around his muscular form. Power Man raised a fist, but like with Smokescreen, Kevin responded with a great amount of shock. The African-American fell to his knees only after the teleporter upped the current. As his strained cry rang out, Kevin appeared before Z and Ava rushed to her fiend's side. Slowly, her vision raised to the siblings, narrowed. Z flashed a sympathetic look that Ava hardly considered until the two vanished in a flash of light. With them gone and The Trackers long out of sight, Ava turned to Power Man fully.
"Are you okay, Lu—Power Man?" she asked, hating the way he cringed and hissed in pain.
"Iron Fist," the hero croaked. He looked over his broad shoulder and Ava followed suit.
Behind them, the Chinese strip laid in utter ruin. Rubble here, glass there. Tables and chairs were strewn across the hazard zone like sprinkles atop a cake. There was a distinctive acidic scent in the air, and amongst it was the face-down form of Iron Fist receded into a deep crater in the street. After another glance at Power Man, Ava rushed forward. Gingerly, she picked his dense body up, placing it face-up outside the crater.
"Iron Fist?" she questioned to his stirring figure.
"Y—Yeah," the blonde responded. He shakily adjusted his yellow bandana mask then groaned as a trail of blood slipped from beneath it. "P—Power Man had Six Arms again. Are they—"
"He's gone," added Ava. She frowned behind her mask when Iron Fist sat up and scanned the area. "Yeah, all three. We got our asses handed to us, and it wasn't thanks to them."
"It wasn't?"
Ava sensed the blonde's eyebrow raise.
"Well, it wasn't entirely thanks to them," a familiar voice interjected. The duo twisted to greet Spider-Man's limping body. He brought Nova along—from God knows where—though the Hispanic didn't speak or raise his head while leaning on Spider-Man for support. "Sparks didn't help."
Iron Fist wiped the blood from his face, asking, "Who?"
"One of the refugees. And boy, does he pack some gigawatts."
"So they all got away?" The blonde's vision drifted towards Power Man, who just approached.
"Looks like it," the dark-skinned hero replied lowly. He held onto his left arm, cringing behind his sunglasses that somehow clung to his dirty face still. Ava's question about his arm went unvoiced, though, thanks to a cry from a very dissatisfied boss in the background.
"What the hell is this?" Fury screamed like—to Ava—an upset mother. The SHIELD Director stalked forward on heavy boots that brought him close to the group. But not too close, as if the teens were in danger of being smacked. "This"—he motioned to the mess surrounding them—"is not minimizing damaged! What were you thinking?"
"Sorry, Sir," Spider-Man replied, even.
"Sorry doesn't cut it. And where are The Trackers?"
The group leader met Fury's gaze, unblinking. "We'll get them Fury. Things came up."
"Heroes don't have the luxury of excuses," the Director retorted as his one eye narrowed further. "Ask any one of them."
"I'll be sure to add it to my to-do list. Tony might be missing me anyway."
"Parker—"
"We controlled what we could, alright?" Spider-Man's tone adopted a slight edge. He resituated Nova's arm over his shoulder when the fatigued hero stumbled in an attempt to stand. "We'll do better next time; we have to."
"Y—Yeah," Nova said though a labored breath, head down. "We'll get them. Just need…another…chance…"
"And we didn't leave the battle empty-handed," interjected Power Man weakly.
"Oh?" Fury turned to the teen, who gave a small smirk, jabbing a thumb in the direction of a sheltered spot that resembled a cave. In it, a quivering Frenchman crouched, possibly too shaken to realize the fight had ended.
"You got Leaper again."
Fury deadpanned.
Denied. The Board of Directors had actually denied the proposition? Why? It had been an irresistible opportunity for greatness—a step closer to keeping par with those mutants. What human wouldn't jump at such a chance? Because of a bit of risk? Ludicrous! All things in life worth an ounce reward came with a bit of risk. So why deny the project?
The answer was clear. Because they were scared, obviously. Scared Metavenum would end up like Maya Hansen's and Aldrich Killian's Extremis. Scared of failure. They had always been scared, relying on ridiculous standards of safety and ethics as a guide for their decisions.
And then there was Tony Stark's big mouth. The fool wasn't involved in the company at all, yet he still retained an impact over their feeble minds with private visits. Pathetic. Though as much had been expected, there had also been the small hope of acceptance—for once, acceptance.
Not that their approval mattered that much or made a significant difference in what had already been put in motion. Enderlin had ended in disaster, yes. Thanks to that damned fear. But many of the scattered kids had already been tracked, and the Board's support would've only eased some financial burdens. Things were still manageable, regardless of their short-sightedness. Well, they were so long as the press remained positive and the trump card's expenditure didn't inflate any more.
"Greedy little dog," a sharp voice hissed. Several quick clicks echoed through the vast office as a slideshow of profiles scrolled across a display of holographic screens. "And what have I got to show for it? The kids I want most are still at large and the three I sent after them are performing a less-than-satisfactory job."
"Talking to yourself again, Doc?" a new voice—this one deeper yet silvery—added. Not one footstep sounded across the metallic floor, however; not even when the voice drew closer to the glowing screens. "You really outta find someone; that ain't healthy."
"As are many things you partake in. Yet I don't concern myself with them." A double click rung out softly and a selected profile glowed red, darkening with the text 'contained' over it.
"I go through the trouble of finding Espello for you and that's the calloused response I get?"
"I hate your exaggerations, you know. You aren't that sensitive. You're only here for the money."
The second voice chuckled. "That is a plus. But I did warn you about cutting corners with freebies. The Caulfields and Kakar are amateurs."
"And you have so much experience being twenty-two."
"I still have more than them."
"You've played your role with Espello," the first voice snapped. A few more profiles were marked. "I need you sparingly now thanks to the Board. Besides, if SHIELD gets a hold of anyone, it can't be you."
"And yet if they get captured, you're still sending me after them." Not an ounce of doubt tainted the second voice and the first voice sighed. "You're a strange one, Doc."
"All you care about is a paycheck. So long as your receive that, you'll go where I send you, when I send you."
"Fair enough," said the second voice, drifting with a ghostly echo.
"If you're needed in New York, I'll send you. In the meantime, I pay you enough to keep me out of your little games. So leave."
"As you wish." And with one final chuckle the office fell silent.
Author's Notes: Bad guy teaser! Wonder who it is. Heh. Introduction to some new mutants, Z and Kevin. Yes, they play big roles. *wink, wink* Next chapter is Sam's POV. Don't forget to fav and review! :D Speaking of...
AsgardianGrizzly - I have this story all planned out already. Thanks for the suggestion, though. Hope you keep reading for more twists and intrigue! :)
spize666 - Yes. Trickster is ALL mine. My little twisted baby. It's nice you enjoy him, so thanks for telling me. :) And SURPRISE SAVE. Did you see THAT coming? Heh.