Avenging

Act IV

The Hate Monger and the Peacemaker

Interlude 2

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tsommer

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Standard disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel characters or other characters from the numerous animes which are within.

Here's a great reference guide for many character and objects in the Marvel Universe.

www. /Appendix/index. htm

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United Kingdom:

Five people sat around a table in a large warehouse that smelled vaguely of textiles that had been kept in one place for a number of decades. The crimelords had chosen random spots for their meetings to keep anyone from anticipating their location, with minimal guards to keep suspicions down. The strategy had worked for a number of years, so they maintained it, though their roster had changed a bit over time.

There was no head of the table, people simply sat at all four sides of it, denoting equality, even if some gangs, or individuals, were more powerful than others. This was about pragmatism, not pissing contests.

The most established of the crimelords was the eldest as well. Vixen was a woman in her early 60's, dressed in an expensive outfit with a fox fur around her neck, who sat on one side of the table by herself.

The mercenary Slaymaster stood behind her, the only visible bodyguard in the room. He wore a safari hunter outfit, complete with a vest with numerous pistols and blades attached to it. He occasionally played with the tip of his pointed beard, more out of boredom than nervousness.

The enigmatic Sir Mordred sat encased in a set of full plate mail that would have been more appropriate during the time of King Arthur. He had both a sword and dagger belted at the waist. Due to his more esoteric criminal ventures, usually purloining items of a magical bent, he rarely intruded on the others' more conventional crimes.

The Valentine Brothers, Luke and Jan, were the 'new kids', having cut off the head and drinking the blood of the lord whose territory they had annexed. Both proclaimed they were vampires, though it was unclear if it was meant to be metaphorical or if they truly believed they were members of the undead. Luke was the brains of the pair and wore a distinguished white suit, while Jan, the muscle, could be barely be differentiated from a common street thug from the simple attire he wore.

Black Tom Cassidy was the most famous of the group. He was by far the most powerful criminal in Ireland and had established very lucrative routes between the islands that benefitted everyone at the table. He wore a black suit with his family crest emblazoned on the chest, and carried a gnarled wooden shillelagh at his side.

With everyone arrived and situated, Vixen took the lead. "I think it's about time we called this meeting to order. Let's cut to the chase. Does anyone have any information on the character who stole our money out of our own bank in broad daylight?"

Luke spoke. "It's some new freelancer. My sources say he just hit town and was rounding up talent for a bank heist. He found it. Most of the crew ended up dead, apparently at his own hand, so getting intel from them is a no-go. However, descriptions on him are pretty consistent."

A voice from the far side of the room shouted, "Pasty-faced fellow, green hair, scars around the mouth that make him look mildly amused all the time."

All eyes turned to the speaker to discover he had just described himself. He was attired in a worn, tattered purple suit that looked more suitable on a homeless person that had been through a lot. He licked his lips loudly, as though he had just eaten something delicious and was savoring the flavor.

"One moment," he said. He brought a chicken wing to his lips and devoured it, then tossed the bone aside. He made the lip smacking gesture again. "Haven't eaten all day. Grabbed some food on the way over. Those barbeque wings from that place up the street are scrumptious."

All of the crimelords were visibly unmoved at the unannounced visitor who had quietly made it past their defenses. Vixen spoke. "Introductions?"

"I am the Heckler, and I'm here to make a deal with you. I know Excalibur has been a thorn in your side for years, and for a nominal fee, I can take care of them for you."

Black Tom interrupted him, waving his shillelagh in the Heckler's direction. "Here now, what's the story with those scars?"

The Heckler seemed mildly amused he would ask about such a thing, considering the situation. Then again he always looked mildly amused. "So, you'd like to know how I got these scars that give me my subtle smile? Well, now, that is a story to tell. My father was a cruel man—"

"Not those!" Tom insisted. "The other ones."

The Heckler scratched his head. "What other ones?"

A gout of one thousand degree flame erupted from the wooden stick, engulfing the Heckler's head. His cry of pain was never emitted since, as soon as he opened his mouth and inhaled, the superheated air charred his vocal cords into unworkable flesh. Then his brain melted in his head and the body collapsed where it was, smoldering.

"The burn scars, laddie. Those ones."

Vixen fanned a sheaf of papers frantically before her. "Tom! What did we say about filling the room with the smell of burning flesh?"

"Always makes me hungry." Now Jan licked his lips in exaggerated fashion. "You don't suppose he had any leftover wings, do you?"

"He had it coming," Tom assured her.

"And what about the money he stole?" she insisted. "How do we get it back if he's dead?"

Black Tom gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "We'll get more the same way we got that: we'll steal it. But that git insulted an Irishman's pride by stealing from him right in front of everyone. There's no amount of money worth that. Do that, you pay the price. No deals. No exceptions."

Before the discussion could continue the door to the warehouse exploded, flying through the air until a wall arrested its flight. Several figures strode dramatically through the aperture and in the room.

The first was dressed in a skintight outfit, save for a small skirt around the waist. It was red, white and blue with a mask in the form of the Union Jack around her face. Long blonde hair trailed out a hole cut out of the top of the mask.

Captain U.K..

An even taller blonde with a skin tight green outfit stood next to her. The uniform was plain and unadorned, and she wore no mask nor foot gear, allowing her bare feet to touch the floor. Her ears were pointed, almost Elven like.

Meggan.

The tallest woman was a brunette and strikingly beautiful. She wore an incredibly expensive men's style designer's suit and wraparound sunglasses. Her poise made her look a great deal like a runway model.

Casca Clover.

The last figure was, if possible, the polar opposite of the previous member. She was by far the shortest of the group. A redhead with a dress decorated with hearts all over it that looked even more feminine than her companion's outfit looked masculine. She twirled a heart shaped wand in her fingertips.

Coco Hart.

Captain U.K. said, "For the record, your henchmen out there were already dead when we got here. We didn't kill them."

Jan Valentine went for a gun, shouting, "Where's Diamond and Spade?"

A moment later a blur appeared behind him and drove both he and his brother's skulls together with a loud thud, knocking both men out.

The figure slowed enough to be seen. She wore a powder blue skin tight outfit adorned with white lightning streaks around it.

Josephine Diamond.

Vixen turned to her bodyguard, who hadn't moved since the entrance of the team. "Do something!"

Slaymaster did, chopping her in the neck and sending her to the ground every bit as unconscious as the brothers. 'He' then removed his face, revealing a more feminine one underneath. "I just did."

Samantha Spade, the final member of the group, revealed her presence.

Excalibur had arrived.

Black Tom wasted no time talking, but instead pointed his shillelagh at the group. A burst of flame was met by a stream of energy from Coco's wand, the forces reaching a stalemate halfway between man and group.

Casca acrobatically leapt over the table with feline grace and struck Cassidy in the jaw with a kick, rendering him unconscious.

At last the final, and only awake, member of the criminal community rose. His armor made a metal on metal scraping sound as he drew his sword. "And now, Captain, it is fate we meet again for the last time. Two foes interlocked by destiny from now until the end of time, to wage war until only one survives. He leveled his sword at the team's leader. "I challenge you to single combat."

"Denied," Captain U.K. said.

"Eh?" The sword tip lowered. "But, it wouldn't be honorable for all of you to fight me. The odds are six to one."

"Whole point of having a team, numerical advantage and all that," Captain U.K. pointed out. "Frankly, it'd be silly for us to yield the upper hand on the premise we need to accommodate some random villain's sense of honor, which could be considered selective at best with you making a living breaking the law and whatnot. So no. It's six against one for you."

"But it's not fair." His voice now took on a whining tone.

"You started out with five teammates. It's your fault for not keeping us from knocking off your team. If you'd been quicker maybe you'd have someone to watch your back, but as it is." Captain U.K. cracked her knuckles as her team surrounded the knight.

"Okay, how about this," the knight wheedled. "I'll give up, but when the police come, say I put up a fight and had you all on the ropes until you rallied and defeated me? I'll lose my street cred if I get a rep for just rolling over to save myself a beating."

Captain U.K. let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine."

Sir Mordred breathed a sigh of relief under his helmet as he put down his sword and started removing his armor.

Captain U.K. observed this was one of the best days ever for her team. They had managed to arrest several of the most powerful crimelords on two islands in one fell swoop with hardly any effort. Only the real Slaymaster had eluded capture, and he was more hired muscle anyhow. Excalibur had successfully defended the land once again.

And then Minako Aino found her eyes drawn to the East. She could feel it, a compulsion calling her, pulling at not just her mind, but her soul. It was like something was just beyond the horizon. A summons she would soon have to attend. Not her team. Just her.

Destiny beckoned.

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Prologue:

The Hate Monger paced the room, irritated beyond all measure. Pondering why events moved along at a snail's pace always had that effect. Japan had to fall, the first before the rest. It had earned it for ruining his plans. Destabilizing this nation, undermining it from within so the vermin running about turned on one another and eliminated themselves, was taking far too long.

It was all such petty acts anymore. He'd gotten a popular daytime talk show host, who was resentful of her male counterpart, to stab him twenty times on live television. The witless fools had been in so much shock they hadn't thought to cut the live feed so the entire event had been witnessed by everyone. A talented chef at a restaurant for the rich and famous had finally snapped and fatally poisoned nearly fifty of Japan's rich and elite. A forty-year ticket taker for the train system, who had once been an explosives ordinance disposal expert with the JSDF, had finally endured one salaryman ignoring his existence too many. So he planted a bomb on the train tracks and sent a full passenger train into the ocean, killing all on board.

They were high profile, but only served to put the public on edge, rather than making them so mad in paranoia they turned on one another. Too many wrote it off as 'just a few crazies', rather than a sign it was all coming apart. Chaos needed to be sown. What he needed was something involving *real* mass slaughter. That singer, Reo. That could have been glorious, with murderous rampages by everyone resulting in tens of thousands of deaths. But the damned heroes had stopped him before he could inflict real damage. Shiro Yoshida's rampage had been effective, causing international concerns and making an enemy of the Genoshans. But again he was stopped before he could have really gotten everyone angry at Japan.

Since then the Hate Monger had tried other things. He had financially backed Karl Fritz and his 'Titan Imperative.' The man had discovered that some supernatural force that existed in the northern reaches of Canada could, at times, turn humans that engaged in cannibalism into immortal beasts called Wendigos (though for some reason he insisted on referring to them as Titans) who would then go around eating whatever they could sink their teeth into, preferably humans. He had actually managed to capture a number of people, imprisoned, and starved them until they ate human flesh, successfully turning a number of them into Wendigos. He was going to import them into Japan with some insane plan to devour the population and turn it into his own personal island nation. It would never have worked, but the havoc it would have wreaked, nigh-invincible monsters devouring people, would have spread chaos everywhere. It would have been glorious.

However, that reformed villainess, Aqueduct, had put an end to the scheme before it could be properly launched. The Hate Monger had half a mind to hunt down Michiru Kaioh and kill her, but that would attract the wrong kind of attention at this time. It was too likely heroes would start breathing down his neck and ruin everything. The grand scheme had to take precedence over personal preferences.

And then when he got the chance, he'd rip out her throat.

Of late he'd been using his superior intellect and came to a conclusion: it was time to revise his plan to undermine things by employing less violent methods, though the result would be the same. Threaten not lives, but livelihoods. That would make the rabble panic, turn on their government, and inevitably their fellow man. When anarchy ruled, chaos reigned. But for the plan he had in mind, he lacked the means to do it personally. Another cat's paw was required.

And then he had discovered one who could aid his plans in a way no other had since Reo. The Hate Monger even knew his precise location since he was currently imprisoned. In some ways, he was the opposite of Aqueduct, which would make him more susceptible to manipulation in the ways the Hate Monger wanted. Theoretically the man might refuse, but that wasn't an option: he was too perfect for the plan. No, the Hate Monger would enlist him one way or another. Maybe rip off an arm. He didn't need two arms for the plan. Severing limbs was always an effective persuasive technique.

It was decided. No more would he delay things. It was time to gather the troops and move out.

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[End Interlude]

Yes, the opening scene was a parody of that movie. Most of Excalibur were from an obscure OVA called Wil Cardz, though Meggan is the one from Marvel canon. And hey, I think Wendigos are a good Marvel Titan equivalent. The Valentines were two of the few British anime characters I thought would fit that role.

And there should be only one more Sailor to go.