Metro City
"Alright everyone, pay attention," Mirage looked over the new faces on her team for a moment, and continued, "Not to sound too dramatic, but this mission centers around a surgical strike inside a hostile nation with more guns than Texas, less restraint than the Bush twins and on the verge of war. If someone here screws this mission up because they weren't paying attention, I'm leaving you there."
The room was small, designed to seat roughly twenty people though today it contained only twelve. On the far wall was a high definition display screen used by the likes of the Mossad, CIA and MI-5, among others. Plastered across the screen itself was the east coast of Africa, though the African nation of Somalia received the most focus. Mirage took a moment to hand out several print outs to her team.
"Nova, will you start?"
"Sure thing. As you should have figured out by now, we're going to be launching a strike into Somalia," Nova began, "so I'll give you the basics, at least those that matter to the mission. The country had the dubious honor of being colonized by three separate European nations. As you can imagine, when they left things were unstable as a result."
"Just another example of the white man keepin' everyone else down. I can relate."
"Oh shut up Sabre, anyone oppressing you was doing us a favor," stated Mirage evenly, "back to the subject at hand, Somalia has been in a state of constant civil war for ten years now. You didn't have to see 'Black Hawk Down' to know what happened when the United Nations and U.S. tried to stabilize the country."
"Up until recently, the country was ruled by various different factions and warlords. Some, calling themselves, of all things, The Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counter Terrorism, were backed by our own government."
"Can't believe they actually called themselves that," Sabre whispered to herself.
"Yuir government," corrected Wolfsbane.
"Yeah, yeah. No one likes a bragger, kiddo. Anyways, that all changed early last year when the Union of Islamic Courts swept through the country and started removing the warlords and assuming control. I don't think I need a chart to explain their agenda, do I?"
"Sounds familiar," remarked Arsenal.
"It should," Nova observed, "the Islamic Union's already executed a few people for watching the World Cup, and financing for armies doesn't come cheap. Popular theories put local Muslim slash Arabic nations behind the funding for the Courts."
"Wait a sec…," this time it was Charlie, otherwise known as Charcoal who interrupted, "…they killed someone for watching a soccer game?"
"Yup."
"…damn, that's...that's harsh."
"Your explanation is simplification to the point of mental retardation," Vibraxis stated, "but I believe I see where this discussion is heading. Are the Islamic militias to be our target then?"
"No, not if the mission goes according to plan." Mirage answered.
There was a chorus of indignant outrage from the majority of the team, but the two leaders expected as much. Hell, Mirage even allowed time for it when she was planning the mission briefing. Charcoal, Sabre, Vibraxis, Tarene and Blink were loudly voicing their disagreement as expected, while Wolfsbane and X-Treme simply seemed disappointed. Kymaera, Taki and Arsenal, however, were the only ones who chose to keep their anger over the decision to leave the Islamic Courts be to themselves. That wasn't too surprising, given their long work on the team.
"Dani, how can you say that!" Tarene demanded, "these people are evil!"
Oh, if only it were that simple, Moonstar mused to herself, "I have plenty of reasons, the biggest one being that the international community frowns on superhumans attacking governments, regardless of the government in question. If we toppled the Islamic Courts, we'd be international fugitives and someone else would just take their place. We can't make a difference if Excalibur is breathing down our neck."
"Who then are we targeting?"
The screen behind Mirage shifted from a map of the war torn country of Somalia to that of nearly two dozen different faces, both men and women. Some looked humans, others looked as if they were taken from a light night horror movie, but combined there was little doubt that they were all superhuman in some fashion.
"They call themselves the Bio-Genes. Like the local warlords, they fought to expel the United States. In recent years, they've run their own little town of Kalcaio as their own little kingdom, with all outside factions giving them breathing room. Though they've since converted to radical Islam, they have no connections to the Islamic Courts. They're plenty alike, so that may be why they hate one another."
"That's hardly surprising," offered Taki, "moderate societies are barely tolerant of mutants. Extremists would naturally worse."
"Wiz Kid's pretty much summed it up…"
"It's Technocrat now, Nova," corrected Taki.
"Whatever. Anyways, the Bio-Genes have been active recently, reaching out to other terrorist organizations, offering them safe haven in return for money and backing. Scumsbags of a feather, you know how it goes. With a little help, the Bio-Genes could steamroll the Islamic Courts and setup their own little fundamentalist dictatorship," stated Nova, "there isn't a player on the board who can match them, or is willing to. Except us."
"If we succeed, we'll have prevented another Afghanistan, this time with super powers."
"And if we fail?"
"Well, that's the good news and bad news rolled into one," answered Mirage, "No one will really care."
&&&
Marvel 2000 Presents
Force Works 26
Actions of a little Dutch Boy
&&&
Somalia
Nuruddin Omaar, Argus to his Bio-Gene brotherhood (their leader was educated in the West and swears by the Koran that the name makes sense) removed several leaves of quat from his pocket and began chewing. The leaves were bitter, but he didn't chew them for the taste. Within moments, he felt a familiar narcotic float through his body. Nuruddin was just barely six years old the first time he tasted the drug. He'd been ripped from his mother's arms (she received several bullets for her trouble. To this day he doesn't know if she's alive or not) days before, and was 'training' to be a soldier. His basic training consisted being given a gun, the drug, and orders to kill whomever he was told to.
Naturally, the drug went a long way to helping the young man live with himself afterwards.
That all changed when the young man became of age, and began seeing things he shouldn't, literally. His eyes allowed him to spy on faraway enemies, see through solid walls and perceive pitch black night as clear as day. Nuruddin didn't know the exact term 'mutant', but he knew he was different in a country where one was killed simply for belonging to the wrong tribe. So he kept that small fact to himself, all the while fearing he might be discovered and killed.
Thankfully for Nuruddin, salvation wasn't long in coming. One day, a tall man dressed in dark blue with a flowing red cape with long blond hair and eyes that smoldered with energy strolled into his camp one day, uncontested. As if that weren't odd enough, the man's arms were overlaid with what didn't look to be scar tissue, but certainly didn't look like human muscle either.
The man called himself Leecher, and explained that the two of them were mutants, gifted by Allah with gifts greater than that of their fellow brothers, and given a responsibility to lead his true believers to a better tomorrow. To that end they would cast off their old names and bear new ones, ones that reflected their gifts. Nuruddin, now named Argus by his leader, thought it was the first step in an epic battle, where he could finally wash the sins from his soul.
Instead, he soon came to realize that he'd just traded one militia for another. The Bio-Genes ran this town like any other warlord, through power and intimidation they bled the people dry. The only difference was whereas other warlords did what they did in the name of their clan or money, the Bio-Genes did in the name of God. Most of the others didn't see it that way, of course, but at fourteen years of age he was too jaded to see anything but the truth. Warlord or fundermentalist, the only difference was what they told themselves at night, and how they instilled fear in others.
When he walked into the market, he didn't need his mutant vision to know he was being watched with wary eyes. He took anything and everything his commanders allowed, just as before. There were exceptions, and for some things he needed to wait until his 'noble leaders' were looking the other way, but he still took them all the same.
At least his job was easier than before, Argus reflected. Named after some Western Legend by his leader, he employed his vision powers as lookout. The town they controlled was of average size so it was impossible to see everything even for him, but if one wanted to launch an attack, the road Argus had been assigned to watch was vital. It ran through the entire town, right up to the old hospital where his fellow mutants had made their base.
His watch started quiet enough, but that changed so subtly he barely noticed at first. First, there were two strong breezes. One going north, the other going south. It seemed odd at first, but hardly suspicious. Then, some minutes later, on the outskirts of the town, the wind kicked up again. This time it was akin to a sand storm, gathering leaves, sand and all other kinds of debris that happened to be laying around. Although Argus had no idea what could be causing something so strange, he also knew it only meant trouble. He reached for his cell phone, and called in an alert.
&&&
"Speedfreak to Little Troll, Speadfreak to Little Troll, do we got their attention yet?" asked Kim Mai, not much better known as Sabre, "I have others I'd like to do today, other than, ya know, run in circles."
"Our communications are perfectly secure, Sabre, so drop the 'cute' codenames," answered Takeshi Matsuya, now codenamed Technocrat, "the others are getting into position, and I've assumed control of all the cell towers in the area."
"All two, right?"
"Actually, Somalia has the greatest proliferation of telecommunications in all of Africa and lowest rates in the world. In fact, the telecommunications business is booming all over Africa. Which you might know, if you'd listened to the briefing."
"Yeah, bore me to death while I'm whipping up a tornado. Can we go already?"
"A moment," Taki turned his attention to the screens surrounding his seat. The CIA, along with several other intelligence agencies, kept a constant eye on the country, and the Bio-Genes especially. Super humans, mutant or otherwise, always drew special attention. This was an added plus for this mission, at least. The young genius had released several hovering camera drones of his own design allowing him to better see the battlefield, but the high definition satellite images provided by the CIA were just as helpful.
With a glance, he could see merchants hastily packing their goods and wears inside, mothers grabbing their children before rushing home and slamming shut their windows and doors and men rushed to grab their weapons. It was a morbid blessing in disguise, that in a region so used to war, its inhabitants knew instinctively when to head for cover.
That in and of itself would make this mission easier. The overwhelming majority of innocent bystanders were indoors where they'd be safest (truly a relative term here) allowing the team to move with much greater speed and power. The only downside was that Force Works lost some of the element of surprise, but in the opinion of their leader (and Taki's as well), that hardly mattered. The Bio-Genes knew somewhat was happening, but had no idea what. The advantage was still theirs.
"Technocrat to Mirage. The civilians are moving inside. Should we go?"
"Have the section leaders call in, we only get one shot."
"Understood," Taki flipped a single switch and sent a silent mental command to his consul, "Section leaders, position report."
"Arsenal here. In position."
"Nova here. Good to go."
"X-Treme here. Wolfsbane and I are ready for insertion."
"Did alien boy really just say that?"
"Sabre, shut up and pay attention," snapped Technocrat. He steepled his hands together, and for a moment chose simply to reflect. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the entire intelligence community's attention was focused upon the country now, and soon, Force Works. And unlike before, instead of fighting alongside them, Taki would instead be watching over them, coordinating the entire attack. He felt butterflies form in his stomach, but crushed them underneath the cold logic he always employed. Sink or swim, now was the time to act.
"Everyone, get ready, it's time to go to work."
&&&
"Sabre, unzip."
Those words were like heavenly music to the mutant speedster. Kim felt as though she'd been running in circles for hours, and was starting to get a little itchy for action and nervous that someone might pick her ass off. Hitting a moving target, even one at her speed, wasn't that hard if it stayed in one general area.
But those fears were shelved, now that she'd been given permission to cut loose.
The first thing she did was reach out to the sandstorm with the electromagnetic forcefield that surrounded her body. Unlike other speedsters, Sabre was born with a field that minimized the effects of the environment on her speed, allowing her to ignore all but the strongest wind resistance and avoid tearing off the skin of a man if she ran by at a thousand miles per hour (unless she wanted to). Normally, it worked instinctively, but with practice the young Vietnamese heroine had learned to manipulate it to a certain degree.
Once she felt that her field had latched on, Sabre raced towards the town at half speed. The dust, leaves, dirt and debris that she had kicked up followed her like exhaust from a fighter jet. Zipping through the main streets at impossible speeds, past buildings, through side streets, in less than ten seconds the entire town was coated in a thick blanket of dust and sand akin to smog. Even the keenest eyes would have a difficult time seeing farther than twelve feet in front of them.
"Blanket is down, Wizzy."
"I can see everything perfectly from my position," Technocrat informed his teammate, "you know where to be. Your targets are beginning to scramble as we speak."
"Man," Sabre donned specially designed goggles, designed to allow her to see perfectly despite the sand flying about, and raced towards her rendezvous point, "everyone gets fun jobs but me."
&&&
Bio-Genes by the dozen poured into the street in front of their adopted base. Each and everyone of them had received an emergency page on their cell phones, ordering them out to the front in expectation of an attack. None of them had any way of knowing that the page had actually been faked by Technocrat, but in the end the result would have been the same.
Before they'd had a chance to spread out, a lightning bolt the size of a SUV slammed down from on high in the street before them. Three figures emerged, none of them looking the least bit friendly. The one on the far left looked like a black rock roughly chiseled into the shape of a man. The man in the middle looked as if he were an enraged angle, cast down from Heaven itself to wreck a terrible vengeance. Finally, to the right stood a tall, young woman wearing a war mallet and dressed as if she were a modern Viking. Even with her hesitant body language, her power was obvious to even the most ignorant observer.
"Keep it tight and quick," ordered Arsenal, "the less property damage, the better. That means you, Tarene."
"Yessir," meekly answered the mighty Goddess Tarene.
"These bruthas don't look so...brotherly," Charcoal observed.
"Good," Arsenal touched his earpiece communicator, activating a special feature Technocrat had designed.
"Who's in charge here? We're hear about an alliance!" said Arsenal in English, but was heard in Arabic.
The gathered members of the Bio-Genes looked stumped, and somewhat relieved. For the past several weeks, they'd been hosting all kinds of colorful 'freedom fighters', who thought their super powers were a license to show off. Ironically, after several peaceful weeks of being surrounded by people as equally dangerous as themselves, the Bio-Genes had grown soft, complacent. Tension shifted to boredom fairly easy here, after so many years in power.
Two men raised their hand, signaling their authority. With a single burst of crimson energy, they were both dispatched.
"Let that be a lesson to you. Don't identify your rank during combat."
That awoke the Bio-Genes to the danger they faced, albeit to late for them to do much good.
Charcoal elongated his arms like a giant whip and swept a dozen foes while Arsenal relied on his steel fists and optic blasts to deal with the ones Charcoal missed.
"You think you three could possibly handle our power?" demanded the Bio-Gene titled Transfaser. His skin changed into blood colored stone as his body grew to eight feet tall and shoulders as broad as three linebackers. With a snort like that of a wild animal, he charged towards Arsenal with the intention of popping his head like a pimple. He swung a giant fist...
...only to gasp Tarene shot in front of his winged target, and caught his fist with one hand, never budging. Her fist was like that of a child's compared to his, yet it didn't give an inch. The young woman looked up with anger in her bright blue eyes.
"You're hurting these people."
Tarene swung her free hand, the one holding her golden war mallet, upwards, connecting with Transfaser's chin. The man-giant was blown backwards, through one building before crashing into the wall of another, sliding to the ground unconscious.
"That's how we know we can handle you jerks!"
Arsenal noted with satisfaction how the Bio-Genes seemed cowed by the casual defeat of one of their strongest members. He relished the look on these bastard's faces, the fear in their eyes and the feeling he got as he slammed his steel fists into their face. He knew it shouldn't enjoy violence this much, but thought that simple realization made everything alright. For now, he chose to lose himself in the fight.
On the edge of the battle, three figures snuck by, concealed by illusions and nearly invisible to the naked eye. They made their way into the Bio-Gene's stronghold unopposed, and began their hunt.
&&&
Despite the deadly danger all around them, Rahne Sinclair, long time heroine known as Wolfsbane, had to stifle a giggle as she watched her boyfriend stride down the hall. In front of him were six separate bodyguards and mercenaries, all sweating bullets and too afraid to make a move.
For his part, Adam Sol, AKA X-Treme, had no idea what was so amusing as he held his trench coat open for all to see. Maybe it was some earth joke he still didn't get, but the sixty pounds of explosives strapped to his chest just didn't seem the least bit funny. Maybe it was her perspective or something.
Not that it mattered much. The threat of a violently explosive death deterred the men before them from standing in their way, or warning their intended targets, until it was much too late.
X-Treme had done the reconnaissance for this mission, so he knew exactly where to go. In another time, before the nation became a patchwork of fiefdoms, this would have been in the Children's Ward.
The alien warrior felt a strange sense of satisfaction as they entered what had been the cafeteria, to find dozens of men and women gathered together. There were five representatives of A.I.M, three from Hydra and dozens of other representatives from just as many organizations. Virtually every man and woman in the room was wanted for some crime somewhere, not the least of which was murder and assorted charges of terrorism.
"Gathered scumbags, may I have your attention?"
Unlike the Bio-Genes, most of the gathered terrorists recognized members of Force Works when they saw them. Violence would have likely ensued were it not for the explosives Adam had strapped around his wait. There was a beat of silence, and Adam continued.
"Thank you. Force Works has decided that this country is no longer the Bio-Genes' to sell. As for yourselves, you're coming with me. But first, would anyone working an undercover operation for Shield, CIA or anyone else step forward? Your mission is already compromised, and though we already know who you are, I can't promise you that you'll be unharmed if you stay here."
His statement was mostly a lie (Force Works' connections now were second to none, but at the same time they couldn't risk because caught with classified material), but it was still effective. Several men stepped forward, and while the gathered criminals glared daggers at them, Adam's glare itself was enough to ward them off.
"Wolfsbane?"
The mutant metamorph took a step forward, and focused her senses upon the men. She focused her sense of smell on their sweat glands, listened to their heart beat and watched their facial tics with her razor sharp eyes. With senses as sharp as any animal's, Rahne Sinclair was an excellent liar detector. She eyed the final man, of medium height, brown eyes and black hair, carefully.
"Yuir staying." Rahne informed the man.
"What?! I'm with Military Intelligence! You can't…" the man stopped his protests when he felt the meanest, double bladed sword tapping on his shoulder.
"If that's the case, then you should just lie down and not resist. Wolfsbane, you head out."
She nodded to X-Treme, and led the men away. Adam hoped the men wouldn't be too angry about their botched mission, but knew in the end it wouldn't matter. No respectable government in the world would admit to condoning the Bio-Gene's activities, even covertly. Hell, if Force Works did their job right, their mission would be moot anyways.
With his teammate and lover gone, X-Treme found himself alone with dozens of odd terrorists, their bodyguards and sixty pounds of explosives strapped to his chest. He did the only sane thing a person could do in his position. He smirked.
"I won't be needing this," tapping the harness release, the explosives flopped on the ground, useless. While the young warrior had insisted on using real explosives in case someone could somehow sense the difference, he'd neglected to add a single trigger to the bombs.
That sure as hell didn't stop the entire room from jumping in shock as those sixty odd pounds of unusable explosives were dropped on the floor like a sack of potatoes.
X-Treme grabbed two smoke grenades made especially for this occasion, and popped the pins.
"Anyone attempts to leave this room by any other means than through me, and the bomb detonates."
Another lie, but X-Treme hoped that by mixing it with a challenge (beat me and you go free) that he'd made it more believable. If the sudden tide of murderous men swarming towards him was any indication, he'd succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.
&&&
Despite their massive power compared to those they oppressed, the Bio-Genes were by no means gods. Though they hardly wanted for firepower, manpower was another story all together. Someone was needed to patrol the street, enforce their authority and settle disputes while the Bio-Genes lorded over the city like little kings. And so a small mercenary army was formed, under the command of the Bio-Genes. They were the only ones allowed to carry weapons, and only ones allowed anything resembling authority under the Bio-Genes. They were called the War Dogs by the locals at first as a form of insult, and eventually the name stuck. Indeed, they wore the name with as much honor as brutal mercenaries were allowed.
That wasn't to say that their masters completely trusted them. The War Dogs' barracks were on the other side of town, as was all of their equipment, under the constant watch of at least one member of the Bio-Genes. They'd received the (false) order to scramble as well, and within three minutes a dozen armored jeeps filled with heavily armed men roared out of the compound and towards the Bio-Genes' headquarters.
The man in the lead knew the way by heart, so he was startled to see the street corner he was supposed to turn down barricaded by scrap metal, old cars, wasted tree limbs and just general garbage. Pressed for time, the commander chose to drive on, taking another, albeit slower, route to the battle scene instead of getting out and moving the blockage. Time was of the essence.
It didn't take them long to discover that route had been blocked as well, as were the following two alternates. The commander was about to abandon the vehicles entirely when he noticed a blue and gold figure descend from the sky and land some twenty feet in front of the convoy.
"Nova to Sabre, I'm clear, right?"
"You're good, bucket head. They're lined up like nice ducks in a row, and I double checked the area for bystanders."
Nova barely blinked as several hundred rounds of ammunition were cast his way. Bullets in any form had stopped fazing him, mentally or physically, a long time ago. They didn't even bother his concentration as he began reaching inside himself, drawing upon the star borne power within his body.
&&&
Medhane Farah was, against common sense but by nature, a curious child. While the rest of his family was wisely in the basement of their house, Medhane was at the living room window, hoping to catch site of what was causing all the commotion.
At first, he was unsuccessful. His family luckily lived on the opposite end of town from their oppressors, meaning there was little chance he'd see anything really cool. The young boy's hopes shot up when he saw the armored vehicles rush by. But that in no way prepared him for what happened thirty seconds later.
The entire convoy, down to the last man and jeep, were sent flying backwards through the air like leaves in the wind. The sound of groan men screaming, metal scrapping against concrete walls and metal colliding into metal instantly became the most terrifying noise the young boy had ever heard.
With terror paralyzing his mind, the young boy never felt the feminine hands that grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the window and placed him in the basement with the rest of his family. But even the comfort of family wasn't enough to relieve the pure fear of what he'd seen, of one single man dismissing so many others who were once so feared themselves.
&&&
Nova walked purposely down the road, grimacing slightly at the damage he'd caused single handily. The worse pileups on American Highways didn't compare to this mess. The Human Rocket did his best to keep the gravity pulse fairly weak and focused, but it was still a mighty thing to behold. He knew without a doubt that he'd fatally injured at least several of the mercenaries, but he found himself unconcerned about the thought. As a member of the Nova Corps, an alien army, Nova had plenty of kills under his belt. But as Nova the hero, Richard Rider had always wanted to keep his record clean.
But here, in a war zone where people were being exploited without a thought, that wasn't possible. The line between hero and soldier blurred. Nova knew that going in..
The simplicity of it didn't really bother Nova anymore. No, what bothered him was the fact that he didn't know when he started to think this way.
Nova heard the sound of a gun shot, glass shattering, and saw one of the mercenaries climbing out the window. The man, amazingly, was spared serious injury saving a bleeding gash across his forehead.
And naturally, he still has his weapon, Nova reflected bitterly.
Like before, the Man called Nova ignored the hail of bullet, and kept walking towards the man. To his credit, the mercenary went through two complete magazines before was within arm's length. The young hero reached out, and crushed the assault weapon in his palm like silly putty. With fear driven speed, the hired killer dropped his assault weapon and drew his handgun.
"Yeah, like that'll work."
Technocrat's translator worked perfectly, and the man dropped the weapon. A split second later, Nova grabbed the man by the throat, and levitated several feet in the air to doubly emphasize the threat. The look of fear carved onto his face made Nova feel like a dirtbag, until he realized that the man he was holding actually was a dirtbag. He was smart enough to know that didn't make everything alright, but it helped.
"I'll only say this once," Nova began, "my team is taking the Bio-Genes. Your people are to stay out of it. We're also taking all your guns, knives and any other weapons you might have. If you leave now, maybe the people of this town won't eat you and your friends alive. If any of your people even think about harming anyone as you leave," Nova's eyes narrowed, his glair sharper than any knife, "I'll make what I've just done seem like a slap on the wrist. And then, when I'm done, I'll let my teammates have you."
The muffled whimper, and the trickle of liquid down the man's leg, was all Nova needed to know that his threat translated perfectly. He dropped the man to the ground, and climbed into the air.
"Sabre, you're with me. We need to take out their base," Nova ordered, "Technocrat, keep an eye on these guys and on Arsenal's battle. We've done our part, no reason why we can't help out elsewhere."
"Understood," acknowledged Taki. A quick glance at his screens showed that Arsenal's three man team was more than holding their own, and X-Treme was slicing and dicing his way through his targets with speed the young genius still found amazing, "though I doubt you'll be needed. The mission is proceeding as planned. All we need do now is wait for our leader to finish her part."
&&&
Danielle Moonstar, alias Mirage, Clarice Ferguson, alias Blink and M'Kano Khanata alias Vibarxis stalked through the base, their eyes peeled for any stray enemy lurking about. Mirage preferred not to rely too much on her illusions, especially in a situation like this. Of all four teams, her mission was the most important. While her teammates did their work destroying the Bio-Gene's (metaphorical) body, it was up to Mirage's team to deal with the head, Leecher and his lieutenants.
Which was one of the reasons why Dani insisting that Blink be a part of her team. According to some accounts, and the young woman herself, Blink had spent a lifetime in another reality fighting a gorilla war, and Danielle honestly believed her. Spirits knew their lives were fantastic enough. But looking at the teleporter, seeing the anger and tension that begs to be released, Mirage began to doubt her decision, just a little bit.
"This is it."
The trio ducked into a large, dark room. It was basically a storage closet that relied on the open door for light. Mirage removed a flare and a small, palm pilot like devise from her belt.
"Okay, according to this our target is two stories straight up. Blink?"
A pause.
"Blink?"
Dani looked up, and saw her teammate staring at the crates that filled the room. The crates had labels from several different languages on them, each presumably saying the same thing they said in English. It read United Nations Food Relief.
"What the hell are these bastards doing with all this aid?" demanded Blink in disbelief.
"They stole them," Vibraxis stated curtly, "it's a common tactic for local scum in Africa. They take the aid for themselves and their followers, leaving everyone else to starve for the cameras so that they might get more aid."
"This world shouldn't be like this," Blink snarled in a hushed voice.
"We're doing all we can to make sure it's not," Mirage said quickly, "and you need to do your part."
"I got it. Two stories, straight up? We'll be there in a..."
-Blink!-
&&&
As the leader of everything (that mattered in his world), the leader of the Bio-Genes, Leecher, was a proud man. After all, people who could bend steel, cast energy from their hands and control the weather itself answered to his every whim, all in the cause of Allah. His word was law, his authority was unquestioned and the power of his followers unmatched.
Until now.
In his mind's eye, he could see his soldiers being cut down. They might have had the advantage in terms of number, and perhaps power, but having been in power so long they had grown complacent and weak. An untested spear weakens with time, Leecher's father had once said to him, and that was exactly what was happening here.
And so, the telepath was forced to call upon the closest people who had actual combat experience, and ask (and failing that, beg) for their help.
That meant Genosha, with a mutant population of millions, to say nothing of it's renowned strikeforce, the Fallen Angels. Unfortunately for Leecher, it was the same nation that refused to even recognize his existence up until now.
Their Minister of Foreign Affairs was a powerful mutant self titled Gamesmaster. In terms of personal power and influence, the man outclassed Leecher by leagues. And he made a point to emphasize that fact by projecting his image in Leecher's mind to make it seem as if he were only standing several feet away, and laughing hysterically.
"You...you honestly think that'd we'd send out troops to help you?" Gamesmaster choked out, "as if you pathetic third stringers had anything you could offer Genosha!"
"We are brother mutants!" Leecher snarled, "isn't that reason enough?"
"Not even you believe that," chided Gamesmaster, "And our leader Magneto has learned the lesson of dealing with fanatics, however thinly veiled. In fact, the only reason I'm even talking to you now is to both personally see the look on your face when Force Works teleports into your headquarters, and to distract you from noticing their approach, though they hardly needed the help."
There was a sound like that of a human eye blinking, and suddenly Leecher saw three young warriors glaring at him.
"Goodbye!" waved Gamesmaster.
Mirage took a look around the room, noting over a half dozen Bio-Genes that they'd identified as Alpha level threats. Though she was confident that she and Blink were enough to defeat the men, Dani was a leader who hated unnecessary risks.
"Vibraxis, the floor is yours."
"You have my thanks, Mirage. These disgusting villains will feel the full wra..."
Mirage tackled her teammate to the ground a split second before an energy blast would have removed his head. Blink charged her javelins and hurled them towards the man who'd fired the blast. When the javelin struck his chest, he disappeared in a -blink!- and reappeared several inches to the side and promptly passed out.
"Shut up and fight!" snapped Mirage.
"My apologies," Vibraxis climbed to his feet, and aimed his hands. With barely a thought, he released a trickle of seismic power contained within his body towards one of Leecher's elite guards.
The man was built like a monster, almost literally, with steel skin, serrated teeth, burning yellow eyes, four arms and enough muscles to rend a tank. When Vibraxis' blast struck him dead center, the Elite Bio-Gene found himself flung backwards, struggling to stay conscious.
"You will all fall to my mighty vibrational power!" exclaimed the young man as he targeted another 'Elite' Bio-Gene. To their credit, neither Mirage nor Blink snickered at their teammate's proclamation.
Not too much, anyways.
&&&
"This has got to be a record haul for us," grunted X-Treme. He had one captive resting on each shoulder, and was dragging another five men bound with metal wire like fish on a hook. His teammates had already rounded up almost all of the Bio-Genes, all of whom were sporting a metal wrist band that dampened their power and delivered a hefty electrical jolt to those who got out of line. Every last one of them looked angry enough to spit nails, but not a one was willing to take the first shot, especially considering that the entire team was gathered together now, watching their every move.
With a shrug, X-Treme dropped his prisoners into the group, and looked towards his teammates.
"We done here?"
"I'm not sure yet," answered Mirage, "how did things go on your end?"
"I captured most of my targets. These ones here are some of the bigger fish," X-Treme stated, "a few slipped past me, but if those two teargas grenades work like Taki said they would, we can trace them back to their base and take them down there."
"Sabre and I destroyed most of the War Dog's arsenal," Nova reported, "we spared a few small weapons and handed them out to a few families with a couple of clips."
"Are ye sure it's a wise idea tae be armin' people?" asked Wolfsbane, who chewed her lower lip.
"Someone's going to fill the vacuum, no matter what we do. Best they have a reason to look over their shoulder," Nova replied.
"And it's not as if there's any shortage of weapons in the country," Arsenal muttered.
Mirage winced at the tone, but said nothing in response. Instead, she looked up and into the camera of one of the hovering drones their teammate, Technocrat, had deployed around the battlefield.
"Taki, how do we look?"
"One moment," answered a voice over the radio.
From his seat in the Stealth Wing, Taki shifted through countless digital images, the information gathered by X-Treme's recon mission, and several classified CIA and NSA reports that their sources had managed to procure for them. In the blink of an eye, faster than any computer on earth, he mentally analyzed the gigabits of data and came to his conclusion.
"Objectives complete. Would you like me to call it in?"
"Be my guest."
&&&
Namorita Prentiss, known in some circles as Kymaera, was busy typing away in the Work Tower's newly constructed boardroom when her cell phone ringer began playing the song 'Aqualung'.
"I wish he'd stop hacking my ringtones," Namorita said sourly. The joke wasn't that funny the first time…
"Finished?"
"Correct. I presume you have the press packet prepared?"
"Indeed. I'm putting the final touches on it now."
"There's no rush. Even in our Internet age, news is fairly slow, relatively speaking. Take your time and get it right. Please."
"At least he's trying to be more polite," Namorita muttered as she closed her phone.
"I trust the mission was a successful?" asked Irene Basheda. The two of them had been working together all day on Force Works' upcoming press meeting. Though 'Nita respected the woman's intelligence immensely, she found herself annoyed by the older woman's unwillingness to use stronger language.
"Of course they did," smirked Bruce Hoffman as he strolled into the conference room, a cancer stick in one hand. Having worked in intelligence for several decades (that they knew of), he was the main reason that Force Works had even known that the Bio-Genes existed in the first place. He didn't seem inclined to boast about his contribution too much, and for that 'Nita was thankful that he didn't seem inclined to brag. The team had loudmouths aplenty already.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"It was a statement of fact, actually," Hoffman explained, "because right now the press room is exploding. Time's up Princess."
&&&
Namorita greeted the flashing lights and rapid fire questions stoically, as per her duty as the team's public spokeswoman. She politely ignored every question and accusation shot her way as she walked towards the podium.
"Thank you all for coming," she began.
"As you all know, or may have heard, at two o clock local standard time, my teammates engaged and defeated the terrorists called the Bio-Genes. We had received, and then verified, that they were planning on a de-facto Coup D'etat with the assistance of other extra normal terrorist organizations."
Joey Chapman, director of the United Nation's Excalibur strikeforce, merely smirked as he listened. A part of him liked the tenacity of those kids. But another part of him wondered how long it would be before his team was on a collusion course with theirs.
"Obviously, this was something that could not be allowed As no other team of super heroes seemed inclined to stop these monsters, nor was any nation willing to intervene, we took it upon ourselves to both end their reign of terror, and prevent it from spreading."
An Los Angeles, a man recognized around the world as billionaire industrialist as Justin Hammer, but known to a select few as Baron Zemo, watched the scene in silence and deep in thought.
"Let this be a lesson to others gifted with great power, but use them to exploit their fellow man. It does not matter where you are, it does not matter that you do not wear a bright costume, or are not trying to take over the world. We are coming from you. Even if we have to move heaven and earth itself, we will stop you. You may believe yourself safe behind the mantra of 'might makes right', and perhaps at one time you were. But we have our own mantra, one we will apply to every last criminal we get our hands on."
In the Pentagon, the Joint Chief of Staffs and the Commission on Superhuman Activities observed the press conference with equal parts outrage and surprise. The moment Force Works had defeated the Bio-Genes, all their projections for the country, and the implications of such an event, went out the window. Weeks of work, now rendered useless. If this was going to be a habit…something might have to be done.
Kymaera paused, allowing those listening to drink in the full depth of her words, "From this point forward, our mantra is simple, but effective. Force Works."
"Thank you, that is all."
The End…for now.