Burma
Horimi Mizuki ran her hand across her face, wiping apart a slick film of sweat and grime, completely exhausted and cursing the fact that the day wasn't even half over. She took a deep breath, and motioned with her hands at the well in front of her. Following the cyclone, a pig had become wedged in the thing and now its rotting corpse now polluted this small village's main source of drinking water. To most everyone else, this well was little more than a tempting but serious, and possibly deadly, health risk.
But to Horimi, gifted with absolute control over water following a lab accident, it was just an annoying obstacle.
Almost instantly, steam rose out of the small spring as if it had just been turned into a volcano. Concentrating, Horimi then willed the steam to condense into water again, just above a large container that had been prepared for it. The steam fell like rain and when it was finished, the container held a good eighty gallons of purified water.
Horimi took a protein bar out of her back pocket and bit down greedily as dozens of villagers rushed forward to fill their containers with water. She watched as her fellow relief workers struggled to herd the desperate, thirsty people into something that resembled and orderly line, and sighed.
This was a short term solution, Horimi reflected, not for the first time. But these people desperately needed a steady source of drinking water, and she just didn't have control over her powers to actually get that rotting pig out of there.
Deciding to look in on the rest of her team, Horimi walked through the small village, and was greeted with waves and kind smiles. Her relief team had only been in the village for three days, but already they were regarded as heroes, saviors just short of divinity. The young woman actually had to spend three full hours explaining that she and her team were not, in fact, agents of a higher power but gifted relief workers willing to do everything to help. For the past several weeks, Horimi had traveled through the country with several of her friends, all gifted with abilities greater than mortal men performing relief work in isolated villages.
As Horimi strolled through the village, she felt a small horde of eyes on her. There were fifteen men in this village, and all were here simply to watch her and her team. Horimi hated the fact that they were always under the watchful eyes of the ruling Junta, but accepted it as a necessary evil.
"Horimi, over here please!"
The young woman turned her head to see her friend and fellow 'gifted' relief worker, a young African by the name M'Franke. He had the ability to control the earth, to shape it anyway he wanted, which was exceptionally useful in reclaiming farm land and both repairing and creating efficient water irrigation systems when communities didn't have the expertise or money to do it themselves.
"M'Franke, please, tell me you are don't need me to redirect any water for crops. I'm simply too tired right now."
M'Franke shook his head with a good natured smile, "No, nothing like that. At least not yet. We're still working on perfecting the system. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Joey and Katherine. I'm afraid they've fallen behind schedule somewhat."
Horimi shifted uncomfortably. She had always had a tough time when it came to giving Joey orders. In some ways, with his ability to cast flame, he had the easiest job of all of them. When they needed charcoal or fertilizer, all he had to do was point his hands at a pile of dead vegetation.
But there were times when he had the hardest job of all. Sometimes, a decent burial was too much effort, too much of a health risk, and it fell upon Joey's shoulders to solve the problem. And though he tried to hide his discomfort, Horimi could plainly see how it pained him, having to cremate dozens upon dozens of people because there wasn't enough time or manpower for a proper burial.
So she was reluctant to pressure him when it came to his responsibilities, even when it was obvious that he was his responsibilities. Though to be fair, he was only half the problem.
"I'll talk to them," Horimi reassured her friend, "just keep working on the irrigation. We leave in a week, and we still haven't fixed the well. It will take both of us to fix."
Horimi walked through the village, and to her relief, saw a column of smoke rising from the edge of the village and felt a cool breeze blowing from the direction of the fire.
If she was being honest with herself, it wasn't as if Joey and Katherine were always a problem, she knew that their zeal for humanitarian work didn't match Horimi or M'Franke's and sometimes, it showed.
Joey had been a troubled youth who somewhere along the line in his formative years, had transformed an eight month sentence of community service into a lifetime while Katherine was fostered on them by her billionaire father. One of Russia's last idealists, he knew that his daughter would make a tempting target, and so he World Watch into taking her on as a volunteer with a twenty million donation.
Within no time, Horimi saw the two burning a large pile of gathered debris, which the village would be able to use for either charcoal and fertilizer.
Katherine was in many ways a God send to their relief effort. First and foremost, she was a mutant gifted with control over wind. With her around, the team didn't have to worry one bit about Joey's fire causing an even greater natural disaster. And every day she brightened Joey's spirits.
Horimi simply took issue with the 'how'.
To no one's surprise, she found the two love birds, hand in hand, at the edge of the village, their clothes just a little too wrinkled and their smiles just a little bright considering the work of days past.
"Horimi!" Katherine called, "how are you today?"
"I'm doing well," she replied, "not as well as you two, apparently."
Horimi let the statement hang in the air as the two lovers exchanged blushing looks of embarrassment. She hoped that it would be enough to keep their minds on their responsibilities, at least for today. Horimi liked to run a tight ship, but she absolutely hated playing the disciplinary. It reminded her too much of her father.
"Yeah, we didn't mean to fall behind," Joey said sheepishly.
"He just has trouble with…getting certain things over," Katherine explained.
"I'm sure he does," both girls smiled as Joey winced, "but please, remember that we have a job to do and schedule to keep. We'e lucky to be here at all, and countless more people are depending on us as we speak. It may not be fun, but that's a responsibility we all accepted when we signed on."
The two lovers exchanged a guilty glance, and a small, sadistic part of Horimi enjoyed their expressions of guilt. After all, the four of them had an enormous responsibility to not only the people of this village, but to the people of this entire country. It was something they all knew and accepted when they asked for this assignment.
"Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about…"
Horimi's words were drowned out by a terrible, earth scattering boom that felt twice as loud as a sonic boom she had ever heard. The three looked in the direction of the noise, and gasped as one as they saw a fireball curl into the air.
"Horimi! Horimi!" M'Franke ran towards the three as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.
"M'Franke, what the hell was that?"
"We're…we're under attack!" M'Franke exclaimed, who barely believing the words that came from his mouth.
"Is…is it the junta?" asked Katherine. She considered herself idealistic, but her Russian upbringing had taught her that authoritarian rulers were fickle by nature.
"No it's…I don't know who they are! But they're destroying the village and killing people left and right!"
"We have to stop them!" Joey snapped, barely realizing the full meaning of the words that slipped out of his mouth.
"Are you insane?" Horimi snapped, sweat beading down her head and not just from the heat, "just because we have powers doesn't make us heroes! We need to run!"
"We have to do something!" Joey said, just as another explosion tore through the air. That was particularlly worrying as there was precious little in the village that could actually explode.
"I agree with Horimi," M'Franke said, his voice heavy with equal regret and fear, "we're not soldiers, not warriors. If we try to fight, they'll kill us!"
"That's still better than running!" Joey snapped back, "I'd rather die than know I left these people to get killed! Katherine, back me up!"
Katherine looked at her two friends, and then to her lover, Joey. Like her friends, she had no illusions about their chances in a fight. Besides perhaps lashing out at some half wit, none of them had ever used their powers to attack someone, much less fight.
But like her father, Katherine was gifted with the ability to instinctively think ahead. Would these attacks allow them to just run away, untouched?
"Joey's right, we have to try," Katherine said finally. She just hoped that by disguising her pragmatism as idealism, her comrades might be swayed into fighting. The young master of wind deliberately ignored what their chances were, "we're the only ones who could stop them."
"Come on!"
Horimi and M'Franke watched in shock and horror as their two friends ran towards the choas, towards whoever was terrorizing and destroying the village for Kami knows what reason.
"Horimi," M'Franke's voice was soft, but the steel underneath was unmistakable.
"I know… Kami, I know…" the two took off after their friends, their hearts heavy with fear. The villagers tore past them in the opposite direction, as did the few remaining Junta observers.
The four reached the town square and gasped in horror as they saw the destruction that had been unleashed. Mud and bamboo huts had been reduced to craters, all that remained of the new school was a single singed wall while bodies, young and old, littered the ground as far as the eye could see. It took everything they had for the young volunteers not to turn and run right then and there.
"Who could do such a thing…?" Katherine gasped.
"Look!"
Joey pointed to the east, where several individuals were casually strolling through the destruction. The first man was short and stubby, no taller than five feet, but possessing a total of four muscle bound arms. He wore blue coveralls, a beard over a foot long and hair that looked like it'd never seen a brush, looking every bit a savage.
The second individual looked as if she were carved entirely of wood and her hair appeared to be made entirely of dried, brown weeds. M'Franke nearly gagged at the sight, especially when he realized what was crawling all over the woman's 'skin'.
The second man looked more like a poor than a man. He was dressed up as a children's version of an Indian, with a fake leather vest, red white and blue face paint and a headband laced with feathers. But the bloody knives in his hands were no plastic toys.
"We can do this," Joey reassured his friends, his hands smoldering with fire, "because we have to."
"Agreed," M'Franke thought of his younger brother, kidnapped over a decade ago and his vow to find him. That was way he couldn't die, not here, not now.
Katherine swallowed hard, and promised herself that she would not dishonor her forefathers who unflinchingly stared down the Nazi war machine.
Horimi remembered how much she loved the people of this small village, and how much they needed someone, anyone, to stand up and help them. The young woman from Japan who only wanted to see and help the world convinced herself that this battle was for them.
All Joey could see was how thugs from his old street, assholes who thought they had a right to anything they wanted because no one stood up to them. His hands blazing with enough fire to melt a tank, Joey swore to be the man his father never was, someone who stood up to bastards like that and stopped them cold.
All four, who combined had been in only three and a half fights in their lives (two of those Joey), charged forward to save a village decimated by a cyclone and ignored by literally everyone else in the world. Commanding forces that had shaped the world since its birth, for the first time in their lives they fought to make a difference.
&&&
Marvel 2000 Presents
Force Works 30
Soldiers of Misfortune
Part 1
Blood and Dirt
&&&
Metro City, The Work Tower
The image plastered across Force Works' high definition looked as if it had been taken from a Vietnam war crimes documentary. Bodies were scattered across the jungle like twigs while homes made of simple material smoldered. On the top of the screen were the faces of four young volunteers, smiling as they hadn't a care in the world.
"What you see is the handiwork of a group called the Soldiers of Misfortune," Danielle Moonstar began, "and ten days ago, they killed over two dozen aid workers, roughly a hundred civilians and four superhumans who were helping the relief effort."
Mirage paused for a moment, letting that hang in the air. She had been deliberately short with the team when they asked about the day's mission briefing. Sabre was aching for some action, Tarene was appalled while Arsenal just wanted to hurt someone. Only Nova, Technocrat and Irene Basheda knew what to expect. She deliberately left her team wondering through breakfast and a light training session, all to ensure that she had her team's full and undivided attention.
"Why?" Rahne asked.
"The relief workers had some antibiotics and other supplies that are pretty valuable on the local black market, but the Soldiers could have chosen easier targets. To be honest, I think they were attacked for sport."
Dani watched nearly every member of her team recoil in disgust.
"They at least take anyone down with them?" asked Charcoal.
Mirage shook her head, "No. And they didn't die quickly either."
"How's come we never heard of these guys before," Sabre asked.
"That's a good question. When World Watch heard about what happened, Taki, Rich and I did some digging," Dani replied. She pressed a button, and the screen went through one scene of devastation after another. Dead bodies and destroyed buildings were all they held in common, "when we knew what to look for, we found at least a dozen similar incidents spread across South America, Africa and Asia minor in the last two years."
"So how come we never heard of these guys before?" asked Sabre, "and how come no one's stopped them?"
"The answer to both questions is the same. They time their attacks between major news cycles and such," answered Technocrat, "whenever North Korea makes noise about their nuclear reactor, the Soldiers are performing missions in South America against drug enforcement commandos. When Chavez is complaining about America, they move to Africa, stealing from diamond mines and wiping out rival militia armies for the highest bidder."
"They do that and still avoid detection?" X-Treme whistled, "that's pretty impressive."
"It's not the most complicated method to avoid detection, but it works," stated Nova, "plus, these guys don't advertise, at least not that we can tell. Hell, they're not even called the Soldiers of Misfortune. We just thought it sounded better than 'those murdering bastards'."
"The public's attention span is pretty short," Namorita sighed, "when that Tsunami struck after Christmas, everyone forgot about Darfur."
"We need to stop these murdering vultures!" Vibraxis huffed, "every breath they draw is an offense to true warriors!"
"So do they have a teleporter with them?" Blink asked.
"We don't know," replied Mirage, "in fact, our information on these people is pretty damn thin. We know they have some muscle men, energy projector and maybe someone who can control plants. Hoffman is trying to dig something up on them as we speak, but for now all we know is that these guys exist, and we need to stop them."
"How can we do that?" Tarene asked, her face flush with concern. Rampant evil never sit well with anyone, but it especially showed with the young goddess.
"They left an energy signature we can trace. I plugged it into several spy satellites that scan earth constantly," Technocrat explained, "Given the news cycles, I'm inclined to believe that they'll strike in the next few days."
"So what's the plan?" X-Treme asked.
"That's simple, just going to wait."
A pause.
"That's it?"
"That's it, because that's all we really can do," stated Mirage, "we're on lock down, effective immediately. No one leaves the Tower. If and when we detect the Soldiers, we need to be ready at a moment's notice," Dani shrugged her shoulders, "Yeah, I know it's not how we usually do things. But like I said, we have zero information on these people. Any questions?"
"Yeah, one," Arsenal's voice sent a sudden chill through the room, "how much force are we supposed to use to bring these guys down?"
"As much as it takes," answered Mirage, "they're ruthless killers. We can't expect any mercy from these people. But we're not killers, we're better than that. Any other questions?"
Silence.
"Then dismissed. Get comfortable, this may be a while."
&&&
"Feel like we're going after the boogey man," Kim stated as the meeting let out.
"Aye, feels…odd, that our plan is to do nothin' at all," Rahne replied, "guess I'll dig up a few books, catch up on me reading."
"Least this gives you an excuse to avoid your old man," Kim observed.
Rahne winced at the other girl's lack of tact, but nodded. It was no secret that she had trouble dealing with her biological father, Reverend Craig, who now claimed he wanted to be a part of her life again.
"Thank heaven for small favors. Kim…did ye know those four who were killed?"
Sabre shook her head, "No, we worked for the same company, but I did different work. I got in so many fights, Irene was probably scared I'd turn them into a super hero team or somethin'."
Rahne shook her head sadly, "An' now ye have to avenge them."
&&&
"Irene?" Namorita knocked on the door twice before entering. The director of World Watch had her chair turned towards the window, staring at everything and nothing at the same time, "I wanted to know if you needed to talk."
"I'm…I'm fine," the older woman choked out.
"I was a little surprised to see you at the briefing today. You usually avoid anything that has to do with out more aggressive side of our partnership," Namorita observed, "why was today any different? I don't mean to pry, but it's fairly obvious that you're not doing well."
Irene spun her chair around so that she was facing Namorita, tears flowing freely down her face, "I…I gathered those four together myself. I called in every favor, looked under every rock for super humans who could help rebuild villages, who could expedite our relief work. Those four youngsters were some of the best that I found. They wanted to be super heroes, but I convinced them that they'd make a difference in the world without resorting to violence. And now they're dead."
"That doesn't mean the good they did died too, Irene. They helped hundreds, I read the files," Namorita countered, "what happened…that wasn't your fault. No one could have predicted they'd be attacked by these monsters."
"I know that, and yet I still can't help but feel responsible."
"I know, but trust me when I say that you did the right thing. I'm from Atlantis, and one solid truth is that those who want to be warriors will find a way. If they really wanted to fight, they would have. But instead, they chose to help the world the best way they knew how," Namorita countered, "and to avenge them, we'll do the same."
&&&
Interlude, Texas
What Max Hampton hated most about this prison wing was how no one looked at him. Max didn't like to be ignored, it hurt his feelings and made the day sad. And when he wasn't ignored, Max received looks of pity which only made him feel worse.
But his response was always the same. The man in the robe said he had to stay in jail because of the trouble he and Billy caused. His lawyer visited every week about his case, but Max didn't like that. The man kept talking about 'death penalty', but Max didn't want to hear that. Only bad people received punishment like that, and Max knew he wasn't bad.
And no matter what his lawyer said, it really was that simple to Max.
So like every day since his arrest and conviction, Max planned to draw pictures of landscapers with his crayons.
He had just finished his second landscape of the day when he looked up to see the prison bars blow away like sand of a beach. Standing at the foot of his cell was a man in shining, sliver armor. The man had flowing, blond hair and wore a sleek, silver armor that covered his upper body . In the center of his chest was a glowing orb that made the hair on the back of Max's head stand on end and shined unlike anything else Max had seen in his thirty years prior.
"Are…are you an angel?" was all Max could think to say.
"No, Max. I'm not," answered the man, "but I am a hero. And I need you for a mission."
"But…I'm supposed to stay here!"
"I know, but that's just a cover story, a lie. No one really wants you to stay here, Max" the man's smiling was polite, charming. His voice drew Max in with every syllable, "and when you complete this mission, your sentence will be commuted."
"I…I don't know…"
"I'm here, aren't I Max?" asked the man, "trust me, I'm going to make you a hero to millions."
Max beamed like a child at Christmas. Growing up, he had always wanted to be a hero. As a cruel twist of irony, that same desire was why he was now on Death Row and why he took his savor's hand without a second thought.
&&&
"Alright, the scanners are warming up," Taki threw a switch on his work-bench and then wheeled his chair around, "anytime you're ready, Clarice."
Blink gripped her signature javelin in one hand and stared at the practice dummy.
"Here goes…" Blink swung her javelin across the dummy and then took a step back. To her amazement, the top half of the dummy fell away to reveal a perfect, clean slice.
"It worked…" Blink breathed in disbelief, "…how did that work?!"
"Your powers allow you to rip asunder and create folds in reality itself," Taki observed, "those javelins I gave you are designed to shape the energy that you use to teleport. Remember how in the past that you've used portals against your enemies?"
Blink nodded, "Yeah, once against a giant snake. But I was only able to do that because it was such a large target. I felt like crap for days afterwards."
"That's simply because you never tried before. Am I correct in assuming that you can feel the energy within the javelins themselves."
"Yeah."
"Good, hopefully with practice, you'll be able duplicate the effect without specially crafted javelins," said Technocrat, "I don't have time to be a weapon's smith, after all."
"I know, you don't even have time to be polite," Blink needled. She twirled the javelins in her hands, and her mind went back to the images of today's briefing, "Thanks, Taki. I think I'm going to enjoy using these."
"You really do mean that. There isn't an ounce of bluster in your voice," observed Taki, "understandable certainly, but may I ask why?"
"Just bad memories from another world."
&&&
"I don't understand," Tarene said simply. She was sitting in Force Works' private library, sitting across from Charlie Burlingame, Charcoal, focusing on their homework. Rather, one of them was while the mind of another drifted.
"Yeah, that's my motto with algebra too," replied Charlie, "but it's either muddle through or get tutored by uber jerk genius."
"No, not that," Tarene shook her head, "about the Soldiers of Misfortune. How can people like that exist? How can Dani say we should hold back?"
"I know what you mean. Sometimes, I think…"
"I won't…" stated Tarene, as if Charlie hadn't opened his mouth, "killing aid workers, innocent people…Bobby was right, we don't owe them any mercy."
Charlie watched as Tarene began to glare at her paper with a passion and animosity that had nothing to do with calculations and decided, against his better judgment decided he had to say something.
"Yeah, we don't. But we're going to give it to them anyways, because that's what we do. We call ourselves heroes, so we got a standard to keep up."
"You saw what they did!" Tarene snapped, "why should give them the respect they never gave their victims?"
"Because they're the bad guys and we ain't," replied Charlie, "why should we change, give up who we are, for bastards like that?"
"It's not giving up," Tarene defended, "it's making an exception…"
"It's quitting. I know because I've been around quitters all my life," Charlie answered, "my dad? He was an idiot who gave up on deciding for himself, so he joined the Imperial Forces. Their damn sales pitch was 'let us tell you what to think!'. My old team gave up on one another, and it got my friend Hallie killed and them leashed by another supervillain. When I joined King Bedlam to kill you guys, I gave up on doing the right thing and would have dug myself deeper into a hole if I hadn't wised up. "
"I guess you're right," Tarene grumbled as she went back to her homework. Charlie could tell she wasn't completely satisfied, but she was placated for now, and he could live with that. A little anger wasn't uncalled for in this situation, after all.
&&&
Hidden just around the door, but just within earshot, Danielle Moonstar had overheard the entire conversation. She stood there for a moment, and then smiled inwardly.
Force Works' mission was always difficult and challenging, but it was very affirming to know that the idealism of the youngest members hadn't been crushed underneath its weight.
Now, if there was only something she could do about Bobby…
&&&
"Rahne, yuir early girl!" Reverend Craig adjusted his collar and then swung open the door to his tiny apartment, motioning for Rahne to enter.
The young Scotswoman entered the apartment slowly, her senses hiding for anyone that may be lurking out of sight. While she was hardly as well trained as Mirage or X-Treme at counter intelligence, Rahne had picked up a few tricks in her career as a heroine. It helped that she still retained sharper than average senses in her human form. They were nothing in comparison to her wolf senses, but they were still a few steps above the average human.
And they were all telling her the same thing. The apartment was empty, save herself and Reverend Craig.
Rahne stepped inside and gave the apartment a once over. The place was a drab, one bedroom apartment. The floor boards were slightly warped, the wall paper was faded, the windows had an excellent view of the alley, in short, it was a cheap apartment Rahne imagined where inhabited by hundreds of less fortunate people.
And one by her father.
"That's because I have to get back to the tower soon," answered Rahne with a clear American accent, "is dinner about ready?"
To her surprise, Reverend Craig actually looked visibly disappointed. Growing up, their dinners had been quiet, sullen affairs treated more as necessity than something that might actually be enjoyed.
"Aye, the steak sh'ld jus' aboot be finished. Why the rush?"
"My team and I are trying to find a team of murderers who killed a dozen AID workers in Burma," Rahne answered coldly. She took a grim satisfaction in watching Reverend Craig recoil in shock. Even if he might have amended his intolerance of mutants (or just made an exception for her, Rahne didn't didn't know), his sexism ran deep. As far as he was concerned, women had no place being anywhere near violence, "we only know that they will strike, not when or where. So we'r
But they both knew that Reverend Craig, after spending so many years causing her nothing but misery and heart ache, had little right to express any disapproval of her life now.
Though as she sat down to dinner and with no small amount of shame, Wolfsbane wished that she was facing the Soldiers instead of her repentant father.
&&&
Clarice Ferguson leaned back in the Easyboy, and stared out into the night sky. Almost everyone else had turned by now, the first day of waiting passing uneventful. Technocrat had rigged up the sensors watching for the Soldiers of Misfortune to internal alarms, so while everyone slept, the search continued.
But despite knowing how important she was to her team actually stopping these bastards, Blink found herself unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, unpleasant memories from another world, dubbed Age of Apocalypse by others (she just called it hell on earth) played out in her head.
So unable to attain sleep in a traditional manner, she thought that some medication might help. Liberating someone's six pack from the fridge (the stickee denoting ownership helpfully teleported itself away rather than disagree with her), and she began to work her way through the team's limited store of alcohol. She started an hour ago and with a modest pace, had worked her way through one six pack and was moving through her second.
"Got one for me?"
Blink glanced up and saw Richard Rider, wearing only a pair of jeans and sleeveless shirt, standing over her. And then she wondered just how far gone was she that she hadn't sensed him approaching.
"Help yourself," said Clarice.
Rich popped off the cap and took deep drink. Like Blink, he took a moment to stare out into space. But unlike Blink, the night sky held no mystery to him. Indeed, it possessed a thousand memories, some of them pleasant, but not most. In fact, it was his memories of space that kept him from sleeping.
"Like a splash of cold water, isn't it?" asked Nova.
"If it is, you really can't hold your beer," Blink remarked dryly.
"Nah," Rich took another drink, "I meant the briefing. Brought back some bad memories. For me, at least and you too, probably."
"Believe me when I say that you've never seen anything like what I've seen," said Clarice, in a much harsher tone than she really meant. Her experiences in that hellish world weren't something she hid from her teammates, but she really tired of people saying that they 'understood' what she went through when they hadn't the slightest idea. Slight envy mixed with mild annoyance and bad memories made her a little more snippy than usual.
"Ever seen anyone vomit out their intestines?" Nova asked casually.
Blink's eye bulged.
"You don't really remember the details," Rich continued, "just the red, green and such mixing together. I swear, I couldn't eat spaghetti for years afterwards."
"Nasty. But have you ever seen a man slowly burned alive?" inquired Blink, "there was this one time, me and Mr. Creed were going to pick up an informant. A Prelate who just got tired of all the blood and finally grew a conscience. Only it was a trap. Blue lips had people waiting for us, and they took us down hard.
"Now, they could have just killed us. But that wasn't their plan, not a first. At the time, Apocalypse thought he could tear us apart mentally. So he put us in chains and slowly had the guy tortured to death," Blink took a deep drink, "now, there's tortured to death, and there's tortured to death. They had a telepath present just to prevent shock. The guy screamed so hard his jaw was torn. By the time the other X-Men finally rescued us, he was just a drooling stump."
"Nasty," Nova shook his head, and didn't bother to ask what happened next, "though not as bad as watching the flesh melt off of a fellow soldier. And I don't mean as no metaphor, neither. I mean it slid off like ice cream off a popsicle on a warm day."
"That's bad, but I kinda doubt it compares to we tried to rescue this one group of human refugees. See, they thought that they'd found a perfect hiding spot inside what they thought was a defunct nuclear reactor. But what they didn't know what that some Prelates had accidently unleashed an experimental bio-weapon…"
Blink and Nova traded stories for several hours. When they finally turned in for the night, they had told one another stories that they had never shared with friends, family or lovers. Only fellow survivors.
&&&
Claxon alarms rang throughout the Tower at mid day. Within minutes, the entire team was gathered in the war room, fully awake and in uniform.
"According to the Shield planetary scanners I hijacked, they're in Brazil," Technocrat brought up the coordinates, "Blink, can you get us there?"
"It looks like a haul, but I can do it," answered Blink, "eight would be best, though."
"I say we go in heavy," Arsenal suggested.
"Alright," said Mirage, "Technocrat, myself, Charcoal and Nita will stay here as backup. Everyone else…get them!"
&&&
Rocinha, Brazil
Rocinha, (Portuguese for 'Small Ranch') was by far Brazil's largest favela, which was nice word for shanty town. It built into the hillside by people too poor to live in the suburbs. It's one saving grace was that in the favela, all were welcome regardless of creed, color or religion. If you were poor and society wanted to ignore that you existed, the favela was where you wanted to be. As a matter of fact, as far as the government of Brazil was concerned, they didn't even officially exist. No power, no utilities and more often than not, no police.
That was something the residents were acutely aware of as they observed several strange individuals stroll down on the favela's largest road. No one saw where they came from, but between their sudden appearance and downright terrifying appearance, no one dared ask. Silently, everyone who saw these strange figures held their breath and prayed to God that these mysterious people weren't there for them.
No one dared run. They knew they couldn't run far or fast enough to escape. All they could do was prey that they weren't targets today.
"I hate this shitty little city," hissed Serpentina. Her lower body was like that of a snake while her upper body was human while her hair was like the Gorgon of myth with hair of hissing snakes, she was the second most hideous Soldier, "when can we leave? This heat is making me sleepy and you won't let me eat anyone."
"Weak flesh bag," sighed her teammate, Flashpoint. A bundle of sentient energy, he interacted with the real world via a containment suit that looked like a cross between medieval armor and a modern day bio-hazard suit. Grey chain mail with a bulky chest plate gave him human form while his face was nothing more than a simmering plastic screen, "you can't even control your basic desires for a single day."
"Go to hell, spark in a can."
"Cool it, both of you," ordered Cerberus. He was a tall Caucasian man with tattoos on each arm, hair cut short, worn leather jacket and flanked by two mechanical dogs that reached his waist. Their teeth were razor sharp and mimiced the nasty disposition one might expect of the most vicious guard dog.
Without hesitation, both Soldiers quit their griping and turned their eyes forward.
"This is going to be an easy one," Cerberus explained, "we're looking for a little snitch who squirreled himself away around here. But the client wants a confirmed kill so unless you want to spend hours digging through rubble for a head, reign it in until we're done. I want to finish this quick and little fuss. I don't want to make a mess until it's all over."
The Soldiers of Misfortune nodded, and then watched in shock as an emerald beam of energy lanced down from the sky and struck down their leader. A split second later, they heard several distinctive –blink!- noises.
"Why wait?"
The brutal mercenaries looked around to see X-Treme and Blink side by side, weapons expertly held at the ready. Tarene hovered in the air as the electricity began to fill the air. Arsenal and Wolfsbane stood at the front, claws bared in a manner that seemed hungry for blood. Vibraxis and Sabre stood on opposite ends of the street, each ready with a hair trigger.
Nova descended from the sky, the sun reflecting off the polished blue and gold of his uniform perfect. The Human Rocket didn't puff out his chest, nor did he flex a single muscle. If the energy that rolled off his body like smoke from a burning building didn't convince them of his power, nothing would.
"It's over now, but we're more than ready to make mess!"
Next: Force Works vs. the Soldiers of Misfortune!
***
Author's notes: I've always felt that a hero team needed an opposing team that was utterly ruthless and equaled if not exceeded them in terms of raw power. And that's what the Soldiers of Misfortune are to Force Works. After this encounter, Force Works will never be the same.