Chapter 10: I Voted
Glasses glinting, the mustachioed, middle-aged anchorman speaks, "Good evening, America. Welcome to the Cable-1 Evening News this Election Day. I'm Charles Irwin [see Incredible Hulk Annual #7].
"We have a lot to cover tonight—as our audience can imagine. There is a lively presidential election occurring at this very moment between conservative challenger Ken Wind and liberal incumbent Rex Carpenter. From Madawaska, Maine, to Honolulu, Hawaii, polls are still open, and they present particularly high voter turnout.
"However, to our amazement in the media, the presidential contest cannot be our top story this November 5, 2024, for unprecedented unrest has rattled our nation from New York, New York, to Newport Beach, California. Across the country, both right-wingers and left-wingers have, well, lost their f* minds. Katie Burns starts out our coverage of cringeworthy crumbs. Kate."
Cable-1's camera goes to Midtown Manhattan. A doe-eyed, bouffant-crowned brunette in a green blazer (see Captain America #237) stands before a blaze at 5th Avenue. Behind her, frenzied fools frolic about an immense bonfire over which supervillain Firebrand floats like the avatar of Fahrenheit 451. The bawdy, barmy Bombshells are actually having a book burning at the New York Public Library! Gen Z self-actualizes! Like barbarians, youngblood Bohemians (perhaps bourgeois enough to afford college but too brutish and blockheaded to attend their brains) have besieged the revered building and dumped boxes of books upon the Bryant Park lawn before the landmark. Through billowing smoke, cute Katie Burns beelines with microphone thrust before her.
"Hey, how come you're doing this?" Burns asks one arsonist anarchist.
"To promote tolerance!" a troll tosses To Kill a Mockingbird.
"These texts contain the n-word—which I think is 'knowledge'!" another "nobly" knocks and nudges a lot of American literature, from Faulkner to Ellison to Twain to Baldwin to American Heritage, into the inferno.
"We want freedom and respect for all!" one wails before whipping others' sacred texts.
"This isn't combustion culture. This is consequence culture," a crazed kid casts "corrupt", "colonialist" composition into the conflagration.
A fellow incendiary adds "celebrate all voices" and flings a few anthologies on the fire.
"These are hard to read," rails a goon undergrad, and a Shakespeare set sails to blazes.
"I can't read an entire book!" bellows a Bombshell, "I can barely read at all!" A firebrand beneath Firebrand sets several slim volumes alight.
Bullrushing Katie, a zealous Zoomer booms "whatever, Boomer", whether Burns be baby boomer or not. The bouncing boob only wants his message—of buzzwords and catchphrases—broadcasted. In most mobs, most protesters are not mages and sages, eloquent and sophisticated, but rather purely provoked pawns, precocious posers, plain punks, the impetuously prejudiced, and partiers.
Frowning, Katie Burns kens that she has footage fit for a contemporary newsfeed. In it, faux philosophers flock together to force change fruitful to their faction by whatever filthy means "necessary".
"Back to you, Chuck," says the reporter with a sigh.
The Cable-1 screen shifts to Charles P. Irwin in the studio. His over-the-shoulder screen shows Human Torch and Mr. Fantastic arrive at the library scene. Johnny Storm steals the stupendous flame with a swipe of his hand, and consummate scholar Reed Richards looks mighty miffed and mad.
However, Irwin announces the heroes' arrival not, for he already has other Fantastic Four dispatch on a very busy news night. "We now go to Jessica Sparling [see Incredible Hulk Annual #9] and Laura Marshall [see Avengers v.7 #1.1] beholding more Bombshell bedlam brought upon Manhattan landmarks. Jess, what just happened at the Baxter Building?"
Bemused Sparling reports from a wrecked Baxter Building lobby where Bombshells riot. Like astir cockroach vermin, they converge upon the first-floor sculpture of the Fantastic Four (see Amazing Spider-Man v.4 #3). They throw chain fetters upon the offensive idols at the former Four Freedoms Plaza, and they madly jerk at the public art (of the establishment's esteemed) like a pack of asses. Powerfully progressive, the Bombshells try pulling down the degenerate art of a disabled woman—who happens to be called "Masters".
You see, social media has suggested that no one should have the surname Masters; it is one's shame. And, some social influencer (secretly a rat-bastard, tin-god CEO) has informed suckers of Alicia Masters' dirty secret—that Puppet Master is her uncle. Although, that is already very public knowledge if young people just know their history. Also, internet rumor indicates that the Fantastic Four have acquired the Negative Zone. That sets the Bombshells off. Negativity is their thing!
Jessica Sparling covers the jejune dumb tuggers futilely yanking away. Some invisible thing keeps the concrete mass from toppling atop them. Maybe, it is contradictory decency. Perhaps, it is a decent hero concealed during civil chaos; perhaps, it is a Thing made invisible.
Across Manhattan a mite, Avengers Mansion sits nigh Central Park. And, an angry mob acts there too. Cable-1's feed presents their futile efforts to climb and conquer the twelve-foot concrete rampart surrounding the esteemed estate while reporter Laura Marshall "does the call" as if at a silly sports contest. With ropes and tackle, Bombshells go for the mansion's back garden. There, statues of the six founding Avengers stand (the original five plus Captain America), and the feisty besiegers hanker to snare them in hemp and savagely haul them down while spray-painting snarky s* on some superheroes' home.
However, Tony Stark, Iron Man, isn't stupid. At the Howard Stark Mansion, he has installed excellent advanced defense systems able to hinder and handle most any invaders, from monstrous foes to mere maniacs. AI-abled security cameras spot and assess today's aspiring intruders. Then, stun cannons zap looneys limp and snagging detention coils zip captured lunkheads away. Like a shepherd's sling, each steel coil releases leftist ragamuffins through adjacent Central Park's fall foliage.
"F*!" declares on-air Laura Marshall on the airborne.
Abruptly, Irwin reappears on America's screens. Stone-faced, the veteran newsman ignores the aired obscenity. It is but entertainment, as news is nowadays.
"Thank you, Ms. Marshall in madcap Manhattan," comments Charles, "Our coverage now goes to Newport Beach, California, where W.T. Rogers [see Incredible Hulk #463] reports on reprovable ruckus there."
"Thank you, anchorman Irwin," replies W.T. Rogers from his live shot. His wild, wiry gray hair shakes in the afternoon ocean breeze as setting sunlight shimmers upon old-fashioned square spectacles.
W.T. sucks his gray goatee a sec or two. Then, he says, "Sadly, egregious aggression occurs along the Pacific over yon this Election Day. Follow my cameraman and me through the bevy of bystanders before Balboa Beach where a severe beating takes place."
Rogers walks into the first circle of spectators. They are those everyday gawkers who simply rubberneck at a neighbor's woe and shake their heads. They are Americans experiencing an amalgam of apathy and impotence.
The intrepid journalist enters the second circle of sightseers. Like the wicked, they reprehensibly record with smartphones while the horrible happens—but do nothing to help. Like the ethereal ghosts of a great land, they don't grab the goons ganging-up on a gashed, gory gal or go rescue the wretched. Almost like revenants of a once exemplary nation, they soullessly narrate a savage sight blow-by-blow, plan to post it later, and neglect any duty, empathy, or decency that humans with beating hearts might heed.
Past the wraiths, W.T. Rogers wends through the circle of police passively watching several assailants rigorously assault a single, sorry victim. The veteran pressman doesn't pose queries to the complacent cops, for he can anticipate their excuses for inaction. The authorities do not want to arrest anyone anymore than the courts want to confine anyone arrested or convicted. The streets do not need strict sentries; they need soft social workers. Communal guardians need feel a group guilt over past injustices done for justice's sake. So, certain scumbags get gross laxity.
For example, these Lords of the Living Lightning—before the camera lens—were looting before blithely loping to the shore. And, their "redistributed wealth" sits in a circle around them in which they savagely beat, bloody, bully, break, and bitch-slap a Black Spectre member. But, the cops are not going to be politically-incorrect. They are not going to be insensitive toward cult members, members of a religious and ethnic minority, who appear to also be unhoused. Not in Pres. Rex Carpenter's wild kingdom.
The sovereign citizen LLL lummoxes lift the limp BS lady and slam her headfirst into the sand. Early in this assault, they dislodged her protective helmet. The hoodlums lunge hard and stomp her blue bodysuit. Blood escapes her bloating lips. One Lord loops her armpits and hefts her upright. Another buffets the black militant like a boxer's practice bag while a third pisses on the political pamphlets that she was distributing today as people headed to the polls. He angrily announces the tracts' error.
Apparently, the handbills are pro-choice and otherwise progressive. Ergo, the arch-conservative Lords objected to them when encountering Spectre and circulars in the amusement park, located but east of the beach. An animated, boisterous, belligerent discussion ensued. It escalated. One domestic terrorist drew her gun as she would dare on Daredevil back in the day (see Daredevil #110-112). In turn, three other domestic terrorists forcefully disarmed her and dragged her from the Balboa Fun Zone to the strand. Once there, they transformed into a three-man monster beating her in incredible bulk: broken bones, external bruising, internal bleeding. The Hulk has inspired them from time immemorial (see Tales to Astonish #97-99). Perhaps, that is why the brutes make cogent political points by cracking her one.
Bravely, Rogers approaches the good Lords for an interview. The jaunty journalist juts a mic, "You have won an argument through violence. What are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to Tinlaw World!" gloats goon grinning grandly.
Curtly, Cable-1 cuts to commercials. Agatha All Along advertises its internet availability for the interested. Immediately after, an appeal from Silver Dagger's Sword of the Lord solicits donations. Then a drug ad airs, one from Fisk Pharmaceuticals. Roxxon Energy Corporation comes on and defends it ubiquitous oil production. Super-criminal Golddigger is a comely spokesperson. Suddenly, a trailer for The First Thanksgiving plays. Jonathon Majors is William Bradford. Lindsay McCabe is Squanto. Trevor Slattery is Solomon Kane. N'Kantu the Living Mummy is a turkey. Also starring Impy the Impossible Man, Obnoxio the Clown, and CGI Karen Page (since she's dead). Produced by Mojoverse Studios. In theatres Wednesday, November 27.
Brief black screen.
Charles is back. Irwin utters "welcome back" to the viewers. Cheerfully, he shares, "Election Day can be a day full of traditions, and this Decision Day is no different. Once again, America has a mass shooting to report. This one in Eden, Vermont. Apparently, an armed incel popped about thirteen people because they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.
"However, we here at Cable-1 News nihilistically recognize that narcissists popping suckas and killing m* is just the new normal. And, 2024 is not twenty years ago. In the now, we Americans, whether online or in the streets, are numb, nasty, nettled, neutered, ignobly negligent, unnaturally neutral, or. . . . ."
Click. Channel changes.
Craig Hollis, hero Mr. Immortal, can only witness so much national rubbish from his Milwaukee sofa. Distinct disgust directs the Great Lakes Avenger's thumb digit to abandon Irwin's DC telecast for something likably different. Local news ought to do.
Up in Oshkosh, some idiot attempted to vote under both "Karl Kaufmann" and his own name. When asked to comment, the man explained "but, it's not wrong when I do it". Later, the lout voted as Stan Lee in Stanley, Wisconsin, population 3800.
In suburb Shorewood, Chicago comic Griffin Gogol got shot on stage for telling an evidently offensive joke. He asked a comedy club "what do you call displaced Atlanteans at the bottom of the ocean?" and answered "a good start". The would-be assassin screamed "social justice is served" and shot the stand-up flat. Fortunately, comic Gogol is Captain Ultra who kipped up, cracked wise, cracked a bad guy.
A half-score league from Hollis, fellow hero Johnny Blaze sits shaking his head at a screen in Waukegan, Illinois, Blaze's boyhood home. Ghost Rider ganders the goings-on in Shorewood and is sure that the whole country is going to Hell. By him, an open, known, and avowed Son of the Serpent runs for school board in McHenry County. And, the schools suck enough in that county as is!
A big bound away from Blaze, Dianne Bellamy (see Incredible Hulk #315-323) with BNBC interviews folks at Sam's Diner in Santa Fe, New Mexico (see Original Sin Annual #1 & Hulk v.2 #21). The TV reporter and her red bob hair and green business suit bebop from table to table this Election Day evening.
She queries feeding folks and diner diners, "Who do you hope wins Washington by Wednesday morn?"
At one booth, a man admits, "We citizens are screwed whether it's Carpenter or Wind, after the Jackasses and GOP only offered us them."
At another, a woman remarks, "We Americans are cooked if Carpenter continues. Consider the crap committed with the economy, uncontrolled immigration, college loans, criminal law, and multiculturalism."
Across from Mom, her child quietly colors a GOP coloring book with a purple crayon and makes Wind resemble the Purple Man, king of all he kookily controls.
Across the dining room, Dianne meets a man who remarks, "If Wind returns, we're f(bleep)ed.
Rex Carpenter represents reason over the rude, weird, and rogue. Rex represents the actual regal. He epitomizes high evolution through progressive policy. We will all be new men with him guiding the American experiment. We just need to let Carpenter build a new country counter to our known own. The U.S. has an abominable history and culture led by abominations—white males. However, under our current president, America is alive. It's alive!"
At the table, a transgender damsel doodles on a placemat with pencil. A picture presents Carpenter as a king (i.e. rex) or armored knight atop a purple mountain majesty above a fruited plain. Around him, fuzzy figures frolic through the Land of the Free.
Correspondent Bellamy steps her heels to Sam's lunch counter, this late afternoon, where a couple of guys consume coffee and chat. Inexplicably, one is Clay Quartermain who Dianne recognizes immediately. The SHIELD agent and she hunted the Hulk here in New Mexico a mite back. Quartermain even unlawfully confined her crew and her (see Incredible Hulk #315). They laugh now. The character beside Clay is forgotten Kropotkin the Great. The Great has faded from prominence since the Hulk leapt out of the pompous prestidigitator's life after a few adventures (see Incredible Hulk #225-228). Clay and Kropotkin have no comment on the White House campaign. They want simply to converse over "the creature . . . driven by rage"—the current country.
Behind Bellamy, a mounted television plays a different news channel than BNBC, and beautiful blonde anchorbabe Megan McLaren pulls people's peepers to her report. Zoned gazes zoom in.
August Avengers and Thunderbolts annalist McLaren moonlights, from NYC's WJBP, at Fact Channel News' national desk. Deftly, maven Megan manages the Election Night broadcast. Despite the spectacular and widespread civil unrest, she started the evening news with veteran Vince McCannon (see Despicable Deadpool #300), revered newsman, at the election board. Perhaps predictably, nothing was too notable at 18:00 Eastern Time; however, habitually angry analyst McCannon made exit polls hotly interesting anyway. He screamed bloody murder about everything; that's entertainment. After Vince (and his vitriol), Mort McSweeny (see Civil War II: Choosing Sides #3), beside Megan McLaren, co-anchored a crumb by mentioning the conflagration outside the New York Public Library. Callow kids and Firebrand were really getting their asses kicked by Mr. Fantastic and Human Torch. Megan transitioned to events at Avengers Mansion and the Baxter Building. Then, McClaren promised that Tank McNamara was coming up with sports.
After an ad break, hot mama Megan McLaren, bare feet on the desk, throws things to cute blonde Meggan McCambridge (see West Coast Avengers #92) who provides a special report on rising sea levels around the U.S. It seems that Florida is increasingly flooded as are all Atlantic states, Alabama, Alaska, and Oregon. In theory, there will eventually be oceanfront property in Arizona. When reached for comment, Water Wizard, the Wingless Wizard, the Weathermen (see Avengers #210), Warlord Krang, wrathful Typhon, warlock Kaluu, and wretched Dagon all wished that it were them. But, humble humanity did it to itself.
Elsewhere in TV land, Trish Tilby talks on SNN. She checks her Vermin Louse watch (with its hands in everything) and cheerfully covers the next bad news.
Twinkle in her eye, anchor Trish teleconferences with Watchdog head Harold Simmons in Tennessee. The Watchdog militant has nicely removed his helmet, meant for protection, disguise, and terror. Like a wolfish totem, the wear keeps tense watch from the coffee table in Harold's Hickman County home.
Lead Dog Simmons states, "This evening, Ken Wind represents reason for hope for our rotting republic. He represents hope for redemption. Amen I say to you, he was once one of those dumb Democrats [see Elektra: Assassin LS, and he is now a keen, clear-headed conservative." The dog does a s*-eating grin.
"I see," says Trish, "How exactly will Wind rejuvenate our weary realm?"
"For one thing," Watchdog peers into webcam, "Pres. Wind promises to send mutants to camps and put Sentinels in the sky so that our streets are safer after Wonder Rex allowed unchecked evolution the last four years."
"Days of future past," pronounces Tilby through pursed lips.
"Poppycock, ma'am," replies Southern gent Simmons (see Captain America #335), "Our candidate's ploy has nothing to do with alarmist fiction. I ain't never read the 1981 picture books, but I seen the 2014 movie. And, nothing like 'days of future past' has ever happened in America's past or the future!"
"Hasn't happened in the future?" Trish remarks.
Momentarily, Dog eyes dart in confusion. Hurriedly, Harry wags a finger, "Well, my point is this. Kenneth Wind has promised to target only Evil Mutants and leave, like, the X-Men alone—for now. He just wants to remove the super-villains from the streets."
"You do realize that superpowered villains are the exception, right?" Tilby takes issue, "Most Americans should worry about the everyday robbers, rapists, rabid juvenile delinquents, and enraged nobodies residing around them in real life. They should disregard the demonized mutant outliers overly emphasized in anti-mutant propaganda and illustrated mags." Ideally, journalists are objective, but this ally has been an advocate for the Children of the Atom over the years.
Harry yawps his yuck. He half-yells at his screen, "Hey, hear this! Neither the Republicans nor the Watchdogs are anti-mutant! They are pro-human and pro-safe and pro-normal! We Watchdogs are the real Americans and so are our supporters!
"We real, actual Americans want to walk down the road and everyone looks normal, not like Morlocks from The Time Machine. We want Magneto's Acolytes unable to attack our government, Mystique's Freedom Force unable to infiltrate it (as they publicly did in the '90s), the Resistants unable to protest it, Gamma Flight unable to get our tax dollars, and Students for Tolerance [see Chamber LS] unable to miseducate our college youth."
"Gamma Flight is Canadian," Tilby interjects, "And, they are neither exclusively mutant nor criminal."
"Gee," the bigoted schlub shrugs, "I still hope they never cross our borders or use our bathrooms."
The SNN anchor goes silent and scrunches her eyes, irritated. The twinkle of late has left. Tersely, she poses another inquiry.
"Do you know what a slippery slope is, Mr. Simmons?" Trish snaps.
"Sure, I was educated back when education was education," explains Harry, "Rhetorically, a slippery slope argument occurs when a party claims that one circumstance will inevitably lead to another, generally a bad one. Sometimes, the party is correct, and, other times, the person is not. For example, some folks claim that exposure to violent literature—such as horror movies—leads to violent behavior in the world. Generally, rational beings consider such concern specious. However, in another example, a kid may ask his parent permission to do homework later and go out with friends now. In turn, the parent may prohibit the kid because the elder knows, just knows, how things will play out, with the schoolwork never getting done.
"The slippery slope is a metaphor, for one thing will supposedly slide down into another."
"Sure," Tilby shows mild surprise that Simmons isn't all idiotic, "I am glad to interview a man educated before the Millennials and Gen Z. Which is to say that he's educated."
"Yupper," the Watchdog winks wryly, "Do you have another question, ma'am?"
"Yes," the anchor answers, "You have said that the Watchdogs want to regulate and restrict criminal mutant mayhem. However, how does one avoid a slippery slope? How does one avoid sliding into stigmatizing all mutants of all sorts? One man's dangerous terrorist is the next guy's dashing hero."
"Ain't that the truth," states Watchdog Simmons, human supremacist, domestic terrorist, and (in some quarters) valiant vigilante.
"Although," adds simpleton Simmons, "I honestly wouldn't mind if all mutants suffered. In modern America, it's all us-versus-them anyway by our identity markers. We have the factionalism against which Alexander Hamilton warned in The Federalist Papers. In such fractious context, it isn't wrong when I follow 'by any means necessary' to assure my sect's survival, and it isn't wrong when you do it neither."
For a tick, Tilby prepares a peeved reply. However, her progressive producer promptly pulls the plug on the interview. Thereby, in 2024, the public is protected from problematic discussion. Progressives and the patriotic both want a free press—free of counterpoint.
Somewhere, a weary American clicks the clicker.
Back in California, Tracy Warner warns viewers how s* Central City has become. It was once the proud and honorable home of the Fantastic Four and Machine Man. Each entity brought a heroic age to the town and surrounding area. Now, Central City, California, has essentially disappeared.
And, it was not the Hulk who wrecked it to ruins as he might have when smashing the criminal Corporation (see Incredible Hulk #235). Nor was the culprit Reed Richards who negated the community into an alternative timeline (see Fantastic Four #295). Rather, reckless legislation, well-intended, has resulted in unregulated, errant immigration and rampant retail robbery that have gutted this Golden State city, and others, until it is unrecognizable.
Somewhere in the United States, a thumb twitches on a remote control, and the channel switches.
On ABS, Tapping Tommy, in top hat and tuxedo, takes the feel-good piece tacked on after all of a day's terrible news. Tonight, his heels clickety-clack along Topeka's 10th Avenue in Kansas. Tapping Tommy, hustling his hoofs, gives some song and dance about a divided country and the deleterious effects of. He hopes his warning isn't lost on people's tympanic membranes, whether they be conservative or liberal. Pearly teeth smiling, the treacly type talks to us before the Memorial Building, commemorating America's last Civil War, for the Memorial Building is the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) Memorial Hall. It a bit represents Bloody Kansas, the brutal tumult between 1854 to 1859, the beginning to the bigger War Between the States.
Perhaps a tad tritely, Tapping Tommy tenderly appeals to our better angels as the nation is again a tinderbox teetering above Tartarus' tenebrous flames. The former Tinlaw darling, of the company's bygone era, tenaciously dances, ardently talks, and tacitly takes viewers to task. Truthfully, typical American, you should treat others as you would be treated. So say texts from the New Testament to Berenstain Bears and the Golden Rule to Ketchum's The Woman. Otherwise, you risk the troubles that the U.S. and Tapping Tommy each once had. From 1861 to 1865, the U.S. Confederacy formed, FA, and FO to the tune of 258,000 fatalities. Finagling, felicity, and fraternity would have been favorable. Similarly, Tapping Tommy took on the raging Hulk and the Defenders (see Defenders #30) and got this tuchus handed to him. Be careful what trail that you are on.
Blip! The Cable-1 broadcast comes back.
"And, that's the news," announces Irwin before all goes black.