Chapter Nine: The Impalement Arts
By C.M. King
The high-pitched clink of Hawkeye’s lock bursting open resounded throughout the darkened room. A few seconds later the now useless chains fall to the ground with a dull clang. Freed from his confines, the archer speeds purposely across the room. A convenient piece of metal provides him with the means to pry open the locked cupboard where his bow and arrows are held. “I’ve been feeling naked without these,” thinks the bowman to himself. “If Hawkeye’s gonna save the day again, he’s gonna need to be fully armed.”
As the hero revels in his newfound fortune, a link of the discarded chain floats noiselessly behind him just out of sight. Suddenly one end of the chain wraps itself around Hawkeye’s left leg - then pulls itself quickly backwards dumping the startled bowman headfirst onto the floor.
“My-my, you Avengers are resourceful aren’t you? Still, it’s nothing like enough,” mocks an amused Dymium.
In one swift motion, Hawkeye loads and fires an arrow straight at his nemesis. With great glee, Dymium uses her power to cause the arrow to turn sharply when it gets near her and crash harmlessly into the wall.
“Face it, William Tell; my magnetic powers are too much for you. My reverse polarity field won’t let your weapons through if I don’t wish it.”
Then channeling her power through her gun for better focus, Dymium causes Hawkeye’s bow to fly away from him sharply and land across the room.
“And without your bow, you are helpless.”
Her magnetism then incites some random metal objects in the room to slam into Hawkeye, knocking him over. Dymium stands over the fallen archer and points the end of her gun-like prop at him with an evil smile on her face.
“Goodbye, hero. You will not be missed.”
Unexpectedly, Hawkeye snatches an arrow out of his quiver and slams it into her arm with a blinding speed. The arrow gives the woman an electric shock. “Don’t cry for me yet, Argentina! I’ve got more fight in me than that,” announces the bowman as he gets back up to his feet.
“Damn you, Avenger. I’ll rip your heart out if I must!” On her hands and knees, Dymium surges her power again, once more making Hawkeye the target of flying metal objects. Staggering over on wobbly legs, Hawkeye reaches the villainess and slaps her into unconsciousness. “Sleep it off, sister!”
Alone and out of breath, he muses to himself, “I hated doing that more than I thought I would. In a way, I kinda liked her, but she’s clearly on the wrong side. She even called me, ‘hero’ like it was a dirty word. But I’ve learned my lesson about bad girls by now.”
Further reflection is lost as held-back pain finally clouds the Avenger’s head. Then his battered body betrays him as he collapses to the floor and into darkness himself.
NEXT: No One Here Gets Out Alive!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Weakest Link in the Chain, Part 8
Chapter Eight: The Flim-Flam Man
By C.M. King
“What the crud?!”
The Falcon awakens to find himself in a bizarre imprisonment. He is suspended in a room by his hands, which are tied over his head to a length of rope that hangs from the ceiling and leaves him perched against the far wall. Under his feet, a small shelf is all he has to prop himself up on. Surrounding him are dozens of ceremonial-looking candles that burn intently and seem to be placed everywhere in the room. And most shockingly of all, upon the far wall rests the painted symbol of a yellow circle with a deathly skull within and six tentacled-limbs protruding from it.
“Either this is this most F’ed Up dream I’ve ever had, or ..”
A man with a rifle cuts him off who is dressed in the familiar green and gold-trimmed garb of Hydra. “Shut up, you vermin! You now serve those that the whole world shall shortly serve!”
“Oh my god, you guys again?! Since when did morons like you get into the Asgardian kidnapping game?” and who they hell were those costumed bozos?”
“The fate of the Avengers are none of your concern. You should worry about remaining alive. For even if you could even manage to cut off one of our limbs…”
Sam interrupts him. “Yeah - yeah, I heard that dumbass record before, and it gets no easier to listen to each time.”
“Stupid, mongrel!” The henchman exits the room and slams the door in disgust.
Alone once again in his confinement, Sam Wilson plots a path to his freedom. A row of burning candles on a shelf above his head and to the right give him an idea. He uses his great acrobatic skill to climb the wall with his powerful legs while his hands hold the rope for support. When he has gained enough altitude, he kicks out in a small swing just far enough to knock over one of the burning candles. Through painful contortion, he manages to position part of his rope over the displaced flame until it has burned through one end. Five minutes later the Falcon is completely free of his bonds. A quick check of his own person turns up his Avengers communicard, although it is in a very damaged and bent condition. Luck holds out for Sam as he is able to send a signal that is answered by the Avenger on monitor duty, Wonder Man.
“Simon, am I so glad to be talking to you! I’ve been captured by some Hydra goons who were incidentally powerful enough to capture Thor as well. I tried to contact you guys before, did you get my message?”
“We received a message from you last night, but it was too badly garbled to decipher. We’ve been trying to call you back ever since with no luck. Glad to hear you’re still alive, bro.”
The Falcon relays all the details that he has quickly. After the conversation, he tries to formulate a plan on what he will do until the Avengers arrive. He fails to make contact with Red Wing, which worries him not a little. Then he finds a piece of wood he intends to use as a club. However, before he can do anything more, the room is flooded with a thick knock-out gas that sedates him instantly. After the fumes have dispersed, a section of the wall rolls up to reveal the presence of the entire Malevolence Union.
Othello changes his form from his Hyrda lackey disguise, to his true identity. “And so the trap is set. It is crucial to my plans that the entire active roster of the Avengers be destroyed within the next 12 hours. After that, the risk is too great that one of the disappearances will raise an alarm.” He points a menacing finger at the fallen Falcon. “And this intruding imbecile gave me exactly what I needed to bait the mousetrap. I can only impersonate appearances with my Lamprey Stone, not voices. But with him …” Othello switches on a small tape recorder in his hand. The Falcon’s voice plays loud and clear: “Bring everyone you got to the address given, or follow my card’s signal.”
The villain continues his explanation. “So I decided to relay his previous message as indecipherable to allow the troops to be concerned enough to gather. Then I let this fool be able to escape long enough to relay a message full of only enough information to lead his friends straight to slaughter.”
“Damn, you’re sneaky, Big O! I’d definitely rather be with ya than against ya,” chimes in a happy Dymium. “But why all the theatrics in there?”
“I find your practicality particularly appealing, my dear. And I want the Avengers unprepared for what awaits them. They now think they only have an unsuspecting Hydra battalion to deal with. And after their deaths, we will make sure that Hydra gets all the blame.”
“Thulkon scratches his head. “But why wouldn’t we want the credit for what we did? And why not just dispose of the ones we already have before the others get here?”
“Because Hero deaths’ will be poured over closely. If we want to get out of this blameless, we need to make sure they all die together in one great big accident. I estimate that a state funereal for several fallen Avengers will cause all the others to turn up. While they deal with their grief and pursue the hopeless Hydra lead, we will finish the unsuspecting lot.”
In the following silence, Othello walks over to the corner to pick up a hence unnoticed item sitting in the shadows. The armament looks like a high-tech rifle that has a small, parabolic-shaped dish at its end. “And to do that ... I’ve prepared to greet the Avengers properly when they arrive.”
NEXT: Lucky Break.
By C.M. King
“What the crud?!”
The Falcon awakens to find himself in a bizarre imprisonment. He is suspended in a room by his hands, which are tied over his head to a length of rope that hangs from the ceiling and leaves him perched against the far wall. Under his feet, a small shelf is all he has to prop himself up on. Surrounding him are dozens of ceremonial-looking candles that burn intently and seem to be placed everywhere in the room. And most shockingly of all, upon the far wall rests the painted symbol of a yellow circle with a deathly skull within and six tentacled-limbs protruding from it.
“Either this is this most F’ed Up dream I’ve ever had, or ..”
A man with a rifle cuts him off who is dressed in the familiar green and gold-trimmed garb of Hydra. “Shut up, you vermin! You now serve those that the whole world shall shortly serve!”
“Oh my god, you guys again?! Since when did morons like you get into the Asgardian kidnapping game?” and who they hell were those costumed bozos?”
“The fate of the Avengers are none of your concern. You should worry about remaining alive. For even if you could even manage to cut off one of our limbs…”
Sam interrupts him. “Yeah - yeah, I heard that dumbass record before, and it gets no easier to listen to each time.”
“Stupid, mongrel!” The henchman exits the room and slams the door in disgust.
Alone once again in his confinement, Sam Wilson plots a path to his freedom. A row of burning candles on a shelf above his head and to the right give him an idea. He uses his great acrobatic skill to climb the wall with his powerful legs while his hands hold the rope for support. When he has gained enough altitude, he kicks out in a small swing just far enough to knock over one of the burning candles. Through painful contortion, he manages to position part of his rope over the displaced flame until it has burned through one end. Five minutes later the Falcon is completely free of his bonds. A quick check of his own person turns up his Avengers communicard, although it is in a very damaged and bent condition. Luck holds out for Sam as he is able to send a signal that is answered by the Avenger on monitor duty, Wonder Man.
“Simon, am I so glad to be talking to you! I’ve been captured by some Hydra goons who were incidentally powerful enough to capture Thor as well. I tried to contact you guys before, did you get my message?”
“We received a message from you last night, but it was too badly garbled to decipher. We’ve been trying to call you back ever since with no luck. Glad to hear you’re still alive, bro.”
The Falcon relays all the details that he has quickly. After the conversation, he tries to formulate a plan on what he will do until the Avengers arrive. He fails to make contact with Red Wing, which worries him not a little. Then he finds a piece of wood he intends to use as a club. However, before he can do anything more, the room is flooded with a thick knock-out gas that sedates him instantly. After the fumes have dispersed, a section of the wall rolls up to reveal the presence of the entire Malevolence Union.
Othello changes his form from his Hyrda lackey disguise, to his true identity. “And so the trap is set. It is crucial to my plans that the entire active roster of the Avengers be destroyed within the next 12 hours. After that, the risk is too great that one of the disappearances will raise an alarm.” He points a menacing finger at the fallen Falcon. “And this intruding imbecile gave me exactly what I needed to bait the mousetrap. I can only impersonate appearances with my Lamprey Stone, not voices. But with him …” Othello switches on a small tape recorder in his hand. The Falcon’s voice plays loud and clear: “Bring everyone you got to the address given, or follow my card’s signal.”
The villain continues his explanation. “So I decided to relay his previous message as indecipherable to allow the troops to be concerned enough to gather. Then I let this fool be able to escape long enough to relay a message full of only enough information to lead his friends straight to slaughter.”
“Damn, you’re sneaky, Big O! I’d definitely rather be with ya than against ya,” chimes in a happy Dymium. “But why all the theatrics in there?”
“I find your practicality particularly appealing, my dear. And I want the Avengers unprepared for what awaits them. They now think they only have an unsuspecting Hydra battalion to deal with. And after their deaths, we will make sure that Hydra gets all the blame.”
“Thulkon scratches his head. “But why wouldn’t we want the credit for what we did? And why not just dispose of the ones we already have before the others get here?”
“Because Hero deaths’ will be poured over closely. If we want to get out of this blameless, we need to make sure they all die together in one great big accident. I estimate that a state funereal for several fallen Avengers will cause all the others to turn up. While they deal with their grief and pursue the hopeless Hydra lead, we will finish the unsuspecting lot.”
In the following silence, Othello walks over to the corner to pick up a hence unnoticed item sitting in the shadows. The armament looks like a high-tech rifle that has a small, parabolic-shaped dish at its end. “And to do that ... I’ve prepared to greet the Avengers properly when they arrive.”
NEXT: Lucky Break.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Weakest Link in the Chain, Part 7
Chapter Seven: When it Rains...
By C.M. King
A squeaking noise down the hall forces Hawkeye to have to quickly hide his detached arrowhead in his mouth so as not to be discovered. But the sight he beholds stings him even more than the arrow’s point against his cheek. Dr. Bruttus comes into the room pushing a bound and unconscious Thor on a large cart past the captive bowman. His hammer is nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t be so lonely kid; soon all your friends are gonna be here too. Hah!” The henchman continues on through another door to place the Thunder God in his strict confinement. Left alone again, Hawkeye moves the arrowhead to his tunic for safer keeping.
“Mrs. Barton’s boy Clint better make like Houdini and soon before there is no team left to be saved. I just can’t believe things can be as bad as they look,” thinks the sullen archer to himself.
Just then Dymium pokes her head into the room. “How’s my favorite wall decoration doing? Poor thing …you look like you need some perking up. Want a soda? I can feed it to you … if you promise to be nice.” However, the villainess’ cattiness is cut short by Red Wind’s voice.
“Dymium, get over here quick! Othello says something important is up.”
The woman exits the room (giving a playful wave) leaving the Avenger alone once more to his urgent scheming.
******
Outside the Union’s hideout, hovering against the blackness of the night, the Falcon radios an urgent warning into his communicard. “I repeat, I’ve tracked some mysterious ‘big bads’ to a building downtown. A downed Thor was taken inside. Repeat: Thor was taken down! Bring everyone you got to the address given, or follow my card’s signal. I’ll keep surveillance until you arrive.”
After finding a good hidden vantage point, the sometimes-Avenger is left alone with his thoughts. “I don’t know who these clowns are. But they must be the worst kind of trouble if they can beat ole’ Goldilocks the way they did. I may not be much of a “team” guy, but it’s a cinch that me and Red Wing are way outclassed here. I just hope Steve has more gods for friends or this could get ugly. And not getting a response to my communication doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Let’s hope that Hawkeye is on monitor duty and he just wants to make me sweat a little.”
Suddenly the quiet is broken by two flying figures. “Well holy &$#%, Thulkon. It looks like bird-hunting season just opened early this year!” “For sure, Red Wind. Face it, dude, you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time!” The startled Falcon attempts to flee to a more advantageous position. In the meantime, Thulkon erects a mentallium sphere around Red Wing. “The files say that this bird is dangerous, so it must go down too.”
Falcon hides behind a chimney to make less of a target. When Red Wind comes near, Sam props his arms against the bricks and extends both legs in a flying kick to the villain’s jaw. Red Wind rubs his head for a second and then flies himself away at great speed before doubling back (now glowing with crimson energy) and straight at his foe. The human missile then spears the Falcon in the back and both crash through the brick chimney.
Red Wind rises, Sam Wilson does not. “Got to remind myself not to play around with these super dandies.”
“Good thing we hacked the Avengers’ communication system, and can control what messages do and don’t get through, eh Reddy?,” states Thulkon. “Not that I had any doubt about the boss being successful before, but it’s starting to hit home that I’m going to need a list of what I wanna do when we control this whole planet.”
******
Janet Van Dyne walks over to a desk that sits in her home in Cresskill, New Jersey. Her curiosity is instantly aroused by the unexpected sight of a small box with a bow that has been left sitting there. She reads the attached card out loud, “Please accept this token of my appreciation, Love Hank.”
“Geez Hank, your card writing skills are a little dry.” Jan opens the box to find a bracelet of remarkable indigo-colored gems strung together on a loop of white gold. “But your gift-giving skills more than make up for it!” She eagerly clasps the band around her wrist and continues to admire it. “I’ve never seen stones like these before … they’re beautiful! I’ve a feeling I’m gonna be in a very thankful mood when Hank gets here tonight.”
Her concentration is broken up when Othello mysteriously appears in the room behind her. “Good evening, Ms. Van Dyne. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time now.”
A startled Jan whirls around and shoots a bio-blast at her unexpected visitor. “Sorry creepy guy, but you have to see my secretary to get an appointment with me. No Exceptions!” The blast passes harmlessly through Othello’s form and damages the wall instead.
“H-how did you do that? And how did you get in here? I want answers, mister!” Jan shrinks herself to insect size to prepare for combat. Her clothes fall to the ground in a heap. But a slight leotard of unstable molecules, underneath, covers her.
“My projected form is just one of my talents. Another is building the two tiny stun-drones that are following you right now.” Instantly twin flying spheres (roughly the size of tennis balls) enter the room and speed at the diminutive Avenger, firing small energy blasts. The Wasp finds herself unable to shake the constructs off her trail no matter how hard she tries. She also discovers, to her horror, that her bio-stings have absolutely no effects on the drones.
“I’ve learned that you’ve been more formidable on this world than you were on mine. You became a distinguished leader of the Avengers...”
“My commiunicard isn’t working. Who is this guy?” Her desperate gamble to summon help a failure, the inevitable finally happens, and the Wasp is downed by a stun blast.
“…But you still have the same weakness. Your affection for the insipid Dr. Pym. It is always your weak point. Once you placed my ‘clingstones’ on your wrist, they would not come off and my drones could track you no matter how small you became or where you went. I bet you never even questioned that they could shrink with you, did you?”
The real form of Othello then enters the room (accompanied by Dr. Bruttus) and picks up the fallen Wasp with his hand. “No matter how miniscule, no Avenger can be left to assemble if we are to win.”
Othello turns to give orders to his subordinate. “I’ll take my leave now. You wait here for the good doctor to arrive. After you’ve flooded this place with the gas in the canisters I’ve provided, he shouldn’t give you any trouble at all once he sets foot inside.”
“Yes, sir. Consider the insect man as good as bagged!”
NEXT: Sitting Ducks!!
By C.M. King
A squeaking noise down the hall forces Hawkeye to have to quickly hide his detached arrowhead in his mouth so as not to be discovered. But the sight he beholds stings him even more than the arrow’s point against his cheek. Dr. Bruttus comes into the room pushing a bound and unconscious Thor on a large cart past the captive bowman. His hammer is nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t be so lonely kid; soon all your friends are gonna be here too. Hah!” The henchman continues on through another door to place the Thunder God in his strict confinement. Left alone again, Hawkeye moves the arrowhead to his tunic for safer keeping.
“Mrs. Barton’s boy Clint better make like Houdini and soon before there is no team left to be saved. I just can’t believe things can be as bad as they look,” thinks the sullen archer to himself.
Just then Dymium pokes her head into the room. “How’s my favorite wall decoration doing? Poor thing …you look like you need some perking up. Want a soda? I can feed it to you … if you promise to be nice.” However, the villainess’ cattiness is cut short by Red Wind’s voice.
“Dymium, get over here quick! Othello says something important is up.”
The woman exits the room (giving a playful wave) leaving the Avenger alone once more to his urgent scheming.
******
Outside the Union’s hideout, hovering against the blackness of the night, the Falcon radios an urgent warning into his communicard. “I repeat, I’ve tracked some mysterious ‘big bads’ to a building downtown. A downed Thor was taken inside. Repeat: Thor was taken down! Bring everyone you got to the address given, or follow my card’s signal. I’ll keep surveillance until you arrive.”
After finding a good hidden vantage point, the sometimes-Avenger is left alone with his thoughts. “I don’t know who these clowns are. But they must be the worst kind of trouble if they can beat ole’ Goldilocks the way they did. I may not be much of a “team” guy, but it’s a cinch that me and Red Wing are way outclassed here. I just hope Steve has more gods for friends or this could get ugly. And not getting a response to my communication doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Let’s hope that Hawkeye is on monitor duty and he just wants to make me sweat a little.”
Suddenly the quiet is broken by two flying figures. “Well holy &$#%, Thulkon. It looks like bird-hunting season just opened early this year!” “For sure, Red Wind. Face it, dude, you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time!” The startled Falcon attempts to flee to a more advantageous position. In the meantime, Thulkon erects a mentallium sphere around Red Wing. “The files say that this bird is dangerous, so it must go down too.”
Falcon hides behind a chimney to make less of a target. When Red Wind comes near, Sam props his arms against the bricks and extends both legs in a flying kick to the villain’s jaw. Red Wind rubs his head for a second and then flies himself away at great speed before doubling back (now glowing with crimson energy) and straight at his foe. The human missile then spears the Falcon in the back and both crash through the brick chimney.
Red Wind rises, Sam Wilson does not. “Got to remind myself not to play around with these super dandies.”
“Good thing we hacked the Avengers’ communication system, and can control what messages do and don’t get through, eh Reddy?,” states Thulkon. “Not that I had any doubt about the boss being successful before, but it’s starting to hit home that I’m going to need a list of what I wanna do when we control this whole planet.”
******
Janet Van Dyne walks over to a desk that sits in her home in Cresskill, New Jersey. Her curiosity is instantly aroused by the unexpected sight of a small box with a bow that has been left sitting there. She reads the attached card out loud, “Please accept this token of my appreciation, Love Hank.”
“Geez Hank, your card writing skills are a little dry.” Jan opens the box to find a bracelet of remarkable indigo-colored gems strung together on a loop of white gold. “But your gift-giving skills more than make up for it!” She eagerly clasps the band around her wrist and continues to admire it. “I’ve never seen stones like these before … they’re beautiful! I’ve a feeling I’m gonna be in a very thankful mood when Hank gets here tonight.”
Her concentration is broken up when Othello mysteriously appears in the room behind her. “Good evening, Ms. Van Dyne. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time now.”
A startled Jan whirls around and shoots a bio-blast at her unexpected visitor. “Sorry creepy guy, but you have to see my secretary to get an appointment with me. No Exceptions!” The blast passes harmlessly through Othello’s form and damages the wall instead.
“H-how did you do that? And how did you get in here? I want answers, mister!” Jan shrinks herself to insect size to prepare for combat. Her clothes fall to the ground in a heap. But a slight leotard of unstable molecules, underneath, covers her.
“My projected form is just one of my talents. Another is building the two tiny stun-drones that are following you right now.” Instantly twin flying spheres (roughly the size of tennis balls) enter the room and speed at the diminutive Avenger, firing small energy blasts. The Wasp finds herself unable to shake the constructs off her trail no matter how hard she tries. She also discovers, to her horror, that her bio-stings have absolutely no effects on the drones.
“I’ve learned that you’ve been more formidable on this world than you were on mine. You became a distinguished leader of the Avengers...”
“My commiunicard isn’t working. Who is this guy?” Her desperate gamble to summon help a failure, the inevitable finally happens, and the Wasp is downed by a stun blast.
“…But you still have the same weakness. Your affection for the insipid Dr. Pym. It is always your weak point. Once you placed my ‘clingstones’ on your wrist, they would not come off and my drones could track you no matter how small you became or where you went. I bet you never even questioned that they could shrink with you, did you?”
The real form of Othello then enters the room (accompanied by Dr. Bruttus) and picks up the fallen Wasp with his hand. “No matter how miniscule, no Avenger can be left to assemble if we are to win.”
Othello turns to give orders to his subordinate. “I’ll take my leave now. You wait here for the good doctor to arrive. After you’ve flooded this place with the gas in the canisters I’ve provided, he shouldn’t give you any trouble at all once he sets foot inside.”
“Yes, sir. Consider the insect man as good as bagged!”
NEXT: Sitting Ducks!!
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