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Saving the Future – Part 14: Real Heroes |
Saving the Future – Part 14: Real Heroes
Previously: Two weeks ago the Lair Legion, their Mansion, the island it stood upon, and the SPUD helicarrier all vanished. Nobody knows where Earth’s greatest defenders have gone, or if they will ever return.
Others have come forward to fill the power vacuum caused by the Legion’s loss. Baroness Elizabeth von Zemo assembled a New Lair Legion to battle the threat of the Purveyors of Peril – a Legion whose powers and personnel strangely match with those of the elite supervillains. The U.S. Government sponsored an “official” New Lair Legion under their control and sent it in to bring down the Purveyors. This group, formerly the A-Team of the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre, fell into the Purveyors trap. The three wounded survivors became lost in the underground complex supposed to be the Purveyors’ headquarters.
Just as they were about to die they were joined and saved by Citizen Z – except that Citizen Z was previously a false identity of Baroness von Zemo herself!
Previous Chapters
The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom
Who's Who in the Parodyverse
Where's Where in the Parodyverse
***
“You never ever give up,” Baxter Thompson always remembered his mama saying. “It don’t matter how hard the fight is, how impossible it is, you just don’t stop.”
Thompson remembered those words the day he signed up for the U.S. Marine Corps. They kept him alive.
“Your grandmamma, she knew that,” Mama Thompson told him. “One day back in ’55, she was riding the bus, just sitting there minding her own business. Now the bus, it started to fill up, and all the seats at the front for the white folks was full. So the driver, he moves the whites-only sign back down the bus and tells the black folks sitting there that they got to move so’s the white men who are standing can get a chair. And your mama, she said no. She didn’t give up.”
Thompson remembered those words when his sergeant was trying to bust his balls, to make him wash out.
“Now that bus driver, he told her that if’n she wouldn’t move then he’d be calling the police. But she didn’t give up, and he called the cops, and your grandmamma she was arrested, right there in front of everyone. And they took her off and they locked her in jail till folks came and paid her bail.”
Thompson remembered those words the day he was parachuted into Honduras to take down the chain of drug smugglers bringing heroin into Miami.
“But your grandmamma, because she wouldn’t give up, folks rallied round. There was a meeting and there was a boycott of the bus company from the day of her trial, and then there was a committee to see the end to all those unfair laws. The minister of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, he became president of it, that Montgomery Improvement Association, and his name was Doctor Martin Luther King. They bombed his house one time and he wouldn’t give up neither.”
Thompson remembered that when he was with the first unit behind enemy lines in Operation: Desert Storm.
“For three hundred and eighty-one days black people wouldn’t use the buses in Montgomery, and the company was losin’ money hand over fist, and the Klan was getting nastier and nastier, and Doctor King was put in jail for ‘hindering a bus’, and all the papers cross the country were talking about it. Your grandmamma, she lost her job over it, and your grandpappy quit his when his boss forbad him from talkin’ about it at his work. But did they give up? No sir, they did not.”
Thompson remembered when the was with the spearhead into Kabul after 9/11. He remembered when he unit entered Baghdad under fire.
“And in the end? In the end, Baxter, the world changed. Those Jim Crow laws, they got thrown away, and after that there is no place that a black person or any person cannot be and nothing they are not allowed to achieve. So you remember that, boy. You never give up and you never let them stop you. And you make your mama and your grandmamma proud.”
Thompson remembered when he volunteered for the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre’s Physical Enhancement Program, and toughed it through the traumatic DNA treatments that turned him into USAction, strongest and hardest of the A-Class that his nation designated the New Lair Legion.
Never give up.
***
Baxter Thompson jerked to painful consciousness lying on a concrete floor in the underground bunker where the supervillain organisation called the Purveyors of Peril had their base. The mission had gone wrong. It had been a trap.
The pain in Baxter’s side warned him that he was badly hurt. He couldn’t feel his arm. When he turned his head to check his injuries he found his right arm just wasn’t there any more. Only the enhancements he’d received to grant him his powers were keeping him alive right now.
There was a movement behind him. He forced himself to scrabble round to face whatever was coming, but relaxed a fraction when he recognised friendlies. Komodo and Ultimette were part of his unit.
They’d seen better days too. The Air Force wingwiper turned humanoid dragon was gashed and bleeding, half the fins along his back and tail torn away, a livid scar barely missing one eye. The woman from the Ranger Corps was limping and her face had that shocky stillness that came from combat trauma. They needed him.
There was a third figure with them, a trim athletic woman in an all-over black and purple bodysuit. She had a pouched belt at her hips and she carried an officer’s sword and some kind of advanced firearm. Baxter racked his mind for the briefings that would supply her name.
“Citizen Z?” he questioned. That identity had been a ruse, a cover for the scheming Baroness von Zemo to infiltrate the original Lair Legion as part of a plot to dominate the world.
“But not the one you’re thinking of,” CZ told him. “The real one.”
“She’s here to help,” Ultimette told USAction. “She saved us. Everyone else is dead.”
Komodo hoisted Baxter to his feet. “Glad to see you’re still with us, Sarge,” the dragonoid told him. “We were getting worried you were going to snooze through the whole thing.”
“Yeah,” snorted USAction, “you’re really bad at that whole team banter thing, Captain Wang. Leave the funny stuff for guys who’ve had the training course.” He turned to Ultimette. “Sit rep?”
“When we passed through the entrance door we were somehow teleported, scattered across the underground complex. The Purveyors knew we were coming. It was a slaughter.”
“It was a big set up from the start,” Citizen Z admitted. “There’s very few metahuman forces left active on the Earth right now, and yours was probably the most powerful left to oppose the Purveyors of Peril.”
“What about those other guys calling themselves the Lair Legion?” suggested Komodo.
“The ones with the powers so very like the Purveyors?” scorned CZ. “What about them?”
“No time for debate club now, ladies,” USAction told them. “Right now we need to fall back and regroup. It’s not the first time I’ve been dropped in the kack by bad intel and I’d like for it not to be the last.”
“Good man,” said Citizen Z. “Okay then, here’s the plan. We take random directions through this maze, relying on Ultimette to skew the chances that we’re picking the right ones to avoid the enemy. Komodo scouts in his smallest lizard form. We don’t engage the bad guys unless we have to. Even though we’ve taken a few of them down for now I don’t think any are out for good, and the Purveyors are too dangerous to fight without having some kind of edge. If we do get cornered, you guys make a run for it while I hold the villains off.”
“That would be suicide!” objected Ultimette.
“I’ve done suicide before,” CZ shrugged. “After a while you get the taste for it.”
“Right ladies,” Baxter growled as Komodo heaved him from the ground and passed him to Ultimette to steady him. “Let’s move it!”
***
“Killeth,” mumbled Clonar, the ill-brewed attempt to create a biological replica of the hemigod of thunder. He shambled down one of the endless corridors of the underground complex beneath the former Interdimensional Transportation Corporation’s shattered skyscraper, trailing his fingernails along the walls, scraping sparks. Occasionally he drooled on the floor.
There was no way past him.
“Sorry,” said Ultimette. “I tried.”
“Try some more,” Citizen Z told the woman with the composite powers of Dancer, Sorceress, Ziles, Lisa, and Troia. “Find a way to block any comm-signal on him, so the others won’t know he needs back-up.”
“Does he need back-up?” asked Komodo. The shape-shifter was almost tapped out, his fire-breath barely more than a flicker.
“Let’s find out,” said CZ, looking across at USAction.
“Yeah,” agreed Baxter. “Never give up.” He shrugged himself away from Ultimette, staggered for a moment while he got his balance, they strode round the corner to face Clonar. “Hey, sissy-boy,” he called. “Get a haircut.”
“Killeth!” screamed the Ausgardian-clone, racing forward wielding a vibratium warhammer.
USAction ducked under the first blow. The hammer struck the wall, splintering massive chunks of it. Lightning discharged along the corridor, shorting the lights, plunging the battle into darkness.
USAction had enhanced senses and he already had a feel for where the enemy was. He slammed a left into Clonar’s gut. It wasn’t as good a punch as he’d hoped. His missing arm affected his balance; and he was bleeding again.
Clonar’s wild swinging connected with Baxter’s head. Even a glancing blow almost put USAction out for the count. He felt his nose break again.
He caught the Purveyor in the darkness and swung him round into the wall. He could sense Citizen Z shepherding Ultimette and Komodo past him in the darkness. He just had to keep this killer occupied long enough for his comrades to get clear.
Clonar’s fist shattered two of Baxter’s ribs. It hurt worse than the missing arm. He fought back, boxing the clone on its ear, knocking him backwards.
Lightning lanced from Clonar’s fingertips, searing into USAction before grounding in the cables of the walls. Baxter was on fire.
He didn’t give up.
Clonar closed for the kill. “Killeth,” the monster said.
“Catchy dialogue,” Citizen Z mocked. Suddenly she was between the pseudo-hemigod and the wounded USAction. “I prefer ‘remote neural jammers activate’.”
The LEDs in half a dozen shiny discs she’d attached to Clonar’s head began to pulse. Clonar staggered spastically.
“I didn’t attempt to stop any higher brain functions,” CZ said. “What would be the point? I just interrupted the bits that control his reflexes, balance, and muscular commands.”
“We finish him now?” asked Baxter, reaching for his Bowie knife.
“I doubt we could,” Citizen Z admitted. “And we need to go now. HAGGIE and some of the other Purveyors will be able to track the technology I just used. Let’s be somewhere else.”
USAction could hardly breathe. Walking was harder still. Citizen Z supported him and they staggered away down the corridor to join the others.
The Purveyors arrived to support Clonar in under a minute. Then the remote motion sensors that Citizen Z had left along the corridor detonated the shaped charges she’d laid.
***
“They’re doing better than I thought,” VelcroVixen admitted. “Half the Purveyors are out for the moment and three of the FMRC people are still active. They’re near the exit. I’ll send in everybody we’ve got.”
“No need,” Baroness von Zemo assured her. “I’ll destroy them myself.”
“Yourself?” VV frowned. “You don’t have any super-powers.”
Beth von Zemo smirked. “And yet.”
***
Ultimette supercooled the vault hatch that blocked the exit and Komodo shattered it. The survivors of the FMRC A-Team staggered out onto the derelict plot where the ITC building had been devastated in the Parody War.
“Oh bravo!” applauded Elizabeth von Zemo. “Very well done indeed!”
USAction turned to face the latest threat. Ultimette and Komodo flanked him.
Von Zemo put her hands up. “I’m a civilian,” she told them. “I just wanted to reassure you that the Lair Legion are on their way to help you.”
“We are the Lair Legion, lady,” Komodo hissed.
Beth raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Really? The three of you?”
“We paid for the title,” Ultimette told her. “In blood.”
“Well, I suppose the Legion always were big losers,” the Baroness conceded. “But aren’t you actually the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre’s A-Team?”
“We were,” admitted Komodo. “So?”
“Jordan Wang, Ginny Taylor, and Baxter Thompson,” von Zemo identified. “It was all in that stirring patriotic press release. Brave volunteers to test the USA’s bold metagene enhancement technology. But I do have one question.”
“Get out of our way, woman,” USAction warned the Baroness. “We got places to be.”
“My question is this. There were two FMRC A-Teams before you, with the same powers you have. Why did they have the same civilian names as well?”
Ultimette looked up sharply. “What? They couldn’t have!”
“Oh, they did,” the Baroness assured her. “Check the files. Ask your boss Holcombe.”
“That makes no sense at all!” objected USAction.
“It does,” Beth reasoned, “if you think things through. For example, if the US really possesses the technology to make superheroes at will why don’t we have an army of them right now? It took billions of dollars and ten years to generate the divine spark that empowered Mr Epitome. But we do know that another technology exists which can create super-powered individuals.”
“What are you getting at?” demanded Komodo.
“You met Clonar, yes? He was an early experiment, and far from a complete success of course. All the power but even less brains than the original. Who’d have thought that possible? But using some confiscated Technopolitan equipment and with a little help from the diabolical Dr Moo your FMRC managed to breed a series of imperfect knock-off clones of various Legionnaires.”
Ultimette shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
“Except the first A-Team did go kind of bad,” Komodo remembered.
“Yes,” agreed the Baroness. “And after that Holcombe had to brew up an entirely different batch. But he reused the civilian identities as a matter of convenience. It saved having to establish a whole new set of cover stories, plant a whole new range of fictional backgrounds.”
Baxter had been punched in the chest by a pseudo-hemigod. It hadn’t hurt as much as this.
“You are saying… we are clones,” he understood. “That we are the third generation of a pattern that’s been used before, cooked up in some lab somewhere.”
“Why yes,” said the Baroness. “Didn’t they mention that in your briefings? The files were well hidden, I admit, but not so well that my associates couldn’t find them.”
“We can’t be clones,” objected Ultimette. “I remember my childhood. I remember mother’s bedtime stories!”
“You remember the biography that’s been plugged into your head,” the Baroness told her. “But anything more than six months ago, those experienced were scripted for you by some people in an FMRC thinktank. I wonder how much fun they had making up your first kiss, your first sexual experience? I bet they had a wonderful time.”
“Everything we remember…” said Baxter Thompson slowly, “is a lie?”
“I’m sure somebody was a war hero,” Beth told him. “Somebody who really did the things you remember doing. Somebody who deserves the respect and the honour.”
“This can’t be true,” denied Komodo. “She’s messing with our heads!”
“I’m not the one who did that,” snorted the Baroness. “Talk to Rupert Holcombe and his clever lab boys. And while you’re at it, ask them how good they’ve refined their processes these days. Ask them what the life expectancy of their clones is now. Ask them why they were brewing the next generation already, looking just like you people, due to be hatched out in about, oh, three months time.”
“Three months?” blanched Ultimette.
USAction caught another barb. “What do you mean, ‘were brewing’?”
The Baroness sighed. “While you people were dying downstairs it seems as though somebody from the Purveyors managed to teleport into the FMRC labs. The ex-vitro clones were all slaughtered, the equipment for making them ruined. Tragic losses. Whatever will happen when your own artificial bodies begin to break down and senesce, leading to slow and painful loss of brain function, higher intellect, and then death?”
USAction had been carrying on despite his devastating wounds. Never give up, his mother had taught him.
Except he had no mother. The events she’d described had happened, but he’d been grafted on, the cruellest lie of all.
Baxter Thompson dropped to the ground and cried, for the first time in his life.
“Well, I’d better be going,” the Baroness told them. “I can see you heroes have a lot to think about.” She’d destroyed the New Lair Legion after all. “Have a nice day.”
She turned but found a rapier point poised before her throat. “Hello, Beth,” said Citizen Z.
***
“I want to know what the hell is going on!” thundered Reuben Holcombe, Head of the Federal Metahuman Recourse Centre. “Where are the team? And what the hell happened to the Portland facility?”
“We’re still gathering that data, sir,” Bolvis Tumwater told his superior. “It looks like the cloning facility was somehow breeched. From what we’ve been able to salvage from the lab video monitors a bunch of villains just walked through the door into our most secure area. They killed everybody and wrecked everything. The next generation of bioreplicants and the technology itself are total losses.”
“Where are the current team? Why hasn’t Boseman reported back?”
“Sir, the comms went down when the A-Team entered the Purveyors compound, even the lifesign monitors. We’ve not had any contact since.”
“Get hold of the OPS. I want a full tactical squad down there giving our people support.” Holcombe slammed his fist on the desk. “The President’s watching this initiative very closely, dammit! Our whole programme’s in jeopardy if this turns out to be a wash!”
“And some of our personnel might be in mortal danger too, sir,” Tumwater ventured. “It’s not like we can just run off some more now.”
“Get OPS in there. Get me Aaron Soames on the line personally. Get me the army.”
“Sir, the recent troubles have OPS at full stretch. They’ve taken a real hammering. I thought we agreed when we mapped the Purveyors containment scenarios that non-metahuman forces wouldn’t…”
“That’s all we’ve got now!” snapped Holcombe. “The heroes are gone. We have to cope.”
“Not all the heroes, Mister Holcome,” said Jay Boaz, appearing through the doorway into the FMRC director’s private office and doffing his trademark baseball cap. “I’m here.”
“Hatman!” gasped Tumwater. “How?”
“That’s classified, I’m afraid. But I’m back to take charge now.” Doorman smiled at them. “You know you can trust in me.”
***
“Oh gosh,” said Baroness von Zemo, facing Citizen Z, “Am I supposed to faint in psychological shock now?”
“Well, I had a vague hope it might stop your mouth from drivelling self-serving shallow wit for a little while, but I see I’m going to be disappointed,” answered CZ.
“So who’s dressed up in my cast-offs this time? Fashion Accessory? Falconne? The Psychic Samurai? I hope it’s not Silicone Sally, because I’d have to be very brutal if it turned out she’d betrayed me.”
“We’re not here to play Q and A,” Citizen Z told the Baroness. “This is the part where I threaten you and you pretend you’re not bothered by it.”
Beth held out her hands. “Threaten away. I was getting bored with these A-clones anyhow. Or are you another of them? Don’t tell me they tried cooking up a new Cobra.”
“You want to know who I am? I’m your nemesis, Elizabeth. You created Citizen Z as part of your sad little schemes to pretend to be your worst enemy – and now I am. You pretended to be a hero. I’m what you could never be. You thought you could walk away from your crimes laughing and start afresh with new wickedness. Think again.”
“Because an anonymous spandex addict with a sword is in my face?”
“Because no matter how much you scheme, how far you get, at the moment you think you’ve got it all, I’ll be there. I’ll take it all away from you. I’ll drop you so far you’ll beg for death.” Citizen Z moved in close. “No quip?” she asked the Baroness.
“I don’t…” began Beth von Zemo, but just then CZ slammed the hilt of the sword into her face, toppling her to the ground.
“New rules,” Citizen Z told her. “My timetable not yours.”
The Baroness rolled to her feet; but when she looked around Citizen Z had gone.
She flicked open her mobile phone. “HAGGIE, get here. I have a new project.”
***
“It was a lie,” said Baxter Thompson. “Everything they put into us to make us who we are, it was all artificial.” Behind him on the speeding Z-wing Komodo stared blankly into space and Ultimette was weeping.
“No argument there,” CZ admitted. “But just because your memories aren’t real doesn’t make you not real. You think, you feel, you choose. You’re heroes.”
“We’re programmed as heroes,” spat Ultimette. “Flesh puppets.”
“Hey, the things you folks have done these last few days have been real,” Citizen Z told them. “The way you stood by each other under fire today in the most horrible of circumstances, that was real. I know heroes, and I’m telling you that no matter what you started out as, you’re heroes now.”
“I was taught never to give up,” said Baxter, “but the woman who taught me that was just a program.”
“But the things she taught you about were real,” CZ insisted. “So pare back the deceptions. Forget the stuff they jammed into you to make you function as they wanted. Stick to what you believe, what you know to be true. If you don’t know who you are then make yourself who you want to be. It doesn’t matter how you came about, it’s what you become that matters.” She smiled under her mask. “A great man taught me that. I should have paid more attention.”
“We’re dead in three months,” Komodo said.
“Then make it a really good three months,” urged CZ. “It’s more than your team-mates got, so make it count.”
“And… never give up,” Baxter said slowly. “Yeah. I can dig that. Never give up.”
The V-Wing soared away into the skies.
***
Folks may recognise the description of events at Montgomery, Alabama from the history of civil liberties. At 6pm on Thursday 1st December 1955, black woman Rosa Parks was travelling on the No. 2857 bus to Cleveland Avenue when she was told to vacate the seat she was in and move to the back to accommodate additional white passengers. In refusing and preferring arrest and punishment she triggered the legal and public opinion battle which is seen as a milestone in ending the Jim Crow segregation laws and bringing about modern equality legislation. Her case first brought Rev Dr Martin Luther King to public attention and paved the way for his later influence on America and the world. Heroes do not require superpowers.
***
Previous Chapters:
#1: “And just when did Danny find time to take over the Parodyverse?” by Dancer
#2: "Sometime you have to turn flammable again!" by Visionary
#3: That’s the Way the Story Goes by the Hooded Hood
#4: See No Evil by the Hooded Hood
#5: Whodunnit by the Hooded Hood, Visionary, Killer Shrike, and Jason
#6: Suspicious Behaviour by the Hooded Hood, Jason, Hatman, and CrazySugarFreakBoy!
#7: Accusation and Denial by the Hooded Hood, JJJ, Jason and L!
#8: The Final Solution by the Hooded Hood and Dancer
#9: The Land That Common Sense Forgot by the Hooded Hood
#9.1: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
#9.2: Chad and Ronnie by L!
#9.3: “In addition to cappuccino and personal hygiene these tribespeople have not yet invented underwear.” by Dancer
#9.4: Lone Lost Boy & Heroines Hanging Together by CrazySugarFreakBoy!
#9.5: From Dross into Gold by Killer Shrike
#9.6: Old Friends and New Allies by Visionary
#9.7: Taking a Swim by L!
#9.8: A Post-Swim Chat by L!
#9.9: Champagne and the Land That Common Sense Forgot by Champagne
#10: The Age of Villains by the Hooded Hood
#10.1: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
#10.2: The Baroness #55 by JJJ
#10.3: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
#10.4: Ewe Gotta Have Hart 1 by Killer Shrike
#10.5: Ewe Gotta Have Hart 2 by Killer Shrike
#11: An Age Undreamed Of by the Hooded Hood
#12: The New Lair Legions (And Other Heroes) by the Hooded Hood
#12.1: I Hate You by Visionary
#12.2: Champagne and the Tower of Laments by Champagne
#12.3: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
#12.4: The Hearing by Visionary
#12.5: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
***
Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2008 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2008 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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Post By
The Hooded Hood says "Come on people, keep up!"
Tue May 27, 2008 at
09:38:48 am EDT
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Posted from United Kingdom
using Microsoft Internet Explorer 6/Windows 2000
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 Hmmm - killer shrike - Tue May 27, 2008 at 04:59:25 pm EDT
Re: Hmmm - HH has tried four times to reply to this message - Wed May 28, 2008 at 10:57:19 am EDT
Re: Hmmm - HH has tried four times to reply to this message - Wed May 28, 2008 at 10:57:19 am EDT
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