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| Issue #1 July 2009 |
"Wetworks" Written By Tony Thornley |
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Nicholas Fury sat still in the single chair set out for him. He rested his elbows lightly on the arm rests and watched the body sitting directly in front of him as each member of the group filed into the room. He had made a point to be early for this hearing. After all, the better impression he gave, the more convincing he’d be. He counted heads after a few minutes. Fourteen sat assembled, leaving one member of the council missing, the chairman.
Finally, the Ugandan delegate entered the room, and walked quietly to the center chair. The regal dark-skinned man sat, and then turned to each side, giving his fellow delegates a nod. Finally, he turned to Fury and his eyes narrowed. Nick had been bold enough to wear his SHIELD uniform, rather than the standard suit and tie most wore as a sign of respect.
“I’d like to welcome everyone to this special meeting of the United Nations Security Council,” he said, his rich voice filling the room thanks to the microphone sitting directly in front of him. “Most of you are aware of the purpose for this meeting, as well as the subject sitting before us.” There was a short round of murmured affirmatives.
“Well then, we’ll get right down to business,” he said. “Commander Nich-“
“Excuse me, Mister Chairman,” Nick interrupted and leaned towards his own microphone. “But my rank is Colonel.” The chairman’s eyes narrowed further and Nick leaned back.
“COLONEL Nicholas Fury,” he said. “We’ve asked you here today in reference to a clandestine wetworks unit that had recently caught our attention. Colonel, what do you know about the unit codenamed Force Works?” Fury leaned forward again, looking at each delegate with his good eye.
“Mister Chairman,” he said. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
=FW=
Buenos Aries, Argentina
Jack Munroe lined up his shot carefully. The opportunity he had was fleeting at best, and he had to make every moment count. According to the mission clock, he had less than thirty seconds left before he had to be in perfect position; if he wasn’t the mission, and all of the prep that went with it, was completely blown. Finally, he had the rifle lined up perfectly, with about thirteen seconds to spare. He tapped his left ear with his left hand.
“Nomad to FW,” he said after his earpiece beeped. “I am in position and ready to engage. Radio silence until my mark. Single click to acknowledge.” Seven radio clicks followed his transmission.
The door to the hotel swung open, three seconds early. He nearly cursed, but quickly gained his target. The target walked onto the sidewalk, slightly ahead of his entourage. Nomad smiled. Perfect. He waited a beat, lining up the scope’s crosshairs with the target’s temple, and fired. His aim was perfect, and the target’s head snapped to the side. Nomad didn’t move though, as the target remained standing. He righted his head, shook it and looked directly at Jack. His eyes began to glow, and waves of heat started to pour off his body before he burst into flames.
“Nomad to Force Works!” he called, jumping to his feet. “Intel is good, prepare to engage target!”
“Spitfire en route!” Munroe grinned. When Falsworth said en route, she meant it. He pressed a button on the side of his rifle, and it began to shrink. He dropped it into the small pouch at his side and drew the pair of sleek handguns from the holsters on his thighs. The trio of bodyguards around the firey man began to shift form, their suits replaced by yellow and purple armor, and all four rocketed into the air and towards him. The fire-man reached him first.
“Taking that shot will be your last mistake,” he said through his thick Eastern European accent. “I hope you know who I am.”
“Hans Fricker, leads AIM scientist in genetics, codename Firebrand,” he said. “I know who you are. Not impressed.” With that, Nomad opened fire.
=FW=
The chairman raised an eyebrow at Fury’s statement and leaned forward. “Mister Fury, I’d like to repeat my question. This time, I want your complete honesty. What do you know about the unit codename Force Works?”
“Again, Mister Chairman,” he said. “I have no direct knowledge of a unit called Force Works.” Fury sighed. “However… After the Red Skull’s power play approximately a year ago, rumors of a freelance black ops unit surfaced in the intelligence community. Their source of funding and handlers are completely unknown. ”
“Completely unknown Colonel Fury?” the Russian delegate growled. “The members of this unit are each well known within diplomatic and intelligence circles.” The Russian waved to a pile of dossiers on the table in front of Fury.
“Colonel, will you please read the names in each of those folders?” Fury nodded and gathered the folders.
“Jack Munroe, codename Nomad.”
“An American agent with training near the equivalent of Steven Rogers,” the French delegate stated.
“And former SHIELD,” the American added.
Fury nodded and continued. “Jaqueline Falsworth, codename Spitfire,” he said.
“MI-5 and former Invader,” the British delegate declared.
=FW=
Spitfire dashed across the rooftops of Buenos Aires, closing the three kilometer gap between herself and Nomad quickly. She was an old woman, but she was also one of the many former Invaders blessed with near eternal youth, each for different reasons. Jaqs had actually aged normally until a blood transfusion from her lost love, Jim Hammond, had restored her youth, and her speed.
She hadn’t taken her second chance for granted once.
She reached the edge of a rooftop and leaped, crossing the gap easily. She could see Nomad and Firebrand now. She also saw the armored AIM agents circling behind him. She reached the edge of the roof and jumped again. She took two more steps before jumping straight up in the air, slamming into the first AIM agent’s back. They flew through the air several yards and slammed into the ground, where Jaqs punched him repeatedly in super-speed. She stood, narrowly avoiding an energy blast. The second agent slammed into the rooftop before she turned.
Natasha Romanov stood over the second agent. Nomad and Firebrand had moved away from them. Munroe was outclassed. He needed their help.
“It’s okay Spitfire!” the Black Widow called. “Ares is already backing him up! We need to find the third AIM flunkie!” Jaqs grinned. The word flunkie with Tash’s Russian accent was quite funny to her.
“On it!”
“No need,” an arrogant female voice said. Karla Sofen, Moonstone, appeared over the edge of the building and tossed the third lifeless agent onto the gravel covering the rooftop. “If there anything else you would need me for?”
=FW=
“Excuse me,” Fury growled, “but am I going to get commentary on each of these individuals? Any connection to the superhuman community or intelligence community in the past ten years would give you at least some passing familiarity with each of them.” He spread the folders across the table and tapped each one with his finger. “Karla Sofen, Moonstone, convicted criminal and former Thunderbolt. Danielle Moonstar, former X-Man, SHIELD, and who knows what else. Georges Batroc, Batroc the Leaper, world-class mercenary and one of the world’s most wanted. Natasha Romanov, Black Widow, Avenger and Russian expat, and this one…” He picked up the last file and held it up for all to see. “This one’s my favorite. Ares, the supposed Greek god of War. Thor and Wolverine rolled into one.”
“Your sarcasm is not appreciated Colonel,” said the Croatian delegate.
“Neither are your accusations,” Fury growled. “A team this big, and as organized as rumors state, would require an expense account larger than most of your national budgets.” He stood and pounded his fist into the table. “I’ve been over every SHIELD budget report in the last year, and I can assure you that there is no black hole, sucking funds out of my organization and into this mythical wetworks unit. Give me some damned hard evidence of any connection to SHIELD, and I assure you I will serve you the heads of any individual within my organization on a silver platter. Otherwise, I have a world to protect.” He paused, glaring at each of the fifteen delegates. None said a word, and only the Wakandan delegate met his gaze.
“Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” Fury finally said after nearly a minute of silence. “You know where to reach me if you ever produce that evidence out of your collective asses.”
=FW=
“This is Batroc,” the Frenchman said over his radio. “Zee three with Firebrand were not zee only three.” Batroc tackled one of the AIM stormtroopers, then twisted, kicking another in the gut.
“What Frenchie is trying to say,” Moonstar grunted, “is that we have six AIM headed for your position.” She smacked one of the armored troopers in the back of the head with her bow, sending him stumbling, then fired one of her psi arrows into the back of his head point blank. “We have engaged an additional six.”
“Be careful,” the Widow replied. “We will have the others well in hand.”
“I’m sure,” Dani muttered, slamming her elbow into the gut of one of the troopers. Batroc vaulted over them, grabbed the trooper by the shoulders, and used his momentum to flip him through the air.
“That all?” she asked.
“Zat’s all,” he said with a nod.
“Great,” she replied. “We need to provide some tactical support for Tash and Jaqs. Move it!” The two broke into a sprint, running for the half-dozen troopers currently moving to intercept the rest of the Force Works team, vaulting between buildings in the same way Spitfire had minutes before. Those six had already reached the three women waiting for them.
Black Widow somersaulted across the rooftop, gained her footing and fired one of her widow’s bites at the trooper firing on her. A blast from his weapon grazed her bicep, but she held steady and fired again. Both of the miniature taser darts struck their target, sending a massive jolt of electricity through his body. Tash spun and kicked a second trooper across the face, shattering his visor.
Spitfire ran in a simple figure eight, fast enough that the pair of AIM troopers she circled couldn’t tell her from her afterimage. Every few seconds she lashed out with her foot or fist, breaking off chunks of the armor. She suddenly stopped between them both. Both raised their weapons and fired, but Spitfire was already gone. Their blasts struck each other square in the chest, knocking them both to the ground.
“Nice shot,” she cracked with a grin.
Moonstone strode towards the last of the AIM troopers, their energy blasts passing harmlessly through her phased form. She back-handed one of the men, then grabbed the other by the neck.
“That will be your last mistake,” she growled. She began to squeeze, but an energy bolt struck the trooper in the back. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went completely limp. Sofen dropped the man and turned to glare at the source of the shot. Moonstar met the glare and gave Moonstone one of her own.
“Mission objectives stated as little bloodshed as possible,” Dani growled. “Follow orders Sofen.”
“I wasn’t shedding blood, mutant,” she said.
“Stop the pissing contest,” Widow replied. “Where’s Nomad?”
Several rooftops away, Nomad rolled across the gravel, then caught his footing and continued to run. Their intel had informed them that Firebrand was strong and durable, and they’d brought heavy-duty firepower to compensate. Unfortunately, his pair of plasma pistols was far from adequate for the job. He dodged a blast of flame and jumped to a fire escape on the building across from him. He pulled himself up the ladder and turned to face Firebrand and grinned as he saw the figure behind the large air conditioner on the roof behind him.
As Firebrand reached the A/C, a massive staff appeared in front of him, and clotheslined him. Ares drew himself up and shifted the staff to display the battle axe at the end of it. He smiled and slammed Firebrand in the face with the axe’s blunt end, knocking him to the ground.
“Stay down,” he commanded, stepping on his chest. The rest of the team began to gather around them. Firebrand looked at them and began to laugh.
“Well played,” he said. “But you made a major mistake. I never forget a face.” Nomad’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that matter?” he said. “You’ll be rotting in prison for the rest of your life.”
“Not so,” Fricker replied. “I am not AIM’s only superhuman operative on scene.”
“What th-“ Nomad suddenly felt a hand grip his left arm tightly. He turned to see Moonstone glaring at him.
“Sorry Jack.” She pulled violently, tearing Nomad’s arm completely off. She cast him aside and stretched her hands out, blasting Ares into the rest of the group, then scooped up Firebrand and phased through the building. The team sprung into action quickly, gathering around Jack.
“Dani, call Charlie, get us med support, NOW!”
=FW=
Fury strode out of the UN building and into the streets of New York. He chewed his top lip for several seconds, balling his fists and releasing them over and over. He needed to shoot something. Was there enough room in the budget to completely trash several life-model decoys? Suddenly, his phone began to ring, using a tone reserved for one particular line. He removed it from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.
“Charlie,” he said.
“Angels,” came the reply. “Code red, immediate need.”
“Dammit,” he grumbled and broke into a run. The shooting range would have to wait.
From an office several stories above the street, the Chinese delegate to the Security Council watched Fury dash away. He flipped open his phone and pressed a single button, then raised it to his ear. After several seconds, the line went live.
“Yes?”
“It is Fury, Herr Skull.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Your wife and daughter will be returned to your apartment in two hours.”
=FW=
In Force Works #2: When multiple foreign dignitaries are taken hostage in the Gulf of Mexico, Force Works must answer the call!
