Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (54 page)

Cast of Characters

Villains from Australia

Killswitch – the world’s foremost assassin, skilled in all weapons and forms of martial combat.

Boomhammer – possesses the ability to expel energy from his fists. Still says “Boomchakalaka” when he punches someone in the face.

Malleus – has the ability to manipulate metals of all kinds. Swaths himself in a full-body sheating of polished titanium.

Spectra – can displace multiple images of herself by spreading her innate mass to create semi-tanget dopplegangers. After three or four, her original form disappears.

Dreadmaster – Class –E ability to inspire dread. Dead at Utopia.

Lady Vexille – Alive since the days of Gilgamesh, this undead creature can appear as she wishes, and roams the world, searching for her next soul to feed on.

Horus – In a major lawsuit with several other bird-headed heroes who have claims to the same name.

Major Aussie – The pride of Australia. Now retired.

White Staff – Wife to Modi and mother of his son, Muldo. Wielder of the White Staff of Ra. Deceased in Australia.

Modi – Son of Thor, sent to Midgard to learn how to battle. Now a resident of Nifleheim, owned by Hela.

Slicer – streetfighter known through out the underworld as the deadliest man with a blade. Deceased in Australia.

Scout, Trooper & Heavy – a trio commando team with each member wearing successively heavier mechanized armor, with differing roles in the team. Deceased in Australia.

Dreadlord – A walking bag of bones, ambulated by the darkest forces known to man.

Charisma – a pixie emissary from the Fairy Realm, she’s lost her way and now spends her days tormenting humans. Deceased in Australia.

Gris-Gris – winner of the voodoo wars, he can claim to be the world’s final say on all matters concerning the religion. He is the equivalent of the Pope. Deceased in Australia.

Slipshod – exudes a negative polarity salve across his skin that makes him almost impossible to hold on to.

Sky Angel – winged and angelic, her appearance and name is a lie, Sky Angel is a monstrous creature, vampyric and addicted to human blood.

Senka – tough and muscular, she has Class-A strength, with Class-E toughness. That sad combination leads to her getting into a lot of trouble, having three long stints at Utopia. Deceased in Australia.

Bioshock – Half man, half plant, with the ability to manipulate bio-electric energy. Deceased in Australia.

Jingoku – Kabuki demon from the depths of Yomi. Deceased in Australia.

Fenris – he is the alpha wolf for all wolves throughout the world, and the stuff of legends. Ridden by a silent boy, who becomes food himself once he grows too big. Deceased in Australia.

Athene – daughter of Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom and courage, and a mortal man. Sent from Mount Olympus on a mission of good, she falls to Dr. Zundergrub’s mind powers. Deceased in Australia.

Rikishi - Hero in Japan, mind-controlled for the events of Australia. His power comes from the ability to turn into the physical personification of “Yamato-damashii” (the spirit of Japan), a massive anime-style mecha. Deceased in Australia but according to legend, his spirit will rise again and find a young Japanese boy or girl as a host.

Nevski – This big and powerful Ukranian is the hero of his native country, beloved by everyone from the Caucuses to the steps of Eastern Europe. Deceased in Australia.

Powerstaff – Paul Aufiero, parking garage attendant, and huge NY Giants fan comes upon the legendary Powerstaff and is given incredible Class-A powers of matter manipulation and toughness. Unfortunately, he used those powers for small-time robberies and eventually became a villain. Deceased in Australia. The Powerstaff was flung into the Pacific Ocean.

Odyssey – a huge mechanized robot, controlled by three pilots, who are rich Japanese industrialists moonlighting as heroes. Mr. Haha 2000 took control of the mecha and delivered it to Dr. Retcon, with the helpless pilots trapped inside. The pilots eventually died of starvation and dehydration. Device taken apart by Blackjack after the fight at Australia for parts.

Big City Wreckers

Demolition – The leader of the band, this big, leather-bound, long-haired metal band lover, injected himself and his Big City Wreckers with Serum-X, transforming them into a villainous metal bad from Hell. Deceased in Australia.

Machinegun Guy – drummer of the band, he can fire focused beams of raw rock energy from his drumsticks, creating seismic waves that can level a small town. Deceased in Australia.

iLiCkDaCliT – former guitarist of Big City Wreckers when they were a rock band, he now uses music as a weapon, with the ability to manipulate the very sound waves generated by his Ibanez JS series guitar with a self-attached amplifier. Deceased in Australia.

Peavy – former bassist of the band, he is a quiet menace, sitting in the back and using his thumping powers to manage and control a battlefield, while his more precocious band-mates bring the pain. Deceased in Australia.

Superdynamic’s Battle

Moe – Brooklyn street-thug who’s life was changed after a chance meeting in jail with Apostle (who was there to talk to soon to be paroled young black kids). Moe wasn’t just changed by the experience, his genetic makeup was modified and now he has Class-B strength, Class-A toughness, and the power to absorb energy directed towards him, transforming it into additional mass.

Ruby – British looker with the ability to control sound waves generated from other human bodies.

Ricochet – son of Olympic, possesses the ability to manipulate his own kinetic and potential energy and transfer it to forward motion, potentially to speeds beyond the sound barrier.

Templar – wielder of a Sword of Light, and faster than lightning. Young and inexperienced, he makes up the core of Superdynamic’s new team.

Focus – young martial artist from Korea with power emission abilities that are as of yet, relatively untapped.

Mirage – mental manipulator on a grand scale, master of illusions, former member of most larger supergroups and one of the most respected heroes of his age. Father of thirteen.

The Ladies of Pain

Bubblerella – cheerleader/stripper/sado-masochist, Bubblerella is in her mid-40s but still has the figure of a sixteen year-old and the fiendish nature of the Devil himself.

Deathshead – this masked villain is the “tank” of the team. Tough and unstoppable. Unfortunately, she is narcoleptic. Rides the hover-bike called the Murdermachine.

Stormfire – can control elemental energies, when combined with her partner, Skyburner, she is the deadliest and loveliest of the Ladies.

Skyburner – flamer with the ability to turn her whole body into raw plasma.

Razorstrike – the “pain” in the Ladies of Pain. She is a masochist, laden with leather, tattoos and piercings, enjoying dishing pain as much as she likes receiving it.

K-POP

D.i.s.c.o. – leader of the band, one of the most powerful matter manipulators in the far East. Enemy to Rikishi. Snappy dresser.

BINGBANG – he goes bang, you go ouch.

Hyula – former JV Idol in Japan, Rikishi broke her heart and now she fights along with D.i.s.c.o to destroy him.

Random Villains of D.C. (aka Dr. Zundergrub’s Army)

Hitstreak – he is the embodiment of a video game, with upgrades, special moves and combo hits. But once the red bar over his head runs out twice, he’s done.

Dr. Aeon – armored and deadly, the doctor likes nothing more than to see people suffer, beg for mercy that he denies them.

Psychlok – insanity personified, in the form of a mad high school teacher, turned man-machine, who can turn himself into a massive 30 foot-tall lizard monster.

Satanica – wielder of the Deathlash, thought to have been used in over 1,000 murders.

Tauros – man-bull, all beast and almost unstoppable, with Class-A strength and toughness.

Random Heroes of D.C.

Angelus – sent to Earth by St. Peter himself to watch over us, Angelus’ primary power was to invoke feelings of good in those he met. UN Ambassador to Africa.

Coach – Mind controller via ethereal silver threads that she weaves into the minds of her enemies. Retired and now coaching women’s basketball at a local D.C. highschool

Nitronic –

Moonlighter – a former billionaire who lost almost everything in the 2008 financial crash. Now he has turned his remaining wealth into a battlesuit and a myriad of vehicles. He now rules the D.C. nights, fighting crime.

Brimstone Bobby – the power of a volcano rests in the mighty fists of this great hero. These days, most villains just surrender, rather than fight him.

Doppler – master of reverse convection waves that can both pull and push a victim at the same time. Has a nasty temper. Not to be trifled with.

Carbide – he can adopt the molecular structure of any element while retaining his form and all bodily functions.

Silverstone – this former fashion model has the ability to harden the molecules of air into jagged crystal that she can propel at deadly speeds.

Revolution (2
nd
incarnation)

Apogee – fast, strong, deadly and beautiful. You know her.

Damage – a gravity controller, known more for his ebullient personality. Tends to freelance across the globe for supergroups of all sizes.

Dominus – the world’s foremost mind-controller.

Jasper – suffering from Progeria wasn’t enough to stop this hero from becoming one of the world’s greatest. A one minute fight with Lord Mighty (with help from the rest of the Revolution) let the big guy to decide to stand off, watch the events unfold.

Snaps – amazing disintegration powers, but an unwilling them to use them carelessly led to his defeat by Dr. Aeon in a one on one fight.

Mt. Fuji – as tough as they come, with the ability to “ground” himself and make himself immobile. Killed in D.C. in action against Tauros.

Selected Excerpts

It felt good.

For the first time in almost a year, I was out and on the loose, looking for trouble. This time on the other side, but it felt the same. It felt great.

I was in the outskirts of Kansas City, on patrol, driving the team’s converted ex-UPS truck. What team? The Midwest All-Stars, a team I hadn’t heard of until Superdynamic handed me a one-way ticket to Missouri. I didn’t care how bush league the team was, how far away from the major crises of the world they were. I was out there, doing it, and it was wonderful.

Blackjack was dead, in spirit and in name. I was Shadowshaft now, another dig from Superdynamic, an effort to knock the oversized chip off my oversized shoulder. I knew what he was doing, trying to reign in my old-time murderous ways, to teach me humility, force me to start from scratch. What he didn’t realize was how much I enjoyed it. This was supposed to be him rubbing my nose in the dirt, showing me what was what. Maybe I was just too stupid to know better. I was loving it.

And I hadn’t even gotten into my first scrape.

One week in, after the hurried arrival at Charles B. Wheeler Downtown Airport, a welcome from the leader of the Midwest All-Star, Powermaster - yes THAT Powermaster, the one from the New York fight versus the Superb Seven - and I was out on the streets, prowling for bad guys at three in the morning.

Listening to the police scanners, I’d gotten one call so far. Some lady whose husband came home drunk and she didn’t want to let him in. The police handled it, but I was down the street, ready for anything.

There were rules, though. Superdynamic had set them down in stone.

The first rule was don’t use your strength. I was back to toting a bow, designed by Super along with an entire compliment of arrows in order to minimize the damage I could do to body and property. Tasers, smoke gas, anything that would bring down a bad guy without killing him outright. The bow was designed to take my superhuman strength into account, and reduce it dramatically, so the arrow wouldn’t penetrate a human being’s fragile body. It also had a recording device onboard with GPS and WIFI, so he could not only keep track of me, but know what I was doing.

Yeah, and that was just the first of a long list of rules designed to emasculate Big Bad Blackjack and turn him into inoffensive little Shadowshaft.

Hell, I even was starting to like the stupid new name.

Rule six (or was it seven) stipulated I had to go to great lengths to hide my identity. My face was pretty well known. I was five points down from Ted Bundy in the poll that SuperD had shown me, so it was important that people didn’t recognize me. I had grown my hair long, a goatee - which itched like hell - and my costume had a facemask and hood designed to conceal me further. In addition, I had to wear shades everywhere I went.

I still got strange looks, but then again, I’m six foot six and almost three hundred pounds.

The surgery that saved my life added an inch to my height, but the painkillers I was taking were making it hard to lose the extra weight I gained while laid out. Every day was a better one than the last, so I wasn’t too worried. Soon enough, I’d be off the heavy meds and I could start working out. I never knew that there were workout regimens for supers, even as strong as I was. I figured I had to juggle train engines, or something ridiculous, but SuperD showed me a workout gym designed to task even my muscles back at his home base in Mali. But the time I could go into that gym and lift anything without pain was far away. Right now I was on a regimen of twenty pain-killing drugs a day and I was actually popping closer to twenty-five. These were horse pills, too. Huge and hard to swallow, designed for my overactive chemistry. If a regular human were to take just half of one, they’d fall into anaphylactic shock and a coma they’d never come out of. The pills were growing less effective by the day. Just thinking about the pain made me dig into my harness for the bottle and pop one in my mouth, downing it with a half a bottle of water.

Driving that big truck made me feel like a bringer of pain, a badass on the road, like a Hell’s Angel, deputized to beat some fuckers to the ground. The roar of the engine as I roamed the worst parts of Kansas City felt good beneath me, like the angered howl of an avenging spirit.

Then the call came. I was far, maybe a ten-minute drive, but the call came. I turned the truck into a clumsy turn, putting it on two wheels momentarily as I lost control on a spin. Stepping on the gas, the engine growled and the tires tore into the pavement, taking me to trouble.

“211S at Brother Bank and Trust on Minnesota Avenue and North 8th street,” called out the dispatcher, with the most important part added at the end. “Be advised, enemy supers reported at the scene.”

The local authorities had an anti-super designated SWAT, but I was already on my way, I would be there before anyone other than the first responding officers. I’d be there faster than the rest of my team, who I had called as soon as the word came in. Our home base was somewhat in the way, so I expected a call or two from the guys, asking for a pickup, but none of them responded as I drove past, no doubt sleeping through the call.

It didn’t matter, I was almost there and I was ready.

I was back.

I stormed out of the truck, leaving it down the street from the bank and checked all my systems as I ran towards a back alley. I fired up my LCD contact lenses with full sonar-based telemetry, getting a readout of everything in the vicinity. The bad guy’s vehicle was a heavy SUV, and a quick check of the license plate with the Kansas City DMV showed it to be reported stolen just two hours before.

Radar told me no one was in the car, and switching through the visible light spectrum, to infrared emissions, I saw the distinct outline of three humanoid figures inside the bank, closer to the rear of the building. I drew an arrow from my main quiver on my back, as the onboard computer read my wishes and selected a standard piercing head to install into the ready shaft, angled outward for an easier draw. The system lock was immediate, even though I was looking away from the car. When I gazed back, the nearest tire facing me was designated as target four, with the three figures assigned one through three. My entire rig was integrated to the LCD eye, the radar/sonar scanners in my suit and the arrowhead selection suite in my quivers so all I had to do was think it, and the device provided me with what I needed, including a direct line to local authorities.

The silent alarm had drawn a pair of KC cop cars, who I had been in contact with during my approach. They had begun the perimeter as other units were inbound, but at my request, the two officers had come in with sirens and lights out. We were radio silent at the moment, but all I had to do was wish it and the channel would go hot. Or I could just scroll through a series of over a hundred pre-recorded commands, like “Retreat!”, “Assault through the front,” and many others to cover just about every eventuality. Superdynamic had designed the arrows and the bow, but he’d given me free reign on the remainder of the suit and I’d let my creative juices flow.

The costume itself was a work of wonder, with a new design of my old semi-rigid cape, a tactical harness with dozens of gadgets and tools, including an integrated smoke grenade system, and a vanish polarizer that allowed me, if I stood still, to nearly disappear, even in broad daylight. I had also rebuilt my boots, my trusty old Asskickers, though I was under explicit instructions to only use them in cases of emergency, hence the need for the truck while on patrol. All of it was integrated to a watch computer I had rebuilt from scratch (with ten times the processing power).

The piercing arrow streaked through the air, popping the front passenger tire of bad guy’s SUV and my LCD immediately updated the target status as “eliminated.”

With the villain’s method of egress taken care of, I turned my attention to the villains themselves, scanning through the light spectrum to try to identify my targets. One of them was huge, monstrously so, almost nine feet tall, and burdened with heavy sacks that were probably full of money. Another was a small, lithe fellow, similar in body shape to Cool Hand Luke, but he had some tech on him, particularly near his extremities. The final villain was a woman of average height, wearing some sort of trench coat. From how she waved her arms, it was clear she was in charge.

What frustrated me and kept me from going in was the inability of my onboard tracking system to get a valid ID, even while interfacing with all of Superdynamic’s databases.

The reason for the return to the bow and arrow bit was Dee’s way to keep me from killing half the world all over again. He knew how dangerous I was, more so than most, and the whole point of my attempting the hero business was so I would walk away from that horrible past. That had been my first instinct when come out as a hero originally. Yeah, long before all the nastiness, I had tried to become a hero. But that was another story.

The bow and arrow created a buffer between my superhuman strength and any bad guy unfortunate enough cross my path. Some guys could take a punch, but few could take one of mine in anger. The whole gadget rig allowed me to bring down villains without turning them to pulp.

The big guy started coming out, and I instinctively fired up my stealth system, engaging hidden photovoltaic cells within my suit that created the illusion. He came out into the back alley, carrying a massive webbed bag which held over a dozen money bags, walking right past me before tossing the money in the open trunk of the stolen SUV. My targeting system finally identified the guy as Rockhead, a muscle-bound elementalist with Class-C earth control powers, and Class-B physical attributes. The guy wasn’t a challenge.

He finished forcing the last of the money bags into the trunk, then cocked his head in my direction curiously, settling his attention on the front tire.

“What in the...” he murmured, strolling to the arrow jutting out of the damaged tire.

As he doubled over to pull the arrow, I selected a taser arrow, setting it to 25% and put it into his back.

Rockhead let out a muted scream as he twitched backward, reaching for the source of pain somewhere in his lower back. He pulled the arrow out (the head was engaged and still attached to his clothing) as he shook violently, turning to face me. I raised the taser setting to 35%, making him drop to one knee. His face was wracked with pain and confusion, as my stealth suit made it seem like he was under attack by a flare of fabric, rather than a human being.

“Attack,” he managed, and only then did I realize he had a communication system jutting out of his left ear.

“Dammit,” I said, raising the setting to 75% and running toward him. I powered a kick into his face, but he managed to summon up enough of his power to change into his namesake rock form.

Unaffected by the taser arrow any more, he came to his feet and took a swing at me. I wasn’t supposed to do it, but it was almost instinctive, I fired my rocket boots. Flying over his blow, I spun over him and fired a gas arrow, exploding it at his feet. He might have been covered in heavy rock, but he still had to breathe air, and in an instant the whole area around him was replete with tear gas.

His partners responded as I was finishing my spin, arriving at the alleyway and seeing their companion under attack. The slim fellow was bare-chested, with tall, spiked yellow hair that would have made Billy Idol proud, with heavy gauntlets and boots, far too big for a guy his size. The woman had long, straight black hair and wore a long, leather trench coat.

Tracking told me the thin guy was Crankchain, a techie with a semi-suit that allowed him Class-B strength and toughness. Unfortunately, I had nothing on the girl, but instead of introductions, I fired a pair of flash-bangs in their direction and turned my attention back at Rockhead who was unaffected by the tear gas. He was tearing huge chunks of wall from the back of the bank and hurling them at me. I turned and twisted, avoiding each, rising higher in the air to add distance, when a huge metallic hand flew hard into me, knocking the air out of my lungs, and the bow out of my hands.

“Bring him back, Crank,” the woman shouted, and I started flying back toward the rear entrance to the bank, held aloft by the metal fingers clasping my body. The device was magnetic somehow, or anti-grav, and while it moved slowly, I was in a bad position to escape.

Crankchain held his handless arm in my direction, controlling my movement, apparently unaffected by my flash-bangs. His face was a twisted rictus grin, insane and rabid, eager to inflict pain. As I came closer, I also got a good look at the unidentified girl, whose doe-like blue eyes, soft lips and pale face were completely out of place beside the insane lunatic Crankshaft.

I strained against the fingers, breaking one open.

“He’s breaking out!” she said.

“That’s impossible,” Crankshaft spat, firing the other hand at me. I had enough leverage to destroy the first projectile hand, ripping it apart and falling to the ground.

Right into Rockhead’s grasp.

He caught me as I fell and I was back in trouble. Crank’s second hand held off, floating near us, ready for anything.

“Fuck this asshole up,” Rockhead said, spurring his partners on, though I was pretty sure he meant that more for the girl.

“I’ll hit you too,” she said, moving closer, but Crankshaft followed his companion’s advice, slamming his fist into my grappled form.

The construct was so big the blow struck both Rockhead and I, with me bearing the brunt of the shot. Still, it hurt the big guy more than me. I felt his footing fail, and he staggered a half-step back, loosening his grip slightly.