Civil War Prose Novel (20 page)

“Pepper, I need a cleanup crew.” He looked around at the wreckage. “And see if you can get the president of the United States on the line, will you?”

A
smell of fresh ink rose up from the brand-new driver’s license. Captain America handed it to Sue Richards. “Barbara Landau,” he said.

“Ryan Landau.” Johnny Storm looked up from his own license. “We’re supposed to be
married?
”

Cap looked up from the paper-strewn conference table. Fluorescent lights glared down, painting the group in unflattering, washed-out hues.

“We’re running low on cover identities,” he said. “With Daredevil incarcerated, our source has dried up.”

“Married.” Sue glanced over at her brother. “That’s got to be the creepiest thing we’ve ever done.”

“How do you think I feel, sis? You look like my last date’s grandmother.
Ow!
”

Cap sighed. Moving to the new headquarters had been difficult; transporting the monitoring and medical equipment across town had seemed impossible until Sue showed up. Her invisibility had saved them from detection several times.

But the Resistance, Cap knew, was still on shaky ground. He couldn’t forget Hawkeye’s parting warning, about a traitor in the group. And his own injuries were still slowing him down. His left arm still hung in a sling; it stabbed with pain every time he stood up.

Take it slow,
he told himself.
Remember what you told the others: Step by step. Brick by brick.

Tigra walked in, frowning. “Still no cover ID for me?”

“We’ve gone over this, Tigra.” He indicated her bikini-clad body, covered head to toe with striped orange fur. “You’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Yeah.” Johnny smiled. “Must be tough looking as hot as you.”

Tigra purred and rubbed her back up against Johnny’s shoulder. She turned, flashed him a flirty smile.

Sue rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, Mrs. Landau,” Johnny said.

“I used to pass for normal all the time,” Tigra said. “All it took was an image inducer.”

“Which is Stark Enterprises technology,” Cap said. “We can’t have any of that here; Tony’s probably got everything they’ve made in the past ten years tagged with location tracers.” He turned back to Sue and Johnny. “As for you two, the important thing is: These cover identities get you out in public again. Which lets you help people. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

Tigra smiled again, turned toward Johnny. “He’s always so righteous,” she said, gesturing at Cap. “Takes all the fun out of arguing with him.”

Luke Cage strode in, leading the others. “Say it loud, Cap. You like the new crib?”

“It’ll do. Spartan, but that’s a plus.” Cap rose, gave Cage a half-hug. “What was this place again?”

“African-American Employment Specialists, Inc. Helping the hardworking black man compete in a white man’s world. Fell victim to the economy, an’ it’s been empty more’n a year.”

“No love for the hard-working black man,” Falcon said.

Cage nodded. “Mmmm-hm.”

One by one, they filed in and took seats around the big table. Cage, Falcon, Tigra. Dagger, Photon, the newly arrived Stingray in bright red and white. Sue and Johnny, Patriot and Speed.

The Resistance.

“Okay, let’s get to it.” Cap scanned a handwritten agenda. “Anyone been captured lately?”

Photon was a relative newcomer, a young African-American woman with light-based powers. “Nighthawk and Valkyrie,” she said, “busted in Queens. Which cuts our aerial team down to Falcon and yours truly.”

Stingray spread his wings. “And me,” he said.

Falcon frowned. “Glidin’ ain’t flyin’, son. No worries, Cap. We got it covered.”

“Damn S.H.I.E.L.D. units.” Cap clenched his wounded hand into a fist, felt the pain stab through his arm. “For every man we’ve gained these past few days, we’ve lost one too.”

“And they’re all in that prison.”

“Maybe we can do something about that,” Cap said. “Does anyone know the status of their prisoner transfer plans?”

Sue cleared her throat. “Tony and Reed are setting up Negative Zone portals at major prisons around the country, including Rykers. But none of them are operational yet. So far, everyone’s still being shunted through the Baxter Building.”

“The Baxter Building.” Cap raised an eyebrow. “Susan, can you get us in there?”

“Normally, yes. But I…I’m sure Reed will have changed the security codes. I might even be a liability…the computers would detect my presence immediately.”

“Just as well. I’ve got another urgent mission for you.”

Cap turned to Johnny, who shook his head. “Don’t look at me. If Suzie can’t get in, I don’t stand a chance. Reed’s been making notes on how to nullify my powers since…since before I
had
powers.”

“Dammit. There
is
a window of opportunity here.” Cap swept his eyes around the group. “If we can take down the portal in the Baxter Building, that’ll leave them without anywhere to send our guys. In a week, that won’t be a problem for them. We’ve got to strike soon.”

“Cut the cord,” Cage said, “and the whole thing unravels.”

“If we’re lucky.”

“What we need is to get some guys
back
,” Falcon said. “Make this a fair fight again.”

“What do they call that place?” Patriot asked. “Number 42?”

“Nobody knows why.”

“Knowing Tony Stark, it prob’ly has something to do with his dad—”

They all heard it at once: heavy footsteps, boots clomping on the outer hallway floor. All eleven Resistance members shot to their feet at once, turned toward the doorway—

—and saw the Punisher, lit stark black and white by the glaring lights. Filthy water dripped from him; he smelled like old trash. In his hands he held a limp, bloody form, its costume ripped and shot open in a hundred places.

Spider-Man.

“Get me a medic,” the Punisher said. “NOW!”

THE
infirmary had been hastily adapted from an open office area, cots and diagnostic machines crammed in where cubicles had stood before. Two medics lifted Spider-Man onto a bed, casting wary glances at the Punisher.

“Doesn’t weigh much,” the first medic said.

Punisher grunted. “Try carrying him three miles.”

Cap and the others stood back, leaving a wide area free for the medics to work. But Cap’s eyes never strayed from the Punisher.

“What happened?” Cap asked.

“Multiple fractures and serious blood loss,” the Punisher replied.

“I mean—”

“Tony Stark and his buddies. I think there was some kind of hallucinogen in the bombs they attacked him with, too.”

“And you rescued him.” Cap crossed to the Punisher, confronted him directly. “What happened to his attackers?”

Punisher shrugged.

The medics looked up from Spider-Man’s limp form. “This costume is fused to his skin in places.”

“Remove every inch and burn it,” Cap said. “It’s Stark issue—they could be tracking him right now.”

“You know,” Tigra said, “this might all be a setup.”

Punisher smiled. “You think
I’m
working with Tony Stark?”

“I don’t understand any of this.” Speed shook his head. “You all saw the press conference. Spider-Man is so far up Iron Man’s butt you can’t see his feet anymore.”

“Maybe he was, kid,” the Punisher said. “But he’s on our side now.”

“
Our
side?”

“Falc—”

“No no, Cap, give me a minute.” Falcon pushed past Captain America, pointed a finger at the skull emblem on Punisher’s chest. “You’re a wanted murderer, Punisher. You’ve capped more men than most of the guys we fight. Since when are you on
our side?
”

Punisher stared him down. “Since the other side started enlisting super villains.”

Tigra smiled grimly. “Am I the only one seeing the irony here?”

“The way I see it,” Punisher continued, “you people need all the help you can get.”

“Great,” Johnny Storm said. “Why don’t we call up Hannibal Lecter and see if he’s available, too?”

“Because Hannibal Lecter doesn’t have the black-ops training to get you into the Baxter Building.”

Falcon stared. “You can do that?”

“I got in
here
.”

Falcon opened his mouth, started to reply. But he stopped, as the implications sank in.

Sue Richards looked around. “Please tell me this group isn’t so far gone that we’re signing up the
Punisher
?”

On the medical table, Spider-Man stirred. He let out a faint moan.

Cage turned to Cap. “Your call, boss. Do we hand Skull-Man over to the cops, or do we hear him out?”

Cap turned away, frowning. He’d run up against the Punisher once before; it had been one of the toughest fights of his life. Punisher could be a formidable ally, for either side.

On the table, Spider-Man lay, frail and writhing. Fighting for his life.

I’m trapped,
Cap realized. Whichever way he chose, whichever path he took, something terrible was going to happen. He could sense it, deep in his war-hardened bones.

And they’re all depending on me. To lead them; to help their lives make sense again. To build this tattered Resistance into a permanent force for good.

Step by step. Brick by brick.

He turned back to the Punisher.

“Talk,” Cap said.

“TAKE
a breath of that air, Hank.” Tony Stark spread his arms. “Lot healthier than New York, am I right?”

Initiative Training Camp 09AZ, in Arizona, bustled with activity under the bright Southwestern sun. Newly registered recruits, in brightly colored training uniforms, flew and ran and sparred and lifted Sherman tanks for practice, all across the sprawling yard. S.H.I.E.L.D. officers and men in clipboards followed them like mother hens, nodding, frowning, and jotting down notes on each recruit’s performance.

Fully half the yard was cordoned off for new construction. S.H.I.E.L.D. troops mingled with government workers in backhoes and steam shovels, shouting instructions back and forth. They’d been laboring round the clock, knocking down old buildings and laying down new foundations, converting the former Marine base into a facility resilient enough to house superhumans. Like everything else in the Registration plan, the camp was coming together on the fly—and very, very fast.

Hank Pym flashed Tony an unsure smile. He squinted up at the sun, shaded his eyes from the glare.

“I’m just not sure, Tony. I’m a bioresearcher, not a drill sergeant.”

“You don’t have to be the guy in the yard with the megaphone, Hank. I just want you running things.”

A blurry figure whizzed by, too fast to see clearly. Hank frowned. “Who’s that?”

Tony consulted his tablet computer. “Hermes. Greek god, newly arrived on Earth. If
he’s
willing to register…”

“What kind of speed is he hitting?”

“Mach One, if he hasn’t eaten. But we’ll have him at Mach Three by the time we go public.” Tony smiled. “Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. How’s Jan?”

“We’re not really, uh, talking right now.”

Hank’s attention turned to a group of young people in trainee costumes, standing and laughing. He looked sad, lost.

He needs this,
Tony thought.
And I need him.

Tony felt impatient, hot and out of place in his Armani suit. The tablet computer in his hand seemed slow; he’d become accustomed, he realized, to controlling machines with his mind rather than his fingers. He hated taking the armor off these days. It made him feel like a fish stranded on land, flailing around for data.

But the main Iron Man suit still needed a couple hours of repair, time Tony just hadn’t been able to find. Besides, he’d wanted to appeal to Hank as a man, as an old friend. Iron Man was becoming too much of a public authority figure.

“’Scuse me, guys.” A burly construction foreman gestured to a huge crane, lumbering toward them. A massive, one-piece building frame swung from its main cable. “Need to get this down on the foundation.”

Tony and Hank hurried out of the way. “Holographic Combat Simulator building,” Tony said. “When it’s operational, it’ll let you train the recruits in hundreds of different simulated environments.”

Hank smiled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“There’s no
time
to give up, Hank. We’re setting up the Champions in California, those new Mormon heroes in Utah, and I’ve assigned the Spaceknights to Chicago.”

“I heard Force Works is going to…Iowa?”

“Pending background checks and the local authorities giving their absolute approval.” Tony paused. “The public needs superpeople they can count on, Hank. We’re doing this right, or not at all.”

Hank nodded. “How’s Reed doing?”

“I have no intention of getting between him and Sue. He did insist on immunity for her and Johnny, as a condition for his continued assistance. That took some talking with the president, let me tell you.” He took Hank by the arm. “Enough of this. Come on—there’s somebody you should talk to.”

He led Hank over to the recruits. Stature, formerly of the Young Avengers, stood with a green-skinned girl sporting a spiked Mohawk and a brawny, cocky-looking blond guy. Tony checked their IDs on his tablet: Komodo and Hardball.

“Hank, I think you’ve met Cassie Lang.”

Hank stared at Stature. “Of course. But the last time I saw you, you were…” He held his hand three feet off the ground.

Stature smiled. She shot up, using her powers to rise up to eight feet in height. “Not anymore.”

“Dr. Pym invented the size-changing serum you use, Cassie.” Tony watched as she shrank back down to normal size. “I think you could learn a lot from him.”

“That’s why I’m here. To learn.”

“See, Hank? Cassie’s late father was the second Ant-Man, and now she’s the heir to your serum. In a way, they’re like your children.”

“You forgot one of my ‘children,’ Tony.” Hank turned away. “Bill Foster.”

Stature shrank down to normal size, grimacing. Komodo and Hardball just watched.

“Tony,” Hank continued, “can you just
offer
me this position? What about S.H.I.E.L.D.? Has Director Hill signed off on it?”

“Don’t worry about Hill, Hank.” Tony shook his head. “She didn’t exactly distinguish herself with the Thunderbolts beta test.”

Komodo stepped forward. “Is it true Spider-Man got away?”

“Temporarily.”

Stature looked worried. “What are you gonna do, Mister Stark? When you find Cap, and the others?”

“Finding them isn’t the problem, Cassie. The point is to make them see reason. That’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t understand.”

A nervous, dark-haired girl approached the recruits. “Guys, guys, they want us to do drills in ten minutes. I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Stature put a hand on her shoulder. “Be cool, Armory. It’ll be fine.”

Armory held up her left arm. Alien weaponry covered it, flashing and humming with energy. “I don’t know if I can control my power.”

“No, no. Stop!” A coach with a clipboard approached, pointing behind Tony. “I said sto—”

Then something slammed into the group, scattering them. Tony stumbled and fell to the ground. He spat sand, brushed off his jacket, and climbed to his feet.

A blur of motion sped away from them, too fast to see clearly.
Hermes again,
Tony realized. Then he heard a scream, and a crackling of energy.

Armory had been flung ten feet away. She knelt down in the sand, cradling a bruised leg. Then she pointed her weapon-arm upward, and fiery alien energy flared out of it. A bolt flashed forth, arced over the yard past a construction site—

—straight into the main admin building, punching a hole through the wall.

The yard erupted in panic. Recruits scattered, running for cover. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents scrambled for their armor, dodging Armory’s wild, uncontrolled assault.

“
Armory!
” the coach yelled.

Tony crawled over to Hank Pym, who lay sprawled in the sand. Stature was just picking herself up, dazed.

“Hank, I don’t have my gear with me. You have to solve this.”

Hank stared at him. “I’m not a super hero anymore, Tony.”

“No.” Tony pointed at Stature. “But
she
is.”

“Me?”

A bolt of energy slammed into the ground, three feet away.

“Violet—Armory. She’s got this…bad panic reflex,” Stature said.

“Cassie.” Hank ushered her back behind a maintenance truck. Tony followed them, watching carefully.

“I need you to grow very large,” Hank continued. “Thirty feet or so.”

She stared, shook her head. “My dad said never to grow that big.”

“It’s—”

“He said my spine would snap! Square-cube, something.”

“The serum has a calcium booster—your bones can handle the strain for a few minutes. Not for long. But it’s our only hope right now.”

She leaned around the edge of the truck. Tony looked, too: Armory was barely visible, lost in a haze of swirling sand and alien energy. Force-bolts continued to radiate out from her. One struck a Jeep, and it erupted in a fiery blast.

Stature nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to grow. Ten feet tall, then 12. When she reached 15, she stopped and looked down at Hank.

He smiled. Nodded, gestured upward.

She drew a deep breath and shot up.

Hank pointed. “The new building!”

Stature turned to look at the Combat Simulator building. It sat newly installed on its foundation, mortar still wet around the base. The construction workers had fled from the site, huddling behind Jeeps and steam shovels.

Keeping one eye on Armory, Stature crossed the yard in two ground-shaking strides. She reached down and grasped hold of the entire Combat Simulator building, struggling to lift it.

“Use your knees!” Hank yelled.

With a crunch, the building came loose of its foundation. Stature lifted it to waist-level and tottered, nearly falling backward under the weight. She grimaced, shifted her burden, and grew one more foot taller.

Then she turned toward Armory.

The recruits had all run away now. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents held positions in copters and the remaining trucks. But S.H.I.E.L.D.’s authority, Tony knew, had been reduced following the Thunderbolts debacle. They were waiting for his signal, waiting to see what happened next.

Armory spotted Stature looming above her, and screamed again. Her eyes glowed, her alien arm flashed wildly.

“Violet,” Stature said. “It’s okay. It’s me, Cassie.”

Armory’s eyes focused. The energy receded, just slightly, retreating to an area eight feet around her body.

Stature saw her chance. Slowly, gently, she deposited the heavy building
around
Armory. The panicked girl looked up and around, but didn’t move. When Stature was done, the structure enclosed Armory completely, hiding her from view.

“It’s okay,” Stature repeated. “You’re safe now.”

She stepped back, eyeing the building nervously. Tony watched, expecting to see force bolts shatter its walls from inside. But nothing happened. The energy-crackle died down, quieted to a low hum.

Tony led Hank out from behind the truck. All around, in the yard, little fires burned. Recruits crept sheepishly out of their hiding places; S.H.I.E.L.D. agents reached for fire extinguishers.

Closing her eyes, Stature shrank back down to normal size. She walked up to the Simulator building, now awkwardly deposited at an angle in the middle of the yard. Almost comically, she knocked on its door.

The door creaked open, catching briefly on a rock. Armory peeked out, her power-arm dormant now.

“Sorry,” she said.

Komodo and Hardball rushed to join Stature. Together, they helped Armory over to the main administration building.

Hank frowned at Tony. “You still think this is a good idea?”

Tony turned to him, stunned. “Are you kidding? This incident
proves
it. We just had a potentially deadly super-power outbreak, which was defused quickly with zero casualties. Imagine if that girl were untrained, and her panic attack had occurred within a city.”

The coach approached, out of breath. “Sorry, Mister Stark. I just—you can’t exactly control a Greek god—”

Hank stepped forward, a stern look on his face. “Where is Hermes now?”

“Prob’ly halfway to Flagstaff.”

“Hadn’t you better find him before he gets
all
the way there?”

The coach turned to Tony, baffled.

Tony smiled. “Take a S.H.I.E.L.D. regiment if you need one.”

The man nodded, hurried away.

Tony turned to Hank, placed his hands on both his friend’s shoulders. “Now do you see why I need you here? Normal humans can run drills, keep records, evaluate performance charts. But I need someone with
real powers experience
running this place.”

Hank nodded, slowly.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Tony shook his head. “I should be thanking you.”

They stood together, watching the S.H.I.E.L.D. teams douse the last remaining fires. Coaches lined up the recruits, counted heads, and barked out orders. An administrator stood arguing with the reluctant crane operator, pointing at the displaced Simulator building. Tony overheard the word “overtime” mentioned, more than once.

“It’s all coming together, Hank.” Tony’s voice was low, thoughtful. “We should have done this years ago. Soon the world will be a better, safer place.”

A better place,
he thought. And yet, he couldn’t silence a small voice inside. A tiny regret in the scheme of things, but a failure that nagged at him nonetheless.

If only Peter Parker were here, too.