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| Issue #2 December 2005 |
"Renovations" Part Two: Breaking Ground Written By Thomas Deja |
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Note: This issue takes place after the events presently unfolding in Uncanny X-Men and Avengers.
What Came Before: In the first issue, we saw the fully formed Champions as they coped with their first major task, a plague of zombies unleashed by the renegade voodoo preist named The Black Talon. Now we return to see how they got to that point...
******
"The windows are bulletproof."
The statement--which was made casually, as if the speaker was talking about the weather--was made as the limosuine Warren Worthington and Natasha Romamova passed by what seemed to be the hundredth burned out building. The place they had come to for this meeting was damn near desolate; were it not for the occaisonal appearance of life on stoops, on sidewalks and streetcorners, Warren would have doubted the place was inhabited at all. The smell, a strange and offensive mixture of urine and rotting garbage and smoke, managed to reach them even through the closed windows and the air conditioner.
"It's so..." Natasha started to say.
"Empty?" the man sitting across from them said. He was a man in his mid 40's, although the lines around his eyes and the stoop to his shoulder made him look older. There was already liberal streaks of grey throughout his hair. "Most of the residents of Blue Heights learned to stay indoors long ago. They confine themselves to their apartments, sending out the kids to go to the nearest bodega or 99 cent store--"
"Where are the supermarkets here?" Warren said. Outside, a woman who looked barely out of her teens exchanged money for a small white envelope.
"There are some in The Fold, in Sanderson. But with all the robberies and assaults and other...colorful activity, it's not profitable for a major grocery chain to operate in the Heights. Since I took office, I managed to fund a number of co-ops in the area, but it's not enough. And with the bus strike, and the increasingly outmoded transportation fleet...well, it's easier to pay the corner bodega's prices. Well, that or take your chances with the freshness and quality of the 99 cent store's food."
He paused and looked out the window. "You know, according to some sociologists and city planners, you can tell how impovrished an American city is by the number of these stores...we've got two or three on the same block in some parts of the Heights. This city is one sinkhole away from Hell."
Warren turned away from the window and looked the man straight in the eye. "Then why bother being mayor of such a city, Mr. Aguilar?"
Natasha noticed how their host did not waver, kept eye contact with Warren. "I was part of the first generation of kids born in Vermillion, Mr. Worthington, back when the founding of the city was a cause celebre'. The city council at that time were bouyed by the sociological studies that also conned John Lindsey into believing there was an easy solution to poverty and despair. By the time I was ten, my family fled here for Los Angeles, along with the typewriter factory that employed them. From afar, I watched Vermillion turn from this...this oasis of hope for the lower income people of California to a cesspool that Californians were advised to stay away from. I never forgot where I came from. I always kept track of it...and when the time came, I stepped up to offer myself as mayor for one reason: to find a way to restore that hope that Vermillion was founded on."
"A very pretty speech, Mayor," Natasha said, leaning back in her seat. The line outside the limo window was giving her unhealthy flashbacks to her home country, no matter what the people were lining up for. "It is obviously why you won the election."
"It's not just a speech. I mean it," Mayor Aguilar insisted.
"And you think bringing a super-team here will solve your problems?" Warren asked.
"Not just any super-team...your old team, Mr. Worthington," the Mayor replied. "I remember that brief time when you, Ms. Romanova and the others were together, you gave a speech on how you wanted The Champions of Los Angeles to be 'The Heroes For The Common Man.' That speech connected with me, Mr. Worthington, and I believe that if the citizens of Vermillion had a hero team that was theirs, something they could hold onto as distinctively their own, it would inspire them. It would coax them out of the tombs their apartments had become and help them become a community again."
Mayor Aguilar took a moment to remove a small binder from the pouch on the seat's armrest. "I can't offer you much in the way of incentives," he continued as he handed the binder to the mutant industrialist. "Some tax rebates, some real estate you can use to build on immediately...but I hope you will show me what you meant about being heroes for the common people."
Warren took the binder in his hands and looked at its primitive, white-paper-and-laserprinted cover. He was silent in his study, the noise of a squealing car in the background interupting the lull in the conversation.
When he did speak, his voice was faint, almost far away.
"I'll think about it," is all he said.
******
"You already thought about it," Natasha told him as they stood on the roof of the Humana Clocktower. It was one of the few tall buildings that hadn't been cored out and left for squatters, an impressive structure whose giant bronze clockface could be seen for miles around the city. The sun was setting, its crimson light causing reflections to rake across the near-empty streets.
Warren nodded. "I have to do this."
"Much as we had to form the Champions originally?" the beautiful redhead asked with a toss of her scarlet tresses. "Need I remind you where that led the five of us."
"This will be different."
"How?"
Warren turned to face his friend. "I'm going to move some of Worthington's operations here...I'll move here myself. Help the Mayor to attract more business--"
"You're serious," Natasha said, the corners of her mouth turning down more and more into a frown. "Warren, tearing up your roots to squat in this rat's nest--"
"I need this, 'Tash," Warren stated simply. He paused, took a deep breath. "I'm not going to ask you to understand."
"Well, maybe if you gave me more information so I could understand...."
It took a long time before Warren spoke. "Someone very close to me died last week. I had the opportunity to be there, to help her, maybe even save her. But I had to attend a board meeting, and...."
The Russian woman took three steps toward Warren and enfolded him in her arms. His head rested on her shoulder. "Oh, Warren...I'm so sorry."
"I let her die because I keep these lives of mine separate. I keep saying that if I didn't go running off...." He paused again. "If I move here, bring some of my holding with me, if I start up the Champions, my life will be integrated. I'll have everything in one place. I won't have to hear..."
Natasha patted Warren on the shoulder. "It is alright, my friend."
The awkwardness of the moment became apparent to the two, and they drifted apart. Warren made a show of inspecting himself before asking, "So can I count on you to lead the team again?"
Now it was Natasha's turn to be speechless. "Me...oh, Warren, surely you should look elsewhere for a leader. I let you down all those years ago, I let the Avengers down--"
"Says who?" Warren shot back. "Last I looked, it was me who hired all those people who screwed up my finances so much I had to shut the Champions down. And it wasn't as if you could control the whole Onslaught situation."
"No...no, Warren. My leadership days are over."
"They're only over because you say they are," the Angel countered. "Look, I know you're a capable boss-woman. Just as I need this to show myself I can balance being a businessman and a hero, you need this to prove to the world that you're capable of being the point woman on something beneficial to the world."
"I don't know--"
"What are you doing these days, Natasha? Freelance spying? Taking money from the highest bidder to troubleshoot around the world?"
A small, sardonic smile crept across Natasha's lips. "Says the unrepentant Capitalist."
"The unrepentant capitalist who's going to return this city to a livable and safe condition." Warren looked out once more onto the Vermillion streets. "You've got skills enough to defuse world situations, 'Tash. Wouldn't it be nice to use those skills to build something for people who deserve it?"
It took a moment for her to join him in the view. They looked at the streets, trying to discern what could be under all the dirt and broken asphalt.
"Let me return to the East Coast for a few days," Natasha told him. "I gather you want to bring the other former Champions in on this?"
"The X-Men are going through some rough times, and I don't want to tear Bobby away from there," Warren replied. "Darkstar's got her own team to deal with. Johnny Blaze has been missing for weeks; I've got people looking for him but--"
"You fear the worst," Natasha finished with a nod. "I may have a few people I can refer to you to fill your ranks. And there's always Hercules...."
Warren grinned in spite of the grief that was still deep in his gut. "Yeah, there's always Hercules."
Natasha fell silent again. She reached up and turned Warren's face so she could look him in the eye. "I will go back to New York and think on this. Can you give me that?"
Warren nodded his head.
******
"You know, we could use you here, Natasha."
Natasha sat across from a man she'd known most of her adult life as he scratched his uneven beard and studied the circuit board in front of him. It was still shocking to her that this was Tony Stark; in her time as the Widow she'd seen him at his lowest and yet even when he had scurried into the bottle at the depth of his addiction to alcohol, he hadn't looked worse. It was obvious that the man hadn't been sleeping regularly, and his posture had a weariness to it that made him seem older than his actual years. And yet, here he was trying to deflect the reason she came to him and turn it into a recruitment speech.
She gave him an unsteady smile. She surriptitiously sipped air from between her teeth; the face was, her friend was on the verge of being ripe. "With all due respect, Tony, I think these people need me more. They're one step away from anarchy."
Tony lowered his goggles and adjusted his acyetoline torch to a small blue flame. "Something's been throwing the Avengers for a loop...me and Steve and Janet are going to straighten this out, but that still means we're going to need some heroes we can trust. I can put your name into the pool."
Natasha lowered her head, pushed a lock of red hair out of her eyes. "Tony, love, I was a terrible Avenger."
"You were a great Avenger who did what needed to be done during a terrible time in Avengers history," Tony countered.
"A lot of people have been telling me that," she said in reaction under her breath. She looked at a man who started out as her enemy, but was now a good friend. "What Warren wants to do is very valid. I want to be part of it, and I'm going to be. And if the Avengers need us, we'll be there."
"It wouldn't be the same," Tony replied. "I know Steve's behavior at Hank's funeral ruffled a few feathers..."
"It's not that..." Natasha reached out and placed her hand over her friend's wrist. "Tony, think about it. We can't officially become the Avengers' west coast arm, but those of us who were part of this won't forget you. We'll be there, providing the eyes and ears on the west coast you used to have--and if it ever came to it, we would be by your side in an instant. This sort of arrangement I can persuade Warren to enter into."
Tony was quiet for a moment. "I'd have to talk to Steve and the others about this."
"I'd expect you to."
The two friends allowed silence to pervade the workshop. "You know," Tony finally said, "he might say no."
"I doubt Steve would turn down such an opportunity. He did not survive as long as he had by turning his back on such offers."
"I wasn't talking about Steve." Tony put aside his tools. He swivelled in his chair and met her gaze. "Fabian might not want to come out west. Ravencroft says he's making progress, and he might opt to stay in familiar surroundings."
Natasha smiled in spite of herself. "He was a good man, Tony. May not have started in the best place, but he more than proved himself as a member of the Avengers organization. If it wasn't for what happened with Onslaught--"
Tony nodded. "I didn't say I wouldn't make the calls. I just don't know what he'll do. He may be better, but he's not one hundred percent stable."
"But that's what I think Warren is looking for," Natasha suggested. "People like him, who need to find their ways back...who can be helped just as much by being a part of the Champions as the people of Vermillion can be helped by them.."
Tony rose up. "I'll make the appointment. If he's agreeable, I'll get him released in your custody. After that, it's up to you."
Natasha got up and smiled. "Thank you, Tony. It does mean a lot."
"Then don't fail. Show me you're making the right choice.
******
Warren felt his bones jangling inside his body, the effect of an overenthusiastic, overtly muscled arm being thrown around his shoulders.
"Ho! As if you need ask, friend Warren! The adventures we shall have when the Champions gather together once more!"
With his other massive hand, the bearded Hercules, prince of power, brought the keg of beer up above his head. A stream of golden liquid cascaded down the Grecian god's throat and down his chin. He tipped the metal drum back and asked, "Are you sure you will not quaff this mead called Miller Ice?"
Warren smiled. "It's okay, Herc. I'm trying to cut back."
Hercules laughed and slapped Warren on the back so hard the mutant stumbled forward. "So be it! Let us revel in the reunion of comrades the likes of which have never been seen!"
Underneath Hercules, a young man in a letter jacket squirmed--the top of a pile of similarly dressed men in various states of consciousness. "C-can we go home now?"
Hercules looked down upon his flesh-and-blood perch. "Hast thou and thou comrades learned the folly of harassing fair maidens when full of drink and lust?"
"Y-yes, sir," the man stammered.
Hercules stepped off the pile and nudged it with one of his shoes. "Then go--leave lest the Prince of Power decide to show you the error of your ways at the end of my fist!"
Warren shook his head and smiled. Yes...there was always going to be Hercules to raise a man's spirits.
******
Natasha stood in the doorway and watched as Fabian Stankowicz finished packing. Just as it was shocking seeing Tony in the delapidated state he was in, it was startling to see the changes the road to convalescence had put the young inventor through. His hair and beard, once a rich brown, was now almost totally grey. A pudgy man in the best of times, he now was gaunt, the hollows under his eyes giving him a haunted look. He looked easily ten years older.
She made a mental note to do her best to get him on some sort of theraputic diet to make him at least appear on the edge of health.
"You're going to laugh when I say this, Ms. Romanova," he said in a voice that cracked, as if he was uncomfortavle using it so extensively. "But I want to visit Disneyland when we get settled."
She chuckled in spite of herself. "Disneyland is a little further south of where we will be situated."
"But, you know," the young man said as he shut the latches on his suitcase. "I always wanted to go with my mom and dad....I never got the chance to do any traveling, even when I was with the Avengers Crew."
"Well, I will talk with Mr. Worthington," Natasha replied. "Maybe we could conduct a...company field trip one day."
Fabian turned, the suitcase tucked under one arm. "I'd like that."
"Good. Let's--"
"You Natasha Romanova?"
The voice came from somewhere to Natasha's right. She turned to see a slight young woman with short brunette bangs obscuring her face. "That is I, yes. And you are?"
Fabian waggled his fingers. "Hi, Mattie."
"Hi, Fabes," the woman said in return. "You going to Cali to help this new super-group?"
Fabian nodded his head. "They might let me design a new suit of armor."
"Cool."
Natasha looked from the young man to the new arrival. "Pardon me, but you didn't even answer my question. Who are you?"
The young girl stuck out her elfin chin. "I'm Mattie Franklin. And I want to join you."
"With all due respects," Natasha replied. "I do not recall making this an open casting call."
"Oh, but Mattie was a good hero," Fabian stated. "She was Spider-Woman for a while."
It took a moment for Natasha to call up some vague memories of Matt Murdock telling her about a new Spider-woman, one whose career had ended badly. "This is not a team for everybody, Ms. Franklin. We're making a commitment to a certain urban area, and--"
The girl suddenly became a flurry of activity. She stepped forward, arms flailing. "Look, you want references or something, I can give 'em. Ask Jessica Jones, or-or Spider-Man. They'll vouch for me, and...."
Natasha raised a hand. "I have only heard of you by reputation, which isn't stellar. The fact that you're here indicates some form of mental problem--"
"I..I'm a drug addict," Mattie offered in a small voice. "I was addicted to Mutant Growth Hormone. It even screwed up my brain chemistry, made it difficult for me to...the doctor said it altered the way I think, which made it difficult for me to access the source of all my abilities...but I'm clean, I've been clean for six months, and I need to do something, and when the word of where Fabes was going--"
Once more Natasha's hand went up. "Jessica Jones, you say?"
The girl nodded.
"I will talk to Ms. Jones. Based on her testimony, and my consultation with my partner, I may come back and discuss the organization with you. Is this acceptable?"
Mattie hesitated for a moment before nodding again.
"Good. We'll be in touch."
******
"You will explain to me what we are doing," Hydra Section Chief Ghorman asked the black man in the white suit as they watched the activities in the clean room.
The black man once more fingered the circlet made of feathers that ringed his right bicep. Without looking at the Section Chief--to do so would be to once more take in the man's distaste at having a man of color in the special facility Hydra built in an abandoned subway switching station underneath The Fold--he said, "Your terror, my religion...both require a certain level of chemistry. The catalyst that causes zombification is an actual chemical compound that slows the body's respiration system to a point where the soul can be trapped before it passes on. What I have discovered in my studies is a way to bond my zombification agent with a nerve agent of your organization's devising. If the shell we use to deliver this new concoction is properly prepared, it will allow for our future victims to become zuembie, loyal to us, within seconds of their succumbing to the toxins."
"An...interesting theory, Talon," Ghorman offered.
"It is not a theory," the Talon replied in a polite tone that hid within it a vicious rebuke. "I abandoned theory after the mercenary Deadpool defeated me."
Behind him, the Talon heard one of the lesser Hydra guards whisper to a fellow, "...after he laughed at the man's chicken head." The Talon grimaced, but continued.
"But, as gracious as your Baron Strucker has been in backing my plans, he wishes a demonstration," Talon said conversationally, all the while reaching into one of the small bags he had tied to the belt loops of his linen slacks. "When he sees its effectiveness in the trial here in Vermillion, we will proceed to douse Beverly Hills with the toxin...then the Market district in San Francisco, then Oakland....the anarchy that springs up in the wake of a plague of the living dead will serve both our causes."
Ghorman nodded. "Yes, I must--"
Before the Section Chief could finish, the Talon turned to face the guard who had spoken out of turn. He held open his palm and blew. A cloud of reddish-brown dust blew into the young man's face, causing him to cough. "You will choke now, I think."
Immediately, the guard dropped his gun, his hands clawing at his throat as he gasped for air. The wheezing of the guard became more and more pronounced as he slipped to the floor, his skin turning blue. Behind him, Ghorman gasped, "Gott in Himmel."
Only when it was obvious the hapless young man had breathed his last did the Talon say, "You are welcome to disrespect my skin color and my heritage. But I will not brook reminders of what I have been."
The Talon looked over his shoulder at the stricken Ghorman. "Is that clear?"
Ghorman nodded.
"Good. Let us continue. We do have a schedule, after all."
Next Issue: As the Champions of Vermillion continue to consolidate their presence, the Black Talon's plans barrel toward its launch. Witness how the final member joined the fold, and how certain denizens of the city react to the presence of a new super-team. It's all in the third part of "Renovations."
The Comments Page That Could Be YOU!
Okay, those of you who read this will notice that there are references to things that may not have happened yet...I know.
Look, one of the things I've been working with doing at Altered Visions in concert with Doug, Derrick Ferguson, Thomas Moses and others is creating a better sense of continuity in the group. Far too often, when you say that, you hear people screaming 'crossover!' or some such, but we don't want to do that. Back in the old days, you'd see Daredevil swing by in the background of Iron Man's mag, and it was a given. That's what we're doing here.
Some of the events cited here--especially Warren's motivation for reviving the Champions--are unfolding right now in the pages of books such as The Uncanny X-Men and The Avengers. Do you need to read these books to understand Champions? Of course not. But if you do, you'll get a richer reading experience.
So check out all the books on AV's site! You might be glad you did.
--Tom Deja
