Carmilla Black sprinted down the Las Vegas alley way. It wasn't the typical dark and brooding alley that most people think of. In Las Vegas, nothing was actually dark. Whether it was the shining searchlights of the Strip's casinos or the seedy neon of strip clubs and all-night liquor stores, Vegas was always lit up. Carmilla was cursing that fact tonight.
"I'm continuing in pursuit of assailant," Scorpion growled into her comm. link. "How is it back there?"
"Redwing's fine," Thunderstrike replied. "He was only clipped by the bullet. Any guesses why someone shot at us?"
"Why isn't my question," Scorpion replied. "Mine's how. How did this guy know we were here?" Carmilla's eyes narrowed as she focused on her target. "And I'm about to find out." Scorpion poured on her reserves and jumped. She hit the wall, pushed off and catapulted herself into the back of the man who had shot at the A-Next team moments ago. Jessica had only taken them to dinner. She had just wanted them to see what Vegas was all about? There was no special mission, no target, just a night of relaxation following a couple difficult weeks of training.
Scorpion hit him hard, knocking the man to the ground. She rolled and stood quickly, launching into a defensive stance. The man recovered just as quickly, on his feet and attacking within just a few seconds. Carmilla dodged a high roundhouse kick aimed at her head, and then blocked a punch with her armored "stinger," her nickname for her toxic arm. She kicked the man hard in the ribs, then jumped into the air and kicked out at his head. He dodged the kick and caught her leg. He swung Carmilla around, and threw her to the ground.
"He's good," she muttered. She jumped up and instantly rushed the man, hoping to take him by surprise. He sidestepped, but Carmilla expected that and dropped as he took the step. She braced herself with her hands, and then kicked out, sweeping the man's legs from underneath him. He fell hard, and Carmilla was instantly on top of him. Sitting on his stomach, she punched him across the face, then grabbed him by the shoulders, picked him up slightly and slammed him to the ground.
"Who are you?!" she cried. "What do you want with us?!" She got a good look at the man for the first time. His face was masked, but his eyes were visible. They were a bright icy blue unlike anything else Carmilla had seen, and a lock of blonde hair stuck out just about his right eye.
"My name's Morphine," he growled. "Anything more than that, you'll have to figure out yourself!" He arched his body, throwing Scorpion off, and twisted, freeing himself. He hit a switch on his belt and an aura of light surrounded him, teleporting him away.
"Damn," Scorpion muttered, standing up and brushing herself off.
Morphine ripped off his mask the moment he materialized. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to involve her. He grabbed a cell phone off the shelf of the small suite he was operating from. His employer saw to it that he was taken care of, as he had spared no expense. The room was nice, the equipment was good, and the job would have payed handsomely. If she wasn't involved.
He hit send for the last number that he had called and a familiar voice picked up on the other side.
"Is it done Morphine?"
"No, it's not, and it won't be!" he angrily growled. "You did not include her in the hit sheet."
"Include who?" the man's voice asked innocently.
"Don't play games with me," Morphine barked. "I will not kill my sister!"
Jessica Drew rubbed her eyes. She'd found the action to be very common over the last few weeks. Ever since A-Next had been placed in her charge, the stress was building. Fortunately, the headaches hadn't started. Since regaining her powers and beginning to work with SHIELD,* Fury had kept her on the dirty work tasks that required a superhuman. She didn't know how many times she'd had to deal with a low-level mutant who thought he'd try to use his powers to steal top secret information. The assignment with the Department of Defense seemed like it would be a cake walk after that.
* (An untold story for another day- trust me- Tony)
"Miss Drew?" came a soft voice from in front of her. Jessica looked up to see Kate Bishop. A look that bordered between panic and confusion danced across her face. The A-Next team was growing restless in the hospital waiting room, while Jessica stood outside the room where the doctor was patching Redwing's arm.
"Hey, you know to call me Jessica or Jess, sweetheart," she said to her young charge. "What's wrong?"
"The thrill's wearing off," she muttered, sitting down in a thinly padded chair set against the wall. "When Willoughby first showed up at my house, it was cool. The government was making me into a superhero. Then I found out I already was. Everything was locked up inside me. I knew how to use my powers, I knew how to fight, and I knew information about this team I was put in. I didn't question it for a second." Kate leaned her head back and rested it against the wall. "After tonight, we're all kind of asking the questions now. Whys and how's and what not."
"I think I know what you mean," Jessica replied. "Getting shot at makes you question things a bit." She crouched down in front of Kate to look her in the eye. "Have you kids even gotten a chance to get to know each other?" Kate looked up and shook her head.
"No, I really just know the basics." She shrugged. "Hulkling's from the Midwest likes acting and stuff. Thunderstrike's a reader and the athletic type, from Jersey, but I won't hold that against him." Jessica laughed, remembering that Kate was a New Yorker. "Yeah. Redwing keeps to himself. Mockingbird's electronics slash sci-fi nut and Scorpion..." Kate turned her head towards the waiting room. "Carmilla's been through a lot."
"Yeah," Jessica replied standing and tracing Kate's gaze. "Being a teenaged SHIELD agent will do that to you."
Jordan Willoughby sat alone in his office, his fingers pressed together. He looked at his computer screen thoughtfully. It displayed the names of the six possible candidates for the identity of their mole, based on A-Next's sting operation several weeks ago.* Their questioning was collectively inconclusive. The Red Skull had trained them well, whoever it was.
* (Last issue- Tony)
Jordan reached out to his phone and pressed the speed dial number for an agent under him. An agent he trusted.
"Dillon?" he asked when the other man answered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to email you a list of names. This is meant to be strictly between us. I want their bank records from the last year. Can you handle that?"
"Yeah Jordan. Send them over." Agent Dillon Cloves paused for a moment. "You want anything flagged?"
"No," Jordan replied. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Dillon replied. "And the new director's here. He would like to meet you." Jordan stood, propped the phone between his shoulder and cheek and straightened his tie.
"Well then, I'll be out in a bit. Thanks again Dillon."
"Anytime boss man," Cloves laughed. Jordan hung up the receiver and stepped away from his desk. He turned and looked out the rear glass wall of his office. He could see John Buckner's office from where he stood. The former A-Next director was murdered in the infirmary wing of the complex, the cause of death a fatal dose of cyanide pushed through his IV.
William Reid set a box of office paraphernalia on the desk in the office as Jordan crossed the busy status floor for the project. Willoughby had met Reid once before. He was one of the three original directors for the A-Next project, alongside Buckner and Leon Gordon. Reid and Gordon were both reassigned by the Department of Defense a year after Project A-Next really gained speed. He understood both men were disappointed, but Reid more so than Gordon. He considered the project his baby, Buckner told him, and tried to get it back for months before resigning himself to his new assignment.
Jordan knocked on the door of the office. Reid looked up and motioned him in. He walked across his desk and met Jordan a couple feet inside the door. He offered his hand, which Jordan shook.
"Agent Willoughby, it's a pleasure. I've heard a lot about you. Please, sit."
Michael Johnson sat engrossed by the basketball game enfolding in from of him. They had taken top row seats in the stadium and could see the entire Cox Arena. It was his first year at San Diego State University, and he loved it. It was such an exciting experience, away from home for the first time. His parents had worked so hard for their only son to reach this point. Despite the fact that he was adopted, John and Caty Johnson treated him like... the greatest person in the world. It was hard for him to really put his feelings into words.
"You're eating this up, aren't you?" Marianne Robinson asked him from his left. Michael smiled at the blonde girl. They'd met in the dorms early the previous semester. They'd fallen in love shortly thereafter. She was thin, of average height, and her hair fell naturally in curls across her face.
"You say that like I'm a hick," he laughed. "But yes, I am." He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
"Hey asshole, you're in my seat."
Michael turned and found a tall young man standing next to him. A look of disgust was clearly scrawled across his face. He was bulky, dark haired and obviously had some sort of superiority complex.
"Dude, it's general admission seating," Michael replied.
"Whatever man," he replied. "You're with my girl too." He cocked his head up and kissed the air, meeting Marianne's eyes. She sneered in response. Michael stood and drew himself up to the other boy's level. He was almost as tall as his "opponent" and was only a few pounds lighter.
"Tell me, if these are your seats, what's your name?" he asked.
"Gary Hall, as if it mattered." Michael nodded at Gary and took a step around him in the aisle. Gary turned to face Michael, putting his back to the basketball court.
"Well then, Gary. Apparently you think its fun to torment innocent couples and make advances on others' girlfriends. Tell me- is this making up for the fact that your dick's microscopic?"
"You little-" Gary balled his fists, stopped, relaxed and looked back at Marianne. "I'm going to take care of him and be back for you in a second babe." He reached down and pawed her breast to reinforce the statement.
"You jackass!" Michael jumped at Gary. Marianne covered her chest with her arms, and Gary turned back to Michael, shoving him backwards.
"You want to play rough now hunh?" Gary taunted. "Play this!" He punched Michael with his right fist hard across the face, and then punched him again with his left. Michael tried to retaliate but Gary punched him hard in the stomach. Security began to notice the fight at this point and came running towards them. Michael collapsed, doubled over in pain. Gary kicked him in the groin, grinning fiercely.
"I'm gonna have some fun with your girlfriend tonight asshole," he said. The security personnel reached them just as he finished the statement.
"Son," one of them said. "We're going to have to ask you to leave." Gary looked at them and sneered.
"Yeah, whatever." He then looked back down at Michael, sneering. Michael looked back up at him. Gary and the security personnel both gasped. Yellow energy was crackling out of his eyes, forming an aura around him.
"Asshole."
A blast of energy tore through the arena, tearing the building apart.
"So this large of a staff isn't strictly for Project A-Next is it?" Reid asked. Jordan turned and looked across the status floor. He nodded.
"Since we activated a group of operatives a good chunk of the staff was diverted to that," he declared. "Part for locating the Red Skull, part for monitoring the kids and so on. Before that though, a large portion of the project was actually dedicated to monitoring potentially dangerous young SPB's or potential SPB's."
"Really?" Reid asked. "I didn't know this."
"I never worked in that branch of the project," Willoughby replied with a nod. "I'm familiar with the seventeen youths we've been monitoring though. I'm surprised you weren't briefed on that as you were transferred in, sir." One of the female agents from the floor suddenly knocked on the office door. Reid motioned her in.
"Sir, it's one of the youths we've been monitoring," she said.
"Agent Willoughby was just telling me about this," Reid said with a nod. "What about them?"
"Well sir, we just got word from the military in the San Diego area," she said. "It's Michael Johnson. He's manifested superhuman abilities." Willoughby looked at her in shock.
"Are they sure?" he asked. She nodded.
"Oh shit."
Bobbi Wheaton took a deep breath. They'd been waiting in the hospital for some time now. Jessica had assured them that Kyle was okay, that the bullet wound wasn't severe, but Bobbi still worried. They all did. The stress of the day just added to her encounter with the Mad Thinker almost a week ago.* She still had doubts about that. Although he claimed to be her father, within seconds he was revealed to be a simulcra, an android poseur. Could she believe what it was saying? Or was it a lie to attempt to distract her from her mission?
* (Project A-Next Annual 2006- Tony)
"You look tired," Billy Kaplan declared. Bobbi looked up at her teammate and smiled.
"A little," she replied, motioning to the chair next to her. "Thinking about stuff too." Billy nodded and sat down.
"Your parents?" he asked. Bobbi looked up a smiled.
"You could say that," she laughed.
"That's all I've been thinking about today," Billy said. "I mean, my mom and dad knew that I was involved in some government training program, but when that DoD agent showed up at my door..." He looked at her and gave her a weak smile. "Man, I was scared. My mom was crying, worried that I was being rushed off to war and my dad... I could tell my dad was scared. But there was something else in his eyes."
"What was that?" Bobbi asked.
"I think..." Billy paused, contorting his face slightly. "I think it was pride. Pride that his son was going to be a superhero." Billy laughed. "I want to call. I want to tell them everything. Hell, I just want them to know that I'm all right." He looked at her. "And you?"
I just found out my biological father might actually be a maniacal super villain who has tried to kill every superhuman on this planet short of El Aguila at least once. Maybe.
"I bounced around foster homes from the time I was four for a while until I was adopted," Bobbi said. "My mom was nice, but she was a push over. My father... he wasn't abusive by any means, but he wouldn't win any awards either. He was a jerk." She took a deep breath. "I wondered at first if I was in A-Next because he was getting paid. He did it for the money."
"At first?" Billy asked, obviously fishing for further explanation.
"Yeah," she said, giving him a weak smile. "At first." Before he could prompt further, her cell phone went off.
"Text message?" he asked. Bobbi nodded as she checked the phone.
"It's Jess. Willoughby just called her. She wants us to come talk to her." She stood then offered her hand to help Billy up. He took it, stood and they took several steps, before suddenly realizing they were still holding hands. They let go, both blushing slightly and continued towards where Spider-Woman had prompted the kids to meet her.
"So they need us to find this kid?" Hulkling asked, looking for confirmation. Teddy was steadily growing impatient of waiting in the hospital for Redwing's release.
"Exactly," Jessica replied. "I just downloaded the file the Project had on him. It's going to be interesting."
"What did he do that prompted us coming after him?" Scorpion asked. "I mean, our entire team seems like overkill for one kid."
"He tore apart a good portion of a basketball arena with his energy powers," Jessica answered. "Energy powers that the Project had feared he was going to develop."
"That sounds like the Project was observing him for a while," Mockingbird said. "Why?"
"Because of who they suspect his father is," Jessica stated.
"Okay..." Hulkling replied.
"Who's his father?" Thunderstrike asked.
"His name was Michael Korvac..."
In Project A-Next #6: Michael Johnson is scared and on the run. He's discovered powers that he doesn't understand, and doesn't want. What will happen when he encounters A-Next? The results will definitely be explosive!