Legends of Firestorm #8

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Legends of Firestorm #8
Visions of Tomorrow

Written by Joel Sawyer (Glippernip)
Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)

Slowly, Firestorm drifted across the chamber, his every move watched, recorded. He waved at the nearest visible camera, lowered his atomic density to zero and flew through the wall into the adjoining, sealed chamber. It was a strange room, though the Nuclear Man knew it like the back of his bright, yellow glove. Reaching the central core, he used his powers to add just a couple of electrons to the atoms of the hard cube at the center of the mechanism. Visually, it didn’t really change, but Firestorm’s other senses felt the elements “catch fire”, and Martin Stein imagined the needles jumping suddenly on all of the sensors in Control. Firestorm waited nearly five minutes as the crew in Control monitored the activity, looking for leaks, malfunctioning components, anything that posed a threat. Once they were satisfied, they signaled Firestorm, who flew upward and out of the Cold Fusion Reactor of the Hudson Nuclear Facility.

Without any real urgency, he drifted above the Facility, almost floating in the wind, and Stein’s sense of pride welled up inside their dual form. Then, like a rocket, Firestorm zoomed away, circling and landing behind the facility before transforming. With a handshake and a smile, Ron Raymond headed for the school, while Martin re-entered the Facility grounds, the smile still on his face.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Ron was 20 minutes late for first period, but since he had actually been finishing his homework lately, he was prepared. Sadly, the first period English teacher was a complete bore, and it still felt like an hour to Ron before the bell rang.

In the hallways, as students rushed to their next class, Ron met up with Doreen. They shared the next class, American History, and no others through the day, a sad fact they both had to live with. Ron even had two classes with Cliff Carmichael, the most annoying teen in the entire school. Life was not fair. Either way, the couple had “talked” (“Oh, man, she wants to have ‘The Talk’ with you,” Jefferson had laughed in mock horror), and were officially, publically, a couple. The whole thing mystified Ronnie, but it seemed important to Doreen. Nothing else mattered.

Ron yawned violently into the back of his hand as Doreen approached.

“You’re that excited to see me. I see how you are,” she teased in a stern tone but not quite a stern expression.

“You know ‘Stodgy’ Hodges. He teaches English as if he’s reading cue cards.”

She snickered, then became momentarily distracted. “Hey, Crystal, haven’t seen you in a week! Call me later.” She turned her attention back to Ron. “Yeah. Mr. Worther assigned us an element to write a short paper about.”

“An element?”

“Yeah.” Fishing out a page from her science textbook, she continued, “He gave me Tantalum.”

“Let’s see,” Ron replied, thinking, “Tantalum, symbol is Ta, atomic number 73, atomic weight 180.94788. It is a heavy metal with a melting point exceeded only by Rhenium and Tungsten.” Ron paused, suddenly feeling self conscious. “What? Do I have food on my cheek?”

Doreen gaped at him, her eyes wide in a mixture of surprise and awe. “How did you know all of that?” she asked.

Great question, Ron said to himself silently. “Well, “ he lied, “at my last school, we worked really hard on the periodic table. I don’t know what it all means, really (which was true), but I memorized 14 or 15 elements. Guess I haven’t lost it yet.” He instantly regretted lying to her.

“Well, well,” a slightly nasally called loudly from behind Ron, “our Mr. Raymond surprises everyone with some random knowledge.” Cliff Carmichael, with his brown, eighties hair cut and almost mutton-chop sideburns had a style all to his own at Malloy High, stepped up from behind Ron and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The way Doreen looked for a moment, I thought you had cut the cheese!” Cliff grinned from ear to ear, as if Ron was suddenly his greatest friend. “See you both in Mr. Ravenhair’s class,” Cliff said, strolling quickly past the duo.

“Ok, today is getting too weird,” Doreen said, exaggeratedly frustrated. “First you and Tantalum, and now Cliff.”

“Cliff’s not being weird,” Ron explained, reaching behind himself. “He’s just being Cliff.” Ron showed Doreen the paper that had been taped to his back. It read, “I Just Pooted”. Ron shook his head and asked, “Is Cliff still in sixth grade, or what?”

From ahead, Cliff heard the last remark and smirked. Is that a challenge, Raymond, Cliff mused to himself.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Martin Stein walked into his lab at Concordance Research, still singing in his heart. So far, the plant ran smoothly, with no glitches whatsoever. Of course, “his lab” was more like an office with some basic scientific equipment and a very expensive computer linked to the Concordance database. The equipment he used to develop his theories were owned by Concordance and found in other labs throughout the 10 story building. Their resources, his science.

“Hey, Martin,” a male voice called from the doorway. “You’re certainly looking chipper!”

Stein deflated a bit.

Harry Carew jogged in place in the opening. Carew stood 5'6" with bright blond short-cut hair. He was a bit short, but stocky and strong. A health nut, he ate only natural foods and exercised at least twice a day. He was also a brilliant mind in sound manipulation, having several patents that would keep him in whole foods for the rest of his life. His usual mode of dress, sweat pants and matching T-shirt with a head-band (mostly emblazoned with his own name) and a towel rolled and draped over his shoulders. The guy could annoy a dead man.

“Hello, Harry,” Martin said, falsely adding cheer to his voice. “The plant is up and running, with no snags so far. After nearly dying twice there and having it shut down for so long, I guess I am feeling upbeat.”

“That’s the spirit. Stop by my lab later and I’ll make you a fruit, carrot, and wheat grass smoothie,” Carew said. “Gotta run. Clocking in, in 5 minutes!” Then he was gone, but his exit was quickly followed by Belle Haney, another colleague of Martin’s. For a woman in her late thirties, Belle looked good. Red-brown hair past her shoulders, though tied to keep out of her face at work. Her eyes still sparkled, and she still thrilled at each new discovery, especially in her field of Computer Imaging.

“Congratulations, Martin,” she gushed, “I know you’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Thank you, Belle,” he replied with a smile, “though I wish it had not come with such a cost.”

She locked eyes with him. “You survived, Martin. There is no crime in that. Remember those who were killed, but you can’t just ignore your own triumphs.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he agreed, noticing a few things for the first time. Her warm, encouraging smile seemed a bit too wide. Her perfume rose to and tickled his nostril slightly, a light, easy flowery scent. She leaned toward him slightly, very intent on his face. As he looked into her eyes, her smile broadened a bit.

“That’s the spirit,” Belle replied, touching him on the elbow. “You deserve some credit.”

She’s flirting with me, a confident little voice seemed to tell him, though he wondered if the signals were genuine. He had never been good at reading people, and even his ex-wife had been the aggressor in their short courtship and marriage. He hadn’t noticed Crystal’s advances at all.

For the first time in years, Martin Stein’s mouth worked with out consideration, almost on its own accord. “I should celebrate,” he stated. “Would you join me for dinner on Friday?”

A surprised look jumped on her face (although the shock really didn’t show in her eyes, did it?). She answered, “I would be honored to join you in your triumph.”

Moments later, as Belle Haney left, Martin found himself admiring her figure. Then, he shook himself a bit, wondering, What in the world is happening to me?

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

It happened in about 1 ½ seconds. On the twentieth floor of a glass-skinned high rise, a young, clean faced worker slipped a bit, and then his guide wire failed. Instead of catching him like it was supposed to, it simply detached, and the man fell. His first thought: I’m going to die! His second thought: What just happened? With a loud FZAM!, a huge airbag appeared beneath the plummeting worker.

“Are you OK?” Firestorm asked, flying in close to the man and helping him out of the bag.

“I think so,” he answered. “My shoulder hurts, but I’ll take that over dyin’!”

Firestorm laughed. “Glad I could help.” The red-and-yellow, flame-haired hero launched into the sky.

“Seems like we’re both pretty pleased today, Professor,” Firestorm stated as they soared across lower Manhattan.

>>Admittedly, it has been a positive day,<< Stein replied, >>and thank you for indulging me in an evening flight. Though I do not remember much from our time as Firestorm, I seem to recall how much fun this is.<<

“Martin, I wanted to tell you about a freaky thing that...” Ron stopped in mid-sentence, his head jerking to the side as he caught something in his peripheral vision. He adds, “Do you see what I see?”

Several blocks down, on the roof of a fifteen story structure, stood a huge, multicolored sign. It stood like a billboard, three sided so it could be seen from any direction. It simply read, ‘FIRESTORM’ in large orange letters on a black background.

>>I think someone wants our attention,<< Stein helpfully said.

Firestorm snorted. “Even I can see that. Wanna check it out?”

>>Certainly.<<

Firestorm turned sharply and rocketed toward the rooftop. He was mildly surprised to see a man waiting by the sign. As the hero moved in for a closer look, the pudgy, balding white man rose from his chair and strolled forward.

“It took you long enough,” the man complained, absent-mindedly stroking his thin moustache. He wore black khakis and a blue button down shirt with a white lab coat over it. He finished, “I’ve been waiting here for three days!”

“Sorry,” Firestorm said, not really knowing how else to respond. “What... can I do for you?”

“My name is Thomas Oscar Morrow,” the man stated, puffing his already puffy body up a bit. “Yes, T.O. Morrow, insert your own joke right here, I’ve heard them all. My father had some of my ability, though, and named me quite appropriately.”

>>He’s a nutjob,<< Firestorm said mentally.

>>Perhaps not,<< Stein suggested telepathically. >>I’ve heard of Morrow. He tried to patent technology that he couldn’t have created himself, but he never could explain where the tech came from.<<

“Simply put, my lad,” Morrow continued, “I’m going to kill you.”

Firestorm snorted involuntarily. “Why? How?”

Morrow paused, irritated by his target’s incredulous reaction. He pulled down the Firestorm sign, which was made of cloth on a frame. Within the framework that had held up the sign stood a robot, bronze colored and futuristic, straight out of Star Wars. It stood about 7 ½ foot tall, and its arms ended in weapon ports. Its head looked vaguely like a hood obscuring a face, though two glowing “eyes” stared out of a black face plate.

“You see, Firestorm, I build futuretech. Once I set myself to a certain task, such as killing you, I build whatever I need. It just comes to me. Sometimes I can reverse engineer what I create and duplicate the technology, but usually I cannot. I don’t even really know how this android even operates, but I’ve tested it and it works. I call it Murdermek.”

>>I’ve stepped right into a 50's B-movie,<< Firestorm thought. “Look, I don’t really want to fight, so I’ll...”

“Do you think I’m joking,” Morrow asked angrily, livid at Firestorm’s demeanor. “I’ve looked into you hero-types. I know you could avoid Murdermek if you choose. Murdermek!”

The robot moved, turning toward the command voice.

“I’ve downloaded the information in your systems,” Morrow continued. “Your target, New York Representative Walter Reilly. Terminate.”

“Terminate Walter Reilly,” the robot repeated.

“Reilly is at his New York residence at this time,” Morrow added. He looked at Firestorm. “Now if you just fly away,” he sneered, “a member of the House of Representatives... dies!”

Murdermek stepped forward, and Firestorm fired an atomic burst. With a sharp FZAM!, waves of pain surged up his arms and into his head. He dropped to one knee.

“I told you I’ve studied you,” Morrow gloated, bragging. “That robot’s armor isn’t metal at all. It is an organic, living compound I grew and molded to the shape I desired.”

Murdermek rose into the air, its feet apparently a propulsion or anti-gravity system. Through gritted teeth, Firestorm watched the android take off.

“Shouldn’t you go after it?” Morrow asked.

Putz, Firestorm thought. He launched himself after Murdermek as Morrow belly-laughed.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

“Don’t know what this thing can do,” Firestorm muttered. “Might as well try the direct approach.” The Nuclear Man fired at the machine, this time transforming a passing painting frame and a volume of air into weights locked onto Murdermek’s arms and legs. Suddenly burdened, the terminator arced downward and rocketed into the street.

>>That was not smart, Ronald,<< Stein interjected. >>Though this isn’t a weekend, the streets of Lower Manhattan are still quite busy.<<

“I know. I’m sorry. Guess I’m still clearing my head.” As Firestorm approached Murdermek broke its bonds, then lifted a parked, full-size pick-up over its head.

“Any who impede my mission will me neutralized,”it stated.

“Put the truck down,” Firestorm said, trying to channel Sylvester Stallone into his voice.

“You want it down, I’ll put it down,” the robot said, slamming the vehicle down onto Firestorm. At zero density, the hero floated up and out of the wreckage.

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’m fighting Johnny Five!” He transformed the totaled truck into a spring-loaded giant hammer and pounded Murdermek with it.

“I am invincible,” it told Firestorm, “You will be neutralized.” It destroyed the hammer device by driving both arms downward, but Firestorm again changed the debris into concrete, trapping his foe. Another transformation, and a 10,000 lb weight (which read ‘10.000 LBS’ in big white letters on the side) dropped on the machine. As Murdermek broke from its confinement, Firestorm tapped into the New York power supply and electrocuted his opponent. It staggered, but swung its arm, Firestorm dodging the attack.

“You are truly a formidable human,” it stated with Morrow’s recorded voice in a mechanical tone, “but you cannot overcome me.”

With all of the punishment it just took, I’m wondering if it is right about that, Firestorm thought.

Murdermek fired three rockets at Firestorm, which he changed into ping pong balls. >>Morrow didn’t think to create weapons from the organic compound,<< Stein thankfully said.

The robot then fired a strange blue beam from its “forehead”. Seeing no one behind him to be injured, Firestorm phased out, but the beam hit and effected him anyway.

There was no real pain. Suddenly, his arms and legs felt like lead and he trembled, like the sensation you get after a particularly violent vomiting session. Dizzy, he phased back in, his gut clenching.

>>Ronald, look out,<< Stein shouted in their mind.

He tried to dodge, but his reflexes failed him. Another volley of mini-rockets slammed into Firestorm and exploded, and the hero ricocheted off two buildings before crashing into a sidewalk café. Screams rang in his ears with the clatter of plates, tables, silverware, and glass.

Martin screamed, >>Ronald, we are on fire!!<<

He quickly created water to douse the flames, but the deep, searing pain persisted.

“Neutralized,” Murdermek declared from down the street. The robot launched again, leaving Firestorm in waves of nauseous agony. Sitting up and looking down, he saw burnt flesh hanging from his forearm.

“Hurry, “ a waiter yelled, “bring water and the first aid kit. Call 911.”

>>Ronald, before we go into shock,<< Martin commanded, >>transform the water, air, anything into the compound I’m thinking of. It is a topical anesthetic.<<

Still dizzy, Firestorm followed the instructions, dousing his limb with the chemical. While the effect was instantaneous, it did not take all of the pain away. He altered some more debris, creating a loose bandage and then repairing his sleeve, to keep the wind from aggravating the burn.

“Are you all right?” a familiar voice asked.

Firestorm wiped tears from his face and looked up... right into the eyes of Ed Raymond.

Firestorm wrenched himself to his feet, staggering a bit, and said, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m Ed Raymond, newspaper reporter,” Ed replied, “You look like you need to go to the hospital. I have my car here, if you can’t fly. Otherwise, I’m sure an ambulance will be here soon.”

I can’t do this right now, Firestorm thought. He’s my dad! “Not with that monster loose,” he answered. He flew about forty feet, then turned back toward Ed. “That thing is after Representative Reilly,” the injured hero shouted. “If you can get that onto the news, maybe Reilly won’t be home when it arrives.” He zoomed off.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Luckily, the android left a contrail of particles Firestorm could follow with his elemental analysis ability. He flew faster that he ever had before, the wind whipping at him. At this point, at least three news helicopter followed his progress.

“We need a plan,” Firestorm stated.

>>I agree,<< Stein replied, >>We can’t just create armament without destroying the surrounding area, and it can take a great deal physically.<<

“It stopped,” Firestorm instructed, gritting his teeth and increasing his speed. As he flew, he created a net full of hard rubber balls.

Ahead, Murdermek stared at the house. “Target not present,” it droned. “Reviewing options.”

Suddenly, it turned and fired its mini-missiles, but Firestorm launched his rubber balls, turning them into titanium as they flew. The missiles exploded nearer to Murdermek than Firestorm, and the remaining titanium cannonballs pounded the robot immediately after.

>>Blades, Ronald,<< Stein suggested, >>or pointed objects.<<

Firestorm complied, launching spinning saw blades and spiked cannonballs, but none pierced the robot’s defenses.

In response, Murdermek fired a laser weapon.

“Can’t rely on intangibility,” Firestorm muttered. “This thing can effect me even then.”

>>Morrow accounted for many of our strengths,<< Stein said. >>Are there any abilities we know that he wouldn’t?<<

Firestorm changed another missile volley into Styrofoam. “I don’t know,” Firestorm grunted, hitting Murdermek with a steel bat. “I can’t remember where I’ve used our powers.”

“Irrelevant,” Murdermek bellowed, unaware it was not the intended listener. “I am invincible. You will fall.” The robot froze for a moment, and Firestorm could vaguely here a news report from the machine. “Target reacquired,” it said at last.

“They told Reilly’s location on the news,” Firestorm said disgustedly.

>>Heat,<< Stein stated. >>Murdermek’s shell is partly alive, all living things respond to drastic temperature changes, and we’ve only used pure heat once, against Killer Frost. Morrow couldn’t have been watching us then.<<

“You have the recipe’s for napalm or white phosphorus?”

>>I’m afraid not.<<

The android fired its laser weapon even as Firestorm phased down into the ground. As Murdermek’s sensors worked to locate its nemesis, Firestorm shot up behind it and jumped onto the machine’s back, heat already radiating from his body.

“You cannot win,” Murdermek droned, trying to reach Firestorm. “I am invincible.”

The searing pain growing in his injured arm, Storm increased the atomic reaction and created more heat. The lawn around them withered and shriveled. The police arriving found that they couldn’t get close. It became apparent, however, that Murdermek’s design was flawed after all. Its joint moved in a mostly human manner, and it couldn’t effectively aim its weapons at a target holding on to its back.

>>Ronald,<< Stein noticed excitedly, >>it’s cracking!<<

Not exactly cracking. The smooth, plastic-like shell was shrinking, and the seams were opening and pulling away from each other. Firestorm could now sense the properties of the robot’s internal components.

>>Its innards could also be organic,<< Stein offered.

Firestorm grinned, despite the pain, driving his atomic restructuring power into Murdermek, transforming the air itself in every space he could find to Flourosulfuric Acid, 1000x stronger than sulfuric acid. As the corrosive worked, it created more open space, and Firestorm filled that with the liquid. Murdermek stumbled, and Firestorm let go.

>>How did you come up with that compound?<< Stein asked.

“Actually, we need to talk about that later,” Firestorm answered.

“I will neutralize any who impede my mission,” Murdermek stated. “I am invinci... I am invinc... I am in...”

They felt the change within the android and transformed as much of the super-acid into harmless elements as they could. “Get down,” Firestorm shouted through a newly-created cone to the police and bystanders on the street. Murdermek began to shake, and that is all anyone needed to dive for cover. Firestorm lowered his density even as Murdermek exploded into a thousand little pieces, its own shell diminishing the force of the explosion.

“All the king’s horses,” Firestorm quipped, putting out a couple of small fires. His arm stung.

>>A shame, really,<< Martin thought. >>Truly incredible technology, now lost.<<

“We really don’t need any more of those running around,” Firestorm said sternly.

Then the cheering began. Looking out to the street where the police had parked, a crowd of at least one hundred onlookers including officers, pedestrians, and news crews clapped and cheered. Firestorm drifted toward them, and one dark-haired young woman called out, “Firestorm, I’m Roxanne Sharpe with WJAS news. Your battle was broadcast live nationally! How do you feel?”

“Like an anaconda ate me, barfed me back up, and ate me again,” he answered. Then he passed out at her feet.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Firestorm lay unconscious for less than ten minutes. He awoke as an emergency crew pondered what to do with him. After a drink of water, he spent several minutes repairing some of the damage to his body. As he prepared to leave, a small entourage entered the compound. The grey haired man in a blue, three-piece suit in the lead saw Firestorm and strode purposefully toward him.

“Are you Firestorm?” the older gentleman asked as the hero stood.

He looked around, just in case someone else’s head had caught fire. “That would be correct,” he said.

The man shook his hand gingerly. “I’m Representative Walter Reilly,” he explained. “I understand, not only did you destroy that thing, but you put its target on the airwaves and likely saved my life. I wanted to thank you profusely for your efforts. I hear you were terribly injured. If there is anything I can do...”

“I have a great HMO, but thanks,” Firestorm answered, becoming very tired.

“At least let me kiss it and make it better,” an enthusiastic, low feminine voice offered.

Before he could react, a very shapely young woman in her twenties wrapped her arms around him and kissed him solidly on the lips. She had waves of red curls cascading down from her head, and the ampleness of her figure pressed against him. Not returning the embrace, he looked to the Representative for help.

“Lorraine,” Reilly called angrily, “cameras are on us, for pity’s sake, and can’t you see that the man is exhausted?”

“Oh, right,” she said, reluctantly disengaging and flashing her big brown eyes at him. “Sorry, but he saved my life today, too.”

“No problem, pleased to meet you,” Firestorm said, instantly kicking himself mentally.

As he launched into the air, the now larger crowd cheered. >>Certainly a proper ending for a day like today,<< Stein said wistfully.

-END-

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Murdermek