Battleforce #1

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Battleforce #1
Futures in Shadows

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

The throne room was huge and filled with treasure, except the treasure consisted of electronics the like of which even the US Government had never seen. The king sat upon his throne, which looked more like the cockpit of an advanced vehicle than a place to rule. Dark hair uncombed, skin pale from staying indoors too often, limbs lacking in definition and with some pudge to them, he would be called a wimp, a pushover, or a nerd out in the real world, but this man is the Machine Maker. In his quest for cutting edge technology, he has caused more death than any serial killer. You see, he likes to own new tech, but he likes to be the sole owner as well. Once he masters a technology, he often kills the inventor.

“Blaster has been arrested,” Machine Maker states, turning toward his assistant, Julianne Jackson, codenamed Computron. Julianne is a pretty young woman, tan haired, blue eyed, and very shy. Some doubted Computron actually had paranormal abilities, but the way she understood how computers work, the speed in which she could enter data, and how fast her own mind worked indicated she was not entirely ‘normal’, either. “Computron, summon the team and monitor any new airline arrangements of our enemies,” Maker finished.

Computron did not look up or turn her head from the screen she stared at. “Maker, the Vortex Commander is already en route to Blaster’s location.”

“Then the others won’t be far behind,” Machine Maker replied.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

A large house at the edge of a wood, twenty miles outside of the nearest city: Scott Deyoung, an average sized Caucasian male with neat brown hair and a slightly overweight frame, is preparing a Denver-style omelette for his breakfast as he ponders what to do with himself today. Being semi-retired at 34 and having patent rights feeding his banking accounts he had a lot of options.

“The bill is not expected to pass Congress,” the TV news anchor said. “There may be an increase in hurricane activity this year along the Florida coast. In other news, Robert Dubb, known as Blaster of the Techno-Warriors, was arrested last night.”

Scott’s head pops up, his eyes wide as the story continues, “A special task force of FBI and local authorities headed by the crime fighter, Ace, tracked Dubb by helicopter and brought him in.”

Finally, we might be able to predict Machine Maker’s movements, Scott thought, turning off the stove and running through his home to a rather large laboratory. With a push of a button, a panel slides open. Behind the panel stands the remains of the Black Knight robot. Pieces are missing, and the hulk would not stand without the metal supports holding it up.

“It’s time for revenge,” Deyoung whispers.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

A door opens to a shadowy room. Ace steps into the chamber and regards Robert Dubb in the holding cell. Dubb turns to look at him, grins, and says, “I knew you’d pay me a visit.”

“Really,” Ace responded through the barred window of the cell door.

“We’re a lot alike, Ace,” Dubb said, scratching his unshaved face and dishevelled brown hair. “Two sides of the same coin. We’re both professionals so highly skilled that the world’s rules don’t apply to us.”

“Don’t apply?” Ace asked incredulously. “The rules always apply.”

Dubb waggles his finger at his adversary saying, “Be for real, man! Anyone else does what you do, they get arrested. You get official sanction and a government stipend.”

“What about you?” Ace countered, leaning in. “Your skill could be as useful to our side as Machine Maker. If money is what you wanted...”

“They had their chance,” Dubb interrupted. “As an inventor, marksman, or competitor, I’m the best. Your side didn’t appreciate that, just wanted me to design weapons. Maker focused my skill and gave me purpose.”

“But is the purpose worthwhile, Robert?”

“It is to me,” Dubb replied. “Even now, it just thrills me to know that you, when you were Gunn, used at least two weapons that I designed. Even if I go to jail for the rest of my life, I will be remembered. I’ve made a real impact.”

Ace and Dubb stared at each other, Robert with an intense expression and Ace as expressionless as ever. The entry door opened and a man’s head poked in. “Ace, the Vortex Commander has arrived and wants to speak to you.” Ace turned to go.

“Could you bring me a book,” Dubb called. Robert laughed as Ace exited the room.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Ace followed the plain-clothed agent into a central processing area. It is a busy place, with agents at computers, typing documents, taking calls, and examining leads. Three men in business suits step up to Ace.

“Dennis Richter,” Ace said, “it has been quite some time.”

“Indeed. Nice job on True Investigations, but I wish you would have cleared that interview with the government first,” Richter replied. He was rather tall, almost 6' 4", with a strong build, a slim muscular frame, and dark brown hair in a military ‘high and tight’ topped his head.

“I carefully researched what is still considered classified, Mr. Richter,” Ace explained. “I only revealed details about things already part of the public record. Is Justice available?”

“He’s here,” Richter answered. “He doesn’t want to be seen yet.”

“I’m sure Machine Maker already knows he is here.”

“Maybe,” Richter told Ace, “but Justice is a popular figure. He doesn’t want the entire city to know.” Richter turned to one of the agents with him. “Ace and I want a secure room so we can speak in private.”

The door to the small questioning room closed behind them, and Ace and Agent Richter began to laugh. Richter leans against the wall, relaxing. “Mr. Richter,” he exclaims, “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we?”

Ace popped his nose-cone open and flipped his visor up, revealing the dark-skinned face of Dale Morgan. “Heh,” Ace began, “what am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, Justice! It’s been a long time since you called yourself Striker and we fought together in Battleforce!’”

“Either way, congratulations,” Dennis offered. “Apprehending Blaster during the premier of your interview is incredible publicity. Could make you a celebrity.”

“You know that’s not what I’m after,” Ace said. “Do you think Maker will bite?”

“Maker will bite. By capturing his weapon designer, we’ve challenged him, and Dubb is not as expendable as Jack Teo, the first Blaster. The trick is predicting what Maker will try. He knows about our pact, and he’ll want to avoid direct conflict.”

“Have you called the others?” Ace asked.

“Not yet. I consider Molecule and Shield your contacts.”

“Then let’s get started,” Ace said, lifting a mobile phone and punching a number. He paused, and then said, “Yes, may I speak to Erin Xiang, please?”

“Speaking,” came the feminine voice on the line.

“Erin, this is Ace. Have you seen the news?”

“No.”

“We have Blaster in custody and expect the Techno-Warriors to attempt a breakout. Are you available?” For a moment, there was no response. “Erin?”

“I’ll make myself available. Where do I need to go?”

Moments later, Ace lowered the phone. “One down,” Richter stated. “I’ll call Electroknight next.”

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Erin Xiang placed her mobile phone on the counter, deep in thought. The Asian-American stood 6' tall with a fit body. Her jet black hair fell to her shoulders and her dark brown eyes could bore holes in a person if she were cross. She had agreed to help against the Techno-Warriors almost a year ago, but deep down, she didn’t want to face them. They had operated for years before she had even gained her abilities.

She remembers in flashes, images as vivid as the day the events occurred. She was a 25 year old college student working as an assistant in a chemical lab. Four Techno-Warriors burst in, and overzealous security started a firefight. Erin awoke in a hospital bed, learning that between bullets, energy blasts, chemicals, and electricity, eighteen people had died. Four survivors, one a Techno named Laserbow, were altered. The news media were told that no one survived, and for months, US government scientists tested her abilities. She learned how to become desolid, escaped the facility, and immediately hired a high profile law firm. They fought for a year, but eventually, evidence that the government held paranormals captive surfaced and the United States settled the suit, paying Erin and releasing Theodore Lynn, a security guard at the chemical company.

Now, I call myself Molecule, she thought. With a slight mental push, her clothing changed to a skin tight, red lycra body-suit with blue boots, armbands, and a big, blue ‘M’ on her chest. As tall as she stood, she looked like a woman’s wrestler. “Might as well get moving,” she states aloud, floating upward and phasing through the outer wall of her apartment.

Outside the building, a severe concussive force hits Molecule, driving her into the stone wall.

“Sorry, Molecule,” her assailant stated, “there will be an unexpected delay in your rendezvous plan.”

“Magari,” Molecule grunted from her new position, sitting on the sidewalk against the wall.

Magari floated above the street glaring at Molecule. She wasn’t as tall as Erin, but she was fit and strong, obviously well-versed in weight-training. She wore a full body suit which only revealed her head and hands, in the maroon and steel-grey colors of the Techno-Warriors. Oversized, futuristic boots and belt adorned her, a domed helmet with a white, vaguely skull-shaped symbol on the face sat on her head obscuring her eyes, and a long maroon cape flowed from her shoulders. The nuclear warning sign on her chest signified how dangerous she could be. Magari killed without remorse.

She was waiting for me, Molecule thought. With another push of willpower, she faded from sight.

“Oh, no! She has become invisible,” Magari shouted, looking around nervously while clicking on a multi-spectrum scanner in her helmet. As Molecule moved in from the right, eyes glowing a florescent green, Magari turned and blasted her again with what in essence was a localized, force field punch. The silvery blue orb slammed into Molecule’s chest, throwing her across the street. Below Magari, traffic stalled as drivers rubbernecked trying to see what the commotion was about.

She can see me, Molecule thought. Better go unsolid. She phased out of solidity and back into sight even as Magari fired again, the force bubble passing harmlessly through Erin’s body. Molecule swooped around, eyes glowing again. Prepared, Molecule phased solid.

They shot at the same time, Magari with her force attack and Molecule with two luminous green eyebeams. Magari’s PFG (Personal Field Projector) softened the beams, but she could feel the pain of the cellular disruption Molecule’s attack caused. Molecule slammed again into a brick wall, this time a retaining wall blocking access to an alley between buildings.

“Second time we’ve fought,” Magari sneered. “Second time I’ve beaten you.” Magari fires again, Molecule’s body rocking with the concussive force, the brick wall collapsing on top of her. “Maker, this is Magari. Target is down. I’m heading home.” Magari flew away.

Behind her, Molecule’s arm, visible in the pile of bricks, phased and withdrew into the pile.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Somewhere in Maine

A stately, middle aged gentleman of English descent stood on the steps of his rather large mansion. His name is Desmond Manchester. It is a big day for him. Shawnee Manchester, his daughter, is moving away.

“That is everything, Father,” she calls up to him. “I’m ready.” She was kind of small, standing 5' 4" tall and somewhat thin. Her light brown skin and unique facial features defied recognition of her race- Hispanic, Asian, Islander, Native American, her descent could have been anything. Her short, light brown hair and equally light brown skin wouldn’t give someone pause, but her crystal blue eyes gave her presence that her smallish frame couldn’t provide. Desmond stepped down toward her.

“I will certainly miss you, Shawnee,” he told her in a rough, ‘been through a lot in life’ kind of voice. “You have your Degree, and there is little more I can teach you about the mystic arts.”

She smiled as he reached her. “I’ll miss you, too, but I’m looking forward to this. Whether magecraft or academics, I’ve trained full time for nine years. Time to put it all to use.”

“Remember,” Desmond said sternly, “your connection to the natural forces of Earth is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. It is your decision how to master and use your gifts.”

“Always the teacher,” she chuckled, embracing him. With a final, “Goodbye,” she started the mid-size car and drove off.

“You haven’t told her everything, have you?” the little green imp next to Desmond said.

“No. I’m worried what her anticipation of the future would hurt our chance of success.” Desmond looked down at the 3' tall creature that had appeared. “That is a very interesting form for you.”

“My subject will accept this form more easily,” it replied.

“Then you should go, my friend. No reason for delay.”

“Saying goodbye is always hard, isn’t it,” the imp said. With no sound or pyrotechnics to mark his departure, the little man vanished.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

“Thanks for shopping. See you in two weeks,” Michael Richardson said, closing the register as his customer left the store. At 22, it was surprising that Michael owned his own science-fiction store. Even more amazing, the place was a bit of a success. Honestly, Michael was a big nerd. He didn’t look like one, standing 5' 11" and weighing 180+ lbs., his black curly hair and dark blue eyes not particularly memorable. But he was never a sportsman, spending his time with role-playing games, Star Wars, and Superman. He walked toward his front door thinking, Today is always slow. I need to change my off day to Tuesday. A green, swirling mist materialized behind him. Replacing the unpurchased comics to their rightful places, Mike turned to see the little green man standing behind him.

“Michael Richardson, you are needed,” it chimed in a rough, growling voice.

Michael stared at the creature. Standing just over 3' tall, its face looked like a cross between a garden gnome and one of those ridiculous jewel trolls with the funky hair. Two large pointed ears rose from its head, and a white beard descended to its chest. Green skinned, it wore what appeared to be a shiny, light blue bathrobe with darker blue highlights and black dress shoes. It stared back in silence.

Mike extended his hand as if to say ‘What in the world do you want’. “Okay,” he said, “I’m not drunk, I do not take drugs, I’m not sick or delirious, and the next convention is in two weeks, so... who are you?”

“I am DM,” the little guy croaked.

Michael chuckled. “DM. Dungeonmaster. That is funny. Look, I’m very busy, a customer could...”

“Look at your sign,” DM suggested. Michael glanced over to the front window. The ‘Closed’ sign now faced outward, and the lock was in place on the door. “You respond well to my sudden appearance,” DM finished.

“You could say that my lifestyle is conducive to this sort of thing. We already have super-heroes, so why shouldn’t Yoda the Dungeonmaster visit my shop? Besides, I’m sure I couldn’t escape from someone who appears out of nowhere, so why try? So what can I help you with? The latest issue of Spider-Man? A classic McFarlane back issue? A PVC model of Optimus Prime? I know!” Mike walked over to his locked glass case of collectibles. “How about an original 1981 talking Yoda hand puppet still in its packaging? Very rare and valuable!”

“I’m here for you,” the imp rasped patiently. “There is great evil coming, and a warrior is needed. I have long searched, and I believe you are the warrior I seek.”

“I’m not exactly the warrior type, always thought of myself as a wizard.”

“Your personality and imagination are... conducive to this kind of thing,” DM smirked.

“Sure,” Mike offered, “whatever you say. Now what?”

“Choose your form.”

“I don’t follow.”

DM smiled, looking even more like those awful troll dolls. “Don’t be cautious now, Michael,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “You are very creative. You have developed many fictional characters in hopes of writing comic books. Choose one and you will become your creation.”

“Yeah, right,” Mike scoffed. “How about Perseus?”

“By your command,” DM said to the large, muscular man that now stood before him. Mike suddenly stood 6' 6" tall and weighed nearly 350lbs of solid muscle. He was dressed in a basic ancient Greek style toga with black belt, wrist bands, and boots. Simple garb, but it concealed the power that rippled within. Perseus stood completely stunned. “You’ve dreamed of this, haven’t you?” DM asked. “Becoming a hero?”

“Yes, but it isn’t supposed to be real,” Perseus whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

“That is why you fail.”

That snapped Perseus out of his stupor. “Wise ass,” he chuckled.

“It’s real,” DM told him. “You are Perseus, now, with all of his strengths, weaknesses, advantages, and disadvantages. Care to test yourself?”

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Suddenly, the strange duo stood around the corner from where several police cars pull in, sirens blaring. Bank robbers with bulletproof armor and high-powered, semi-automatic rifles move toward their escape vehicle. “These officers are completely outgunned,“ DM stated softly. “Someone will likely die here tonight. Do not hesitate... Perseus.”

“Drop your weapons and lay down on your stomach,” a cop shouted with authority, as if he believed the criminals would.

“Up yours,” a robber yells back, raising his rifle.

As two of the three robbers fire at the police, Perseus stood before them, surprised that his character’s near invulnerability to physical harm worked. Not only did he barely feel the shots, the fact that his body was not rock hard eliminated ricochets.

“Go,” one robber shouts, his eyes bugging out. “Now!”

The trio sprint to their vehicle, piling in. Perseus turned toward the police, who stared at him in surprise. “I’ll stop them,” he said. “Their bullets can’t hurt me.”

“Hurry, before they get moving,” one officer replied. “We’ll cover you.”

In the automobile, the driver fumbled with the ignition key. His comrade in the passenger seat stuttered, “He didn’t have any armor on, man.” As the car started, the driver said, “He can’t catch us.”

The driver screamed, the passenger shouted an obscenity, and the robber in the back seat wet himself as Perseus ripped the top off of the car, reached in, and tore out the steering wheel. The passenger reached for his rifle, Perseus destroyed that, too. Moments later, the trio lay on their stomachs, their hands cuffed behind their backs.

“All yours, Officer,” Perseus said. “I didn’t even touch them.”

“I hope that car wasn’t stolen,” a young officer said, scratching his head.

Perseus returned to where he and DM had appeared, only to find the gnome gone. Now what do I do? he wondered.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Vortex Ops

Agent Dennis Richter and Ace are together as another agent calls out, “Agent Richter, we just received a report that Molecule is at the Raines Medical Center. Magari assaulted her.”

His face obscured by the helmet, Ace’s body language spoke volumes about his anger at the news. “I don’t...” he began and hesitated.

“Machine Maker must be trying to eliminate some of them before you band together,” Richter surmised. “I didn’t expect him to single the others out, and Starfall may not make it in time.”

“May not make it?” Ace echoed questioningly.

“She’s tied up with an industrial disaster down in the Gulf of Mexico. That leaves us Electroknight and Shield.”

“Even with Blaster in a cell, I don’t know if four of us will be enough,” Ace responded.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Chicago, an older industrial district. A man with a determined expression stands with a group of armed masked men. The gentleman, in his mid-30's with blonde hair and a quick smile, tells the others, “All right. Let us go.”

The men swiftly invade a smallish, old manufacturing place off the main road. Inside, about 30 employees work. The armed men quickly secure the structure and the man in the suit strides in confidently.

“Everyone move slowly over to the North wall,” a gunman shouts.

“What is the meaning of this?” a chubby, middle-aged man in a white smock asked.

“I am Doctor Wilson Corbis,” the businessman replied, “the leading expert on the Tri-Molecule effect. I need some new workspace.”

“Tri-Molecule research is a federal crime,” the chubby technician said.

“So is armed kidnapping,” Corbis replied with a smile.

“It won’t be long before the police arrive,” the tech added.

“Are you trying to scare me away?” Corbis guffawed. “Won’t happen. I’ve done my homework, dear fellow. This place itself operates just beyond the realm of legality. Most of the employees here have warrants out on them, and few have a spouse or children. Some of you don’t even have the proper degree or other credentials for the work you are doing, which I believe is trying to develop a cheap to make street drug.” Corbis smiled again, saying, “I have all the time I need.”

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

LAX- A 727 taxis down the runway heading for the East Coast. Mahesh Lengvari, ‘Matt’ for the sake of convenience, settles in for the flight. Black hair and darker skin denotes his Middle Eastern heritage, square face and small ears defining him further. Despite his Federal Special Agent status, he spent two hours at airport security as they verified his identity. Now, he hopes to catch a long nap. Glancing out the window, he sees a brilliant green star zoom towards the plane. Withing the corona, a man flies.

Starburst, Mahesh thinks.

Blazing, Starburst fires a bolt of pure energy at the plane’s tail. Immediately the pilot aborts takeoff. Mahesh opens the passenger door, with Starburst awaiting him outside.

“I believe we have business to attend to, Electroknight,” Starburst calls.

“You endangered the entire plane, monster,” he spat angrily.

“I could have waited until takeoff and brought the plane down, Matt,” Starburst bragged. “You’re the only one I want to hurt!”

Suddenly ablaze with electricity, Electroknight launched into the air, Starburst flying ahead of him. Their battle lit up the airport as they trade ranged attacks, neither one really catching the other. Starburst dove under a stationary 747 with Mahesh following. Momentarily out of Electroknight’s vision, Starburst ceased propulsion, somersaulted in mid-air, and re-ignited his corona. Electroknight appeared and Starburst blasted him full on with green energy. Starburst then rammed into the hero, accelerating and slamming him into the tail of another 747. Stunned, Electroknight fell to the tarmac as Starburst charged up.

“I have years more experience that you, Electroknight,” Starburst shouted, his corona blazing. “Das Vidanya!”

Starburst blasted Electroknight into the tarmac, the energy burning and melting the tar below. Starburst rocketed away, leaving Mahesh unconscious and bleeding on the broken runway.

To be continued...