SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2409 10:30 AM INTERNATIONAL POLICE HEADQUARTERS NEW AVALON, ZETA CYGNI The International Police headquarters building in downtown New Avalon is a relatively modest structure by the standards of that soaring city. It occupies about half of a block and stands a mere forty stories tall. Those forty stories contain the administrative offices that make the colossal organization work, as well as office space for the local Tactical Division and Criminal Investigations Division branch offices, a Psionics Division operations office, and the central command liaison of the Space Force. Unknown to most of the people who pass by it on the sidewalk on an average day, the forty-story tower is only the tip of the International Police iceberg. The building's basements stretch into an underground complex with fully three times the floor space of the building's aboveground portion. Down there, a person can find all the things that the IPO's management deemed necessary for a headquarters but too sensitive or dangerous to have above the surface: the high-energy research labs, weapons shops, firing ranges, and Danger Rooms, as well as the motor pool, the generators, the stargate room, and so forth. The underground complex also contains several dojo, which differ from Danger Rooms in that they lack simulation equipment and are merely large rooms in which to train. There are a few types of dojo at IPO HQ, rated by durability. They range from the standard Class 5 facilities in the upper levels down to the sole Class 1 facility in New Avalon, which occupies - more correctly, which IS - the lowest level of the headquarters complex. This room is little more than eight cubic stadia of empty space, carved out of the synthetic basalt bedrock of the Avalon pseudocontinent, its ceiling covered with glowstrips for illumination. Atmosphere processors freshen the air through carefully engineered ducts. There are no doors to cause weak spots in the walls; access is by transporter. This is where the Experts of Justice, the IPO's top-echelon super-agents, come to fight when they don't want to worry about breaking anything fragile, like the city. The room, which is known among IPO insiders by the poetic name "the Hole", is also equipped with numerous small holographic recording pickups, with which the IPO makes records of the best of the battles for later study and training use. These pickups are also used by HQ staffers looking for a diversion from their jobs, when somebody worth watching is fighting. On this particular day, not much work at all was getting done in the building. Almost everyone there was glued to a window on his or her dataterminal, watching the combat taking place in the Hole. It was always worth tuning in when Cain Marko, the unstoppable Juggernaut, was doing battle, but today, many of the HQ staffers had another reason to tune in: Marko was fighting not another Expert, but one of the Chief's young up-and-comers in Special Assignment 7. Despite the fact that she was much, much smaller than Marko, Paige Guthrie was just about as strong and just about as tough - and about 60% of the members of the headquarters staff considered her much easier to look at, too. Blonde, lithe, and acrobatic, she was a favorite with the building's dedicated subculture of fight fans - and seeing her go up against the Juggernaut was like watching Bruce Lee take on a Mack truck. What most of them didn't know, as they watched her dart and duck and await her openings, using her superior mobility to its best advantage, was that Paige had only had her strength and durability for a little more than 18 months, and was still learning their limits. Every match against Cain, or Thor Ironhammer, or Mr. Fujisawa, or one of the other true titans of the IPO, was as much an exercise in exploring her power as it was a honing of her actual fighting skills. An hour later, Cain Marko emerged from the men's locker room on Sublevel 4, his enormous frame draped in jeans and a "Never Mind the Sex Pistols Here's the Art of Noise" T-shirt. (He could always get Art of Noise shirts that fit; the band had a Hoffmanite bass player.) He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a windbreaker tucked through the strap as he walked through the corridors of the sublevel, exchanging cheery greetings with various random agents and techs as they passed him. Being accepted as part of a large group was still kind of a new experience for Cain. He entered the lounge near the elevators to find Paige, also casually dressed in sweats and tank top with her jacket sleeves knotted around her waist, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs. She was gazing pensively at a painting of an unfamiliar city skyline which hung on the wall between two of the elevators. "Hey," he said, and Paige looked up. "Hey," she replied, a trifle listlessly. She got up, picked up her own gym bag, and they boarded an elevator. They rode to ground level in silence. It wasn't until they were walking across the lobby concourse, a brightly lit, cheerful expanse whose gleaming Art Deco decor made some first-time visitors wonder if they'd mistakenly entered the Hotel Monolith, that Cain spoke. "What's the matter with you, munchkin?" he asked, his big, rough voice touched with real concern. "You look down." Paige seemed to come back from a long way away. "Oh," she said, "no... not really." She sat down on one of the chrome-tube benches ringing the concourse; Marko lowered his bulk next to her and listened as she went on, "I was just thinking... I'm really getting to like... being the way I am. What if my old power comes back? I... I don't think I -want- it." Marko nodded. The thought had crossed his own mind more than once as he'd watched Paige accustom herself to her Kryptonian-like powers, where before she'd possessed a strange automorphic ability that involved peeling off her outer layer of skin. "Well, I'll tell ya," he said after a moment's consideration. "If that happens, what we'll do is, we'll go find this universe's Ruby of Cyttorak." The thought of this, the mystic gem which had turned Marko into the tower of power he was today, made Paige give him an odd look; then, envisioning herself as a Juggernaut, she cracked up giggling, her gloomy mood destroyed. Marko leaned back on the bench and smiled, for this had been his exact intention. "I still wouldn't be able to fly," Paige observed jokingly as she got up again. "I'll buy ya a jetpack, then," Marko said as he got up and followed her toward the exit. "Jeez, chicks today are so damn -demanding-." "Cain, I'm not your girlfriend," Paige pointed out patiently. "I never said ya was!" Marko protested. "I ain't a moron, y'know," he said, and then added with a sly wink, "I know where your sights're pointed." Paige reddened, glancing around at the lobby full of agents, visitors, and scientists, all bound on their own errands. "Shh! Someone will hear you." Marko shrugged as if he hadn't heard her. "Hey, a girl could do worse. For instance, she could go after that wing'ed wimp Worthington." "You shut up about that, Cain Marko," Paige snapped, her blush deepening as her mostly-eroded West Virginia twang seeped unnoticed back into her voice. "Or," Cain went on as if he hadn't heard her, "she could fall for some self-pitying feeb with no face." Paige stopped short and rounded on him, scowling. "Y'all startin'a really hack me off now. Ah ain't kiddin'." Marko grinned broadly. "Yep. I can always tell, 'cause your accent comes back." Paige went redder still, and didn't trust herself to say anything more. Instead she just glared at him and made an incoherent growling noise. "Aww," said Marko, ruffling her long blonde hair with one giant hand. "You're so cute when you're mad. C'mon, let's get a burger." So saying, he put his windbreaker on, reshouldered his duffel bag, and headed out the door. Paige stared after him for a moment. Then she put her own jacket on with quick, irritated motions before following, muttering under her breath as she went, "(... don't know why I associate with this hyperthyroidal subhuman... not even a mutant, just found a magic ROCK and that makes him an X-Man... )" I have a message from another time... /* Tom Petty "Runnin' Down a Dream" _Full Moon Fever_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited and Bacon Comics Group present UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT LENSMEN TWO-IN-ONE 2003 ANNUAL: "EXCESSIVE FORCE" starring PAIGE GUTHRIE (SPITFIRE) and featuring CAIN MARKO, the Jolly JUGGERNAUT written by Benjamin D. Hutchins drawn by your visual cortex letters by Benjamin D. Hutchins editor: Benjamin D. Hutchins Bacon Comics chief: Derek Bacon from a notion suggested by Geoff Depew (c) 2003 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited By the time they got across Founder Square to the Marche Movenpick on the ground floor of the Entire State Building, Paige had recovered her good humor. She never stayed mad for long when Cain needled her that way, which was why he did it. If it really bothered her, he'd knock it off... probably. Paige and Cain had known each other for several years, had been teammates as X-Men for more than a year before coming here; but only since their displacement to this wonderfully bizarre dimension had they really been friends. Paige wasn't sure exactly why or how that had happened, really. She and Cain had become X-Men at about the same time, under diametrically opposed circumstances: she graduating up from a disbanding training team, Generation X; he suddenly about-facing after years as one of the team's most dangerous and implacable enemies to seek refuge from his inner demons in their ranks. Like all the X-Men, she'd been quite wary of him at first, warming to him only slowly, and even once she'd accepted him as a teammate, they'd never been particularly friendly. Since their displacement, and her transformation, he'd... well, "taken her under his wing" wasn't the right phrase, no. She was a strong-minded, independent young woman who had worked hard for her place among the X-Men, and wasn't likely to take that kind of direction well from someone who'd technically joined after she did. Anyway, Cain wasn't what you'd call a nurturing personality. They'd become friends, though, and non-nurturing or not, he did have a sort of mentor relationship with her. He was a kind of Dutch uncle, occasionally harsh but always frank in his criticism, helping her to maximize her potential - not very demonstrative, not very overtly affectionate, but always there, always ready to listen or offer his few words of advice. They were... they were -buddies-. And if anyone had told Paige Guthrie when she left the farm as a girl of 13 that she would end up being buddies with the Juggernaut, she'd have laughed in his face. They sat at one of the corner tables and talked about her training, recent missions, and things going on in their shared circle of friends while consuming truly colossal hamburgers. The grill at the Marche had, in fact, introduced this particular type of burger specifically for Cain, and named it after him. This was why the chalkboard next to the grill station in the market restaurant read: BURGER cr3.95 STEAK SAND. cr5.95 CHICKEN SAND. cr5.95 SAUSAGE cr5.95 T-BONE cr8.95 FILET cr12.95 JUGGERNAUT cr15.95 (32 oz. prime ground beef, bacon, cheddar cheese, Special Sauce of Cyttorak, red hots on a jumbo Kaiser roll) "So anyway," said Cain, gesturing with his burger, "I says to the guy, 'What's it look like I'm doin'? I'm tryin'a get this DOOR open!'" Then he threw back his head and guffawed, causing some of the restaurant's other patrons to look nervously at the support beams holding up the ceiling. "Cain... that is... absolutely... disGUSting," Paige tried to say, but she didn't do very well with it because she was laughing too hard. Then she stopped laughing suddenly, as though someone had tapped her on the shoulder. Cain, still chuckling, wiped tears from his eyes and took another chomp out of his burger while Paige listened to a silent message. After a few seconds, she nodded. "Will do, Chief," she said aloud. Then she turned to Marko, her eyes sparkling with glee. "That was the Chief," she told him unnecessarily. "He wants me to go home and pack for an overnight - he's got a job for me." Marko grunted. "Guess I don't get to go this time," he said. "No call for me. Wonder who's going to be your field lead this time?" "Maybe he's going to do it himself again," Paige replied, doing a poor job of concealing her excitement. Marko chuckled. "Maybe," he said. "You got time to finish lunch?" Paige glanced at her watch. "Just about," she said. "I'm supposed to be in his office at 1." "Good thing you're almost home, then." Paige nodded, scarfing down the rest of her lunch. Normally she wouldn't do that (and she hated it when Cain did it; occasionally, just to get a rise out of her, he would cram an entire burger down in one go), but at times like this she sometimes cut corners. Within five minutes she was finished and rising from her seat. "You be careful, huh?" said Cain. "I don't want you gettin' hurt out there." Paige smiled. "This from the guy that was bashing my head against a rock wall a little while ago." She scruffled his short red hair and said, "I'll be fine. See you when I get back." Marko raised a hand in farewell as she trotted off to the registers, then watched with a private little smile as she paid and disappeared through the crowds toward the building's elevator lobby. Shaking his head indulgently, the Juggernaut picked up his second namesake burger. A surprising percentage of Marko's pay went for food, especially considering that he didn't need to eat, but the way he figured it, a guy had to do what made him happy. Paige was about half packed when the she heard the door to her apartment open and close. A few moments later, her roommate breezed into her bedroom. "Helloooo," said Jubilation Lee cheerily. Eyeing the open suitcase and her blonde roommate's bustling activity, the Asian girl immediately took on a speculative expression. "Well, well," she said. "Where are -you- headed in such a hurry? And humming that song, to boot," she added, grinning wickedly. "Did the Chief finally invite you up to the lake for a weekend of wild, passionate insubordination?" Paige slammed her suitcase and snapped the thumb locks closed, then scowled over the top of it. "Jubilee, -really-," she said. "I get quite enough of that from Cain." Jubilee took a half-step backward, her eyes going huge. "-Whoa-," she said reverently. "You and the Juggernaut - ?" Paige looked confused. "What?" she said, and then flushed bright red. "NO!" she exclaimed. "That's NOT what I - ohhh, I'm gonna THROW you out that WINDOW, Jubilation Lee!" she exclaimed as Jubilee broke up laughing at the look on her face. Paige went grumpily into the bathroom and started tossing toiletries into a kit bag. "Me and the Juggernaut indeed," she muttered. "Brrrrr." Jubilee appeared in the bathroom door, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Paige," she said, endeavoring to look genuinely contrite through her lingering grin. "Really, I am. It's just so easy to get you going. Especially about the Chief." She leaned against the door frame and said seriously, "Look, why don't you just -ask- him? Everybody in the -building- knows about your 'secret' crush. Except maybe him. He's kind of dumb that way." Paige snorted, not turning to face Jubilee. "Oh, now that just -wouldn't- be proper," she replied. "Hmm... yeah... you're probably right," said Jubilee, looking pensive. "Of course I'm right," Paige replied piously. "You should probably ask his wife first," Jubilee agreed, nodding. Paige threw a tube of toothpaste at her. Ten minutes later, Paige was trying her best not to think about that conversation as she entered the Chief's outer office on the thirty-ninth floor. She'd changed into the outfit she regarded as her uniform, a steel-blue ensemble which had started life as the uniform of a Kryptonian traffic cop from the early 1900s under a frock-tailed, notch-fronted red coat made especially for her by a tailor of that same race. She put her suitcase down next to one of the visitors' chairs, came to attention, and saluted. "Special Agent Paige Guthrie, reporting as ordered," she said crisply. Luornu Durgo, the Chief's yeoman when he was wearing his Space Force admiral's hat and his secretary when he wasn't, smiled indulgently. "Go on in, Paige," she said. She didn't bother telling the young agent not to be so formal; it was just in Paige's nature to do things like that. Indeed, when she entered the inner office, she did exactly the same thing in front of the Chief's desk. The Chief, Benjamin Hutchins, almost universally known as Gryphon, was wearing his Space Force uniform, which meant he'd probably been aboard his flagship, IPS Challenger, when he'd called her by Lens to ask her to this meeting. Challenger was on station at Bajor, many parsecs away, so Paige figured he must have beamed to Babylon 6 and then stargated to headquarters. This, then, must be important. Rather than wave a hand and tell her to stop being so formal, as he might with any other field agent, Gryphon got up and returned her salute. He respected, even admired, the fact that Paige was so doggedly polite and rank-conscious, even if he did wish she'd loosen up a bit. He preferred friends to subordinates, and tried to run as informal a shop as he could and still preserve something like a chain of command; but she wasn't yet comfortable enough to play along, so he humored her. "At ease, Agent," he said, returning to his seat. Paige folded her hands behind her and placed her feet at shoulder width, a perfect parade rest; Gryphon sighed inwardly and accepted that it was as good as he was going to get. Maybe she just doesn't cotton to me, he thought. Too bad if that's the case. "We're expecting someone else," said Gryphon, and he thought for a moment that he saw her face fall slightly, but decided it must have been his imagination. "In the meantime, though, I might as well tell you what we're up against." He moved some papers on his desk to uncover a buried holoprojector, pressed a couple of buttons, and rezzed up an image of a planet. "This is Zeltos IV, in the Rigel sector," he said. "It's a Salusian colony, population about 1 billion, mostly Salusian with a good-sized human minority and a scattering of others. Its economy is mostly based on information, like a lot of Inner Sector worlds today. Computer companies, data vaults, actuarial firms... that kind of thing. Pretty boring place, really - which is why what's going on there now is both interesting and ominous." Gryphon tapped a couple of keys, and around the image of the planet appeared a strange, coruscating green field. For a second, Paige took it for a diagram of the planet's magnetosphere, but then realized that it had not two poles, but, weirdly, -seven-, one of them much larger and more concentrated than the others. "What the... ?" she said. Gryphon nodded. "That's what the Royal Salusian Science Corps office on Zeltos said when they installed some new measuring equipment on Monday and saw this. Know what it is?" "Some kind of global energy field, but I've never seen one like that," Paige said, though as she answered, she could feel something nagging at the back of her head, something she'd read somewhere, wanting to link up to this sight but not quite making it. "It is indeed an energy field. The reason you've never seen one is because only one planet in this universe -has- one... or at least, that's what we thought. Ever heard of Getter rays?" A-ha! thought Paige, that's what I was trying to remember. "A type of cosmic energy discovered by the Corellians on one of their colonies," she replied positively. "Powerful, but very unstable and potentially mutagenic in some forms." She frowned thoughtfully, tapping at her chin. "Seems to me they blew up that colony with it." "They did indeed, Agent," said a voice from the doorway. Paige turned to see a man entering the office. A bit below average height and thin, he had medium-brown hair and wore glasses and crumpled dress clothes under a classic lab coat, complete with a plastic ID badge clipped to the pocket. "Ah, Bruce," said Gryphon, rising. "Just in time. I want you to meet your field officer for this mission. Bruce, this is Special Agent Paige Guthrie, code name Spitfire. Paige, meet Dr. Robert Bruce Banner." Banner smiled in a friendly way and extended a hand. A green gem glinted on the back of his wrist. As she took his hand, Paige was impressed; it was unusual (though not unheard of) for scientists and techs to become Lensmen. He must be something quite special in his field, she thought. "Please to meet you, Doctor," said Paige. The scientist's handshake was a little weak, but not offensively so. He had soft hands, hands that were obviously accustomed to making fine adjustments to delicate instruments and leaving the heavy lifting to those more suited to it. "Likewise," he said, nodding. "Bruce is the Research Division's authority on Getter rays," Gryphon explained, "and he has a theory about this field formation. Bruce?" Banner nodded. "Thank you, Chief. Now, as you see, this field construct has seven nodes, this one bigger than the others," he said, pointing. "This isn't a natural phenomenon. It's my belief that these six," he went on, indicating the smaller nodes, "are ray collectors, drawing in the planet's ambient Getter rays and collecting them from the local cosmos as well, and then passing them on to this central collector." He pointed to the bigger node again. "So that means... " Paige said, and Banner nodded. "I think this is an attempt to build a global-scale Getter amplifier, like the one that nearly destroyed Ragol." Paige frowned. "That's crazy," she said. "Not the theory," she hastened to add, "but that someone would DO that. For one thing, isn't it illegal?" "It is," Banner said, "and for good reason. Conventional Getter technology can't be made stable above a certain scale - about the size that powers Ragolian weapons and light vehicles. Even the Ragolians use fusion for their larger vehicles, starships, and city power." The scientist nodded to Gryphon. "The Chief's eldest son has done some very interesting work with an extradimensional mineral which can generate and stabilize -much- more powerful Getter reactions, but that's as much -magic- as technology, and he's the only one who has the faintest idea how it works," he admitted with a slightly rueful smile. "By the field variations," he went on, indicating some fluctuating patterns in the Getter field diagram, "I'm confident that this is a conventional mass-scale Getter reactor... and that means it's going to explode, and soon." Paige looked at the diagram and shook her head. "The people who built it must know that," she said. "I expect so, yes," said Banner. "So it's not a scientific experiment... " she mused, her frown deepening. She looked past the hologram at the Chief, who nodded gravely. "Based on Dr. Banner's evaluation," he said, "the Salusian Ministry of Defense has classified this as the biggest single act of terrorism ever attempted." "The Ragol blast not only destroyed most of the original colony city," Banner filled in, "it also radically mutated the planet's entire biosphere. All the fauna and some of the flora became bigger, more powerful, and much, much more aggressive. It's a common characteristic of the mutations induced by that particular kind of Getter-ray exposure. In most cases it doesn't affect humans directly." "What about Salusians?" "No one knows. The Salusians have never developed Getter technology. So," he said, adjusting his glasses, "it's possible that this MAY be an experiment - just a particularly twisted, ruthless one." Paige's fists clenched at her sides. "Either way, it's got to be stopped," she said. Gryphon smiled. "Which is exactly why you're here. As Bruce said, the Salusians have never developed Getter technology. Their authorities have no idea how to shut down a Getter reactor safely - so Bruce will do that, after you've secured the site for him." Paige blinked. After -I-... ? "Dr. Banner has more first-hand experience with Getter rays and the equipment that manipulates them than anyone else in the IPO," Gryphon went on. "You won't find anybody who knows them better anywhere but Ragol - but he's not a field agent, so your job will be to look out for him. You're the lead agent on this operation. Can I trust you?" For a second, looking back at him through the pulsing green wireframe of Zeltos IV, Paige looked like she might actually drop her accustomed formality, so startled and pleased was she by the announcement that she was to be lead agent for the mission. Then, to Gryphon's disappointment, she caught herself, came to attention, and saluted. "Absolutely, sir," she said. "I won't let you down." Gryphon suppressed a sigh - she'd take it the wrong way - and instead returned her salute again. "Better get moving, then. Our best estimates give this thing 24 hours before it goes sky-high." ZAMORA, CAPITAL CITY OF ZELTOS IV 10:40 PM LOCAL TIME (1:40 PM NEW AVALON TIME) Because of the time-critical nature of the mission, Paige and Banner arrived at Zeltos IV by jumpship, and the ship was given priority landing clearance at Zamora. They were barely ten minutes from the Chief's office to the tarmac - not long enough to get acquainted, let alone prepare any sort of plan of action. Banner spent most of the short ride apparently lost in thought, probably considering what he would do once Paige got him to the theorized runaway reactor. Paige, for her part, was considering what she might come up against getting him to the reactor in the first place. They didn't even know who was -doing- this; the mission was such a rush job that no solid intel was available. As she and Banner had headed for the headquarters transporter center, to be beamed direct to their ship at New Avalon International, the Chief had reached her by Lens to say that the Salusian authorities might have some more information for her when she got to Zamora. She was hoping that was the case as she descended the ramp and got her bearings. Zamora's was a spaceport like any other, not very interesting nor at all unique, but the man waiting for her - he was certainly both. He was a tall, burly, grizzled man with brown hair going white at the temples and a gleaming black optic plate covering his left eye socket. White-furred Salusian primary ears jutted through the hair at the top of his head. He wore a close-fitting black uniform with a lot of straps, buckles, and equipment pouches, he had a cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth, and he didn't look happy. "You Guthrie?" he rasped. "Yessir," Paige replied, saluting. "Special Agent Paige Guthrie, IPO. Code name Spitfire." The Salusian rolled his eye. "Cripes," he growled, as if to himself. "I thought you IPO people were supposed to be informal," he said to Paige, "but you salute like a Marine." He gave her a suspicious look. "You ain't a Marine, are ya, kid?" Paige looked a trifle apprehensive. "Ah... no, sir." He held the suspicious look for a second, then nodded as if satisfied. "Good," he said. "If there's anything I hate it's a jarhead." He stuck out a hand and pumped hers, firmly, once. "Nik Furij, Howlin' Brigade. C'mon inside and I'll show ya what we've got." Furij ran a good, compact briefing. For all that he was obviously annoyed at having been ordered by his queen to keep back until the IPO had secured the Getter equipment, he was a good soldier and understood the reasons behind the order. He gave Paige and Banner all the information he and his people had developed since their own arrival on Zeltos IV the previous day. It wasn't much. A few locations, some unpromising traces on equipment and material purchases, a few individual suspects. Salusian Intelligence didn't have much idea what organization might be behind it - and everyone agreed there must be an organization behind it. Random crazies, it was agreed, couldn't manage this kind of thing. It required too much specialized technical knowledge, too much heavy research, too much coordinated effort, and too much money. They did, however, have a preliminary survey of the building in Zamora where the Getter-ray concentration was at its peak. It was a dilapidated factory on the outskirts of town. Once, toasters were made there, but that was a long time ago. Since then, the building had housed a number of small, unprofitable industries, then had stood vacant for years. The place's current tenant was on the corporate register as "BCJ Enterprises, electronics manufacture," but no one was seen to enter or leave. Energy scans of the building indicated a number of signatures consistent with the power sources of combat droids, but no life forms, and a tremendous level of Getter radiation in the basement. So Paige started on the roof. She dropped silently out of the night sky, landing on the flat top of the building with a slight scrape of bootsoles on asphalt, and headed for the door. Bruce Banner waited on the sidewalk across the street from the loading dock. He was a patient man, and despite his surroundings and the fact that this was a bad time of night to be in a place like this, he was perfectly calm. One of the things Banner's associates tended to notice about him was that he was, by nature, a very calm man. Not much seemed to ruffle him. Of course, he worked with Getter rays, which were sensitive to human emotional wavelengths, so remaining calm was important to his profession. He was just starting to wonder how much longer Paige was going to take when the warehouse's chained, reinforced steel loading door burst from its tracks and crashed into the street, and there she stood. Smiling to himself, Banner went into the building and followed her to the basement, past the tangled wreckage of commercial security droids that looked as though they'd been worked over by a Destroid. /* Toshihiko Sabashi "Weep For" _Big-O: Original Sound Score_ */ They found it in the basement, right where Furij's scans had said it would be: a huge, bizarre, unearthly-looking contraption whose parts and purpose Paige could only have guessed at had she not already known what it was for. Banner whistled softly. "My, my," he said. "This isn't what I expected." "How so?" Paige asked, eyeing the pulsing, humming, green-glowing machine a little nervously. "Well, it's much more sophisticated than I would have expected," Banner replied as he surveyed what looked like the control console. "The coil condensers and barrier elements are exquisitely fabricated, and the design itself is quite advanced - in some ways revolutionary. This reactor must be... oh... I'd say 15% more efficient than the one in my own lab. At this size, that's quite an achievement." He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Of course, it'll still explode. That's what it was built to do." He removed a screwdriver from his pocket and took the faceplate off the control console, then started poking around behind it. The hum and pulse of the generator got louder and brighter. Paige's fists involuntarily tightened at her sides. She wondered, if the thing went off, whether she could grab hold of Banner and escape vertically before at least one of them was vaporized. Banner glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes blanked completely out by the reflection of the visible radiation bleed on his glasses. "Oh, Agent Guthrie," he said in a calm, offhanded way. "There is one thing you could do for me." "What's that, Dr. Banner?" Paige asked. "Getter rays respond to human emotions," Banner pointed out, "so please... try to stay as calm as possible." Paige swallowed. "Yessir," she said, and concentrated very hard on thinking about good, calm, pleasing things. Like what she was going to do when they were off this planet and away from anything to do with Getter rays. Banner worked for about twenty minutes, during which time the humming and pulsing got steadily louder and brighter. Then, as he made a final disconnection inside the console, it all just... stopped. The glow faded; the hum died down to almost nothing. Except for a very faint green light remaining around the things Banner had said were coil condensers, the generator went dark. "There," he said, pocketing the screwdriver. "That's taken care of that. Paige blinked. "That's it? We're done?" "Well, no, we're not done," Banner replied thoughtfully. "There are six subcollectors scattered around the planet. By themselves they're not enough to cause a Ragol-style event, but if they continue collecting Getter rays and overload, they'll be more than sufficient to destroy their immediate vicinities. If they're in populated areas, many people could still die." "Then our work is just starting," Paige said thoughtfully. "Well, all right. Let's go see if Colonel Furij knows where the subcollectors are." Furij did indeed, and the transport assets necessary to get the IPO agents to them quickly, as well. They took them in geographic order, making a rough circle around Zeltos IV by beaming up to and back down from the Howling Brigade's transport, the Royal Salusian heavy cruiser Valentina. The first two were easy, as easy as the main reactor site had been. There was the same quick briefing with Furij and his intel officers, the same fast site survey. All the sites were about the same - warehouses, disused factories, and the like, all in urban areas but all in places that were lightly traveled. As each was cleared, a detachment of Howlers would move in and secure it. The entry-and-secure ran the same both time, and the subcollectors were easier and quicker for Banner to shut down than the main reactor had been. By the third time, Paige felt like the job had taken on a kind of rhythm. Enter, destroy the security droids, make sure the place is clear, go get Banner, try to stay calm... She was leading the way to the third subcollector, in the basement of an abandoned office building - a seedy place in a low-rent part of town, the sort of place that had once housed detective agencies and "import/export" firms - when everything suddenly went all wrong. Paige caught movement out of the corner of her eye as they approached the stairwell - a door that hadn't been there before - what in the - A flash of light, a searing pain inside her head, and silence. Robert Bruce Banner didn't see it coming. His senses weren't as acute as Paige's, nor his reactions as fast, and he'd been laid low by the blast of a neural disruptor before he knew one was being fired at him. He swam up through darkness toward a sort of semiconsciousness to the sounds of people speaking. "... one of Gryphon's young upstarts." "The arrogance of that man! He sends -children- and pencil-necked -scientists- against us." Banner felt a hand on his arm, lifting his limp hand. He struggled to pull himself together, to send a mental command to the Lens clasped around that wrist, but his brain was still scattered and the thought wouldn't come. "The pencil-necked scientist is a Lensman too," the first voice pointed out. The second voice chuckled. "Not for much longer." Something cool and thin touched Banner's arm, just above the band of his Lens. The part of his mind which was working filled with panic; he felt his heart begin to pound, and the adrenaline surge brought him rapidly to consciousness as he desperately tried to ram through that mental message. Too late. Emil Blonsky watched with satisfaction as his subordinate brought the fire axe down. The bands of Lensmen's Lenses couldn't be removed except by their owners, but a Lensman's flesh was, for the most part, still mortal flesh. It was the weak point in the retention system, so to speak. At least in most cases. The men in squad two were said to be having trouble with their subject. Warned by their security droids' dying broadcasts of her incredible strength, they'd had the foresight to bring along the inertron shackles provided in the event of an Expert of Justice appearing, but they'd also destroyed a circular saw blade in an unsuccessful attempt at removing her Lens. For a little slip of a girl, she was apparently pretty damn tough. Not so this scrawny fool. His hand came away without a hitch, chopped off just like the end of a sausage, and his Lens made a musical 'ting!' as it hit the floor. Robert Bruce Banner screamed in agony, his body lunging up from the table as his remaining hand clutched at the stump. His eyes, wide with anguish, searched the room and locked with Blonsky's - - and then turned bright green. Paige awoke with her head throbbing to find herself chained to a wall while several people in dark-red armored suits conferred across the room. On the top of a desk midway across the abandoned office lay what appeared to be a circular saw, except the blade was just a smooth metal disc. She looked down at the floor below her feet (for she was hanging from the ceiling) and saw it littered with small metal triangles. That brought a smile to her lips even as she wondered darkly just what they'd been trying to cut off. She looked up at her bound hands and tried to separate them, but it was no good; she had little enough leverage in this position, and the hardness and lustre of the metal shackles that held her told everything. Who are these guys, she wondered, and where did they get the budget for inertron handcuffs? And how sturdy is the beam they looped this chain over? Just as she began bracing herself to find out, all hell broke loose in the room behind the wall at her back. There was a dull "thud", followed immediately by a high, raw shriek of pain. The shriek did something very odd, though. Instead of trailing off or petering out, it -deepened-. By the time the screamer finally did run out of breath, it had changed from a scream to a -roar-, a bellow more of rage than of pain - and someone ELSE was screaming, this not a sound of pain, but of fear. The sound got the attention of Paige's captors, too; they whirled, looking extremely startled. Before any of them could react, though, something crashed through the flimsy wall just to Paige's left, overturned the desk, and fell atop it in a tangled heap. It was a man, or at least it had been. Now it was more like a suit of that red armor with a broken doll inside it, sprawled in the kneewell of the overturned desk with its limbs at unnatural angles, a splinter-ended length of wood clutched in one hand at the end of a horribly twisted arm. Paige squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head so that when she opened them again, she wasn't looking at that. What she saw instead was a huge green hand thrusting through the opening the flying man had made. It tore the hole wider, and then -something- stepped through. It was shaped like a man, but larger than any man Paige had ever seen, bigger than CAIN, and GREEN, bright emerald GREEN, like Getter rays, like Banner's Lens - Paige sucked in a sharp breath as recognition hit her brain like the hapless red-armored man had hit that desk. The INCREDIBLE HULK! The massive green shape, clad in the ragged remains of a pair of trousers and nothing else, was unmistakable. Paige had never seen him in person, but on the front pages of newspapers and the covers of magazines, images of him had studded her life before her displacement. He was reputed to be a force of nature, an unstoppable creature driven by pure anger. Logan had fought him several times, and the all-but-invincible Canadian felt himself lucky to have come away alive. But... what in the WORLD was he doing HERE? The Hulk stalked into the office as the other men in red backed away in surprise and terror. He raised his huge hands in front of his face, looking at them, teeth gritted. One of them was smaller than the other, almost skeletal-looking. As Paige and the others watched, it -grew-, pulsing as if with the beating of a massive heart, until it matched its mate in size and power. Then the Hulk clenched his fists, lowered them, and glared at the men in red. "Puny humans try to HURT Hulk," he observed, his voice a guttural growl. "Cut off Hulk's HAND!" he roared, raising the fist that had just grown back. "But Hulk is STRONGER. Hulk grow NEW hand! Now Hulk will show puny humans what PAIN IS!" "Fall back! Shoot! SHOOT!" one of the red-armored men screamed. The squad of four did as ordered, falling back and opening fire with weapons Paige recognized as Romulan hand disruptors. Well, that's what hit me, she thought ruefully. Stupid - I walked right into it. Disruptors, the one weapon I -know- I'm vulnerable to... No such vulnerability seemed to trouble the Hulk. He advanced through the fire; the first volley seemed to stagger him slightly, but he shrugged it off and then paid no more attention as they blasted at him. One of his hands snapped out, faster than a creature of his bulk should be able to move, and seized one of the men, his fingers digging into the armor of his chestplate. With an almost contemptuous movement, the Hulk flung this man into the others, bowling them all through the far wall and out into the corridor. Two of them scrambled up and ran; one, the one he'd grabbed, lay still. The fourth struggled to rise, but the Hulk got to him before he could get up, seized him, and hurled him through the far wall. That wall being an exterior wall, he proceeded to plummet to the street. The Hulk stood in the hallway for a moment, looking around, but all his enemies had gone from his sight except the one who wasn't moving any more. Growling, he turned, stalked back into the room, and stood glowering at Paige. Slowly, he moved closer, his face bearing an expression which mixed anger and curiosity in slowly balancing proportions. As he gazed at her from beneath his beetling brow, Paige suddenly realized that something in the proportions of his face, though distorted, looked familiar - and it all fell into place. "Doctor... Doctor Banner?" she whispered. The Hulk drew back, baring his teeth. "How does girl know Banner?" he demanded. Then he thrust his face into hers and roared, "Hulk HATES puny Banner!" "I'm sorry!" Paige replied quickly. "I thought I saw him, but... I was wrong." The Hulk considered this, then backed away again, scowling. "Hmph," he grunted. "Puny humans and puny Banner always -bothering- Hulk." Paige tried a smile. "I won't bother you, Mr. Hulk." To her surprise, the Hulk chuckled softly and smiled a little himself. "'Mr. Hulk,'" he rumbled with satisfaction. "Hulk likes that." Then the green behemoth - who seemed to be getting a bit smaller? - looked puzzled. "But... why is Hulk... so -tired-?" he wondered, and then toppled over, crashing face-first to the floor at Paige's feet. Paige finally got around to doing what she'd planned to do when he appeared, braced her body, and tore the loop of her inertron cuffs free from the ceiling beam it had been looped over. She dropped lightly to the floor, still handcuffed but otherwise free, and bent over the Hulk. As she watched, amazed, he shrank, turned pink... and Bruce Banner lay before her, clad in the tattered remains of his pants. "Well," she mused. "-That's- interesting. The Hulk must be a manifestation of some Getter-induced mutation, and... " She paused to let her train of thought catch up. "... and his energy was drawn off by the collector in the basement, which means... " She blinked. "omigod. Dr. Banner?" She shook the scientist gently by the shoulders, fighting to stay calm so her own agitation wouldn't make the time bomb in the basement tick even faster. "Dr. Banner, wake up!" Banner did good, methodical work for a man dressed only in ragged shorts, who had just recently turned into a raging monster after having a hand chopped off with an axe. He was shaky and weak, but once Paige guided him to the basement, he dismantled the collector's control system double-quick. The machine had been glowing brighter and pulsing faster than any of the others they'd seen, which Banner confirmed was because of the energy it had absorbed from him. When he shut it down, he seemed to get stronger, standing straighter on his own. He was still shaken, though, and he leaned on Paige's shoulder, holding his shorts up with one hand, as she guided him up to the roof for beam-out. "You, ah... want to tell me about it?" Paige asked as they navigated the stairs. "Not much to tell," Banner replied. "I tried to build an improved Getter reactor myself, some years back. Blew up my lab and irradiated myself with more raw Getter rays than any other life form has ever absorbed." Oh, so he's a local equivalent of the Hulk I remember. That's interesting, she thought, but what she said was, "But Getter rays don't mutate humans." "Normally, no. I should have just died... but I didn't. Instead, I became... what you saw. When I get angry, I, I -change-. My Lens helps me control it, so I can lead as normal a life as possible." He looked at his wrist, where the band of his Lens should have been. "Are you sure it's gone?" Paige nodded sadly. "I looked everywhere," she said. "One of the ones that got away must have taken it." "I've got to get it back," he said, clutching at her arm. "I've GOT to! If I don't - " He closed his eyes, looking like a man struck by a severe headache. " - then - " "Easy, Dr. Banner," said Paige soothingly. "Stay calm. We'll get it back. As soon as we shut down the rest of these Getter collectors, Furij's sensors will be able to pick it up." Banner calmed somewhat, but when he opened his eyes again there was a mix of desperation and misery in them. "I can't go on with the mission like this. You'd better leave me aboard the Valentina. I'm a liability without my Lens." "Dr. Banner," Paige said patiently, "I can't disarm a Getter reactor. Only you can do that, that's why you're here. Don't worry, now. I'll take care of my part; you do yours. We'll get your Lens back." The wild look in Banner's eyes faded. "Of... of course." He hung his head slightly and sighed. "Sorry," he said apologetically. "I... I haven't been without it since I got it. It's not easy getting used to the feeling that I might lose control." "Well, if something else happens, we'll take care of it as it comes. The important thing is that we get the mission done." "Yes. You're right," Banner agreed. Then he chuckled and added, "Oh, and Agent Guthrie?" "Yes?" Banner grinned wanly. "After all this... I think it'd be all right if you called me Bruce." Paige smiled. "I'm Paige," she said. "Nice to meet you." Nik Furij was surprisingly sympathetic, all things considered. He agreed that walking into the disruptor ambush had been a loser move, but seemed to respect the fact that Paige was already aware of that and had resolved not to let it happen again. "Well," he mused as a Howler tech removed the inertron shackles with a sonic screwdriver, "that's one mistake you don't have to make again." Paige nodded. "Where's our next target?" Collectors four and five were easy, but Paige no longer took anything for granted. She dealt with each building methodically, sweeping carefully for hidden spaces, and found nothing; the sites were absolutely deserted. She wondered once again, as she watched Banner dismantle the fifth subcollector, who these people -were- that were doing this. They'd apparently been human, but she hadn't recognized their armored uniforms. The droids were commercial models, anybody with enough money could have bought them; something might be traced from a serial number on one of their components, but Paige doubted it. Whoever they were, they'd covered their tracks very well so far, and if none of the stuff used in the Getter equipment was traceable, the security droids certainly wouldn't be. Paige also wondered if she'd be involved in the follow-up investigation. She knew some Experts of Justice preferred just to be involved in the head-to-head crisis phase of the job, bashing the bad guys and then leaving the legwork to the CID or local authorities, but Paige wasn't like that. She was tenacious, and driven by a powerful curiosity; she wanted to know what was really going on, wanted to be in on the process of finding out. Well, she could tackle that problem when she got to it. Chances were when she and Banner were done, Furij and his group would take over; maybe she could talk him and the Chief into letting her stay on for the investigation. That would be a good chance to prove that she had brains as well as muscle, something she hadn't, in her own estimation, done a very good job of on this mission so far. The collector went dark and quiet, and Banner stepped back, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of the unmarked Howling Brigade jumpsuit he'd been given to replace his ruined clothes. "Phew," he said. "Five down, one to go." Paige smiled. "Let's get to it, then," she said, and they headed up to the roof to meet the security team and brief them before heading back to the Valentina. The final subcollector was in a warehouse on the fringes of one of Zeltos IV's smaller cities. By the time Paige and Banner reached it, its location was just on the day side of the planet's day-night terminator - late afternoon gathering slowly toward evening. The building didn't have a useable roof like the others, so Paige decided to just take it directly. She left Banner where they'd beamed down, about a half-block up a wide, deserted street, and just walked up the sidewalk, feeling conspicuous in her red frock-tailed coat. If there was anyone in there... A plasma bolt burst through the warehouse's rolling-steel door, streaked down the street, narrowly missed Paige, and blew a freestanding mailbox all to hell. Paige idly wondered if that was a federal offense in Salusian territory, like it would've been back home, as she reflexively ducked and gave that door all her attention. For a moment, it didn't do anything other than stand there and smoke; then it bulged, bent, and burst into a cloud of metal strips that clattered and boinged as they scattered into the street. /* Bad Religion "Hear It" _No Substance_ */ Behind it were a trio of battlemovers, powered combat mecha in between powered armor and small Destroids in size. Paige recognized them from her studies of threat forces; they were GENOM DG-series movers, medium high-speed types with heavy plasma weaponry. Quite deadly, in the right hands. These were unmarked, except for thermocoat in the same shade of dark red as the armor on the men they'd encountered at collector three. The three battlemovers charged. Spitfire smiled, just a little, and met them. Bruce Banner stood next to a lamppost, his hands in his pockets, and watched as a slim blonde girl in her late teens went up against three of the Inner Sectors' deadliest war machines alone, unarmed, and barehanded but for a light pair of red gloves. He watched her soak up plasma hits that would have vaporized a man in CVR-class combat armor without a scratch; he watched her knock an entire weapons mount clean off one of the DGs' arms with a punch; he watched a progressive bayonet, vibrating so fast it made the air at its edge glow incandescent, shatter as it hit the perfectly normal-looking bare skin of her upraised forearm. Two of them jockeyed into position, and then, coordinated by silent radio signals, each seized one of her arms, pulling them out and back in a grotesque parody of crucifixion. Their powerful servos whined audibily as they forced her upright, nearly lifting her from the ground entirely. The third pivoted to face her, raising an arm, and the hackles-raising whine of a charging plasma weapon reached Banner's ears. Spitfire gritted her teeth, set herself, and lunged forward. The arms of the two DGs holding her arms parted at the shoulders with an ear-splitting shriek of tearing metal. She dropped free, still trailing the wreckage of the arms, and the third unit's plasma discharge blew a sizeable chunk off the one which had been on her left. As she hit the ground, she coiled and pushed off in a forward dive, her fists doubled before her - - and exploded clean through the third DG's midsection, just below the cockpit, scattering pieces of the battlemover's power train all over the street. Smoking and sparking, all three units collapsed. Spitfire whirled, seized the one she'd just passed through, flipped it on its back, and wrenched off the cockpit hatch. The pilot tried to shoot her with a hand disruptor - what the hell, it had worked before - but she was prepared this time; she interposed the cockpit hatch, which absorbed the bolt handily, then smacked the weapon from his hand with it, tossed it aside, and yanked him bodily out of his seat. "Who do you work for?" she demanded. Pale-faced and sweating, he replied, "Ch-Ch-Church of Man!" Spitfire's scowl darkened. "Why is the Church of Man messing with Getter reactors on a heavily populated colony?" she asked. "Not heavily populated," the pilot replied, a sneer touching his lips despite his obvious terror of her. "Only about a million -people-." Spitfire was about to tell him he was off by an order of magnitude, until it hit her what he was getting at. The Church of Man was a radical religion which believed that humanity - Earth-born humanity in particular, though they grudgingly accepted that the other human races, like the Zardons and the Corellians, were worthy of entry into God's Kingdom as well - was the only true sentient life in the galaxy. "Those people would die too!" she protested. "Even if the Getter rays didn't kill them, if the explosions didn't get them, the aftereffects would!" "We know," the pilot replied, fast regaining his composure as his enemy's discomfiture increased. "They'll be martyrs. Killed by the animals they were misguided enough to live among." Spitfire blinked, appalled shock replacing the anger on her face. Her fast and agile mind picked up bits of context from her intensive self-driven study of galactic threats and political factions, and in a few staggering instants she realized the complete import of what was happening on Zeltos IV - as the complete picture was suddenly and sickeningly revealed in a flash of combined intellect and intuition. The Church wasn't hoping that the Ragol Event would kill most of the planet's population... they were hoping - EXPECTING - that it would turn the ethnic Salusian majority of the Zeltans into monsters. Monsters who would then slaughter the surviving humans, and probably each other as well. The Church of Man would trumpet it to the heavens (no pun intended), this 'proof' that Salusians were animals. They would claim that the Getter bombardment merely revealed the 'truth' of the monstrous inner nature of non-humans. They expected the incident to sow discontent, distrust, -violence- across the whole sphere of the galaxy, for everywhere in the civilized galaxy one would find humans and Salusians living and working side by side. A billion lives destroyed... ... to 'prove' a vicious, murderous lie and set off a galactic wave of mindless, bigoted violence. Humans declaring their superiority and backing it up with hatred, subterfuge, and murder. Just. Like. Back. Home. An almost blinding rage surged up inside Paige Guthrie, parching her throat, contracting her stomach, making her hands shake. At that moment, she thought she might understand what it was -like- to be the Hulk. With a thought, with barely the effort a normal person would use to twist the cap from a bottle of soda, she could separate this grinning psychotic's head from the rest of him. With just a flick of her finger she could shatter his skull or snap his neck. With a little more effort she could shake him until all his internal organs were an undifferentiated sludge and his brain was one big contusion. It would have been SO. Easy. Instead, she relaxed her trembling hands and let him fall back into his wrecked battlemover's cockpit, like an underlength fish back into a creek. "We'll stop you," she told him in a harsh, breathless voice. Then she picked up the battlemover's hatch and slammed it back into position so hard that it spot-welded to the coaming, trapping the pilot inside. She turned to look at the other two units, but they offered no reaction whatsoever; their power systems were completely offline and their pilots in no mood to try their luck against the girl who had just done -that-. "Come on, Bruce," she said to Banner, her voice tightly controlled. "We've got work to do." The door to the room containing the sixth Getter collector all but disintegrated under the blow that opened it, and Spitfire stalked through the hole it had left, still looking pretty ticked off. She paused, momentarily surprised to find someone there - there hadn't been anyone attending any of the others, even in the building which had housed the trap squad - and held up a hand to stop Banner coming in behind her. "You might as well give it up," she told the holdout. "You're the only one left." "Don't come near me!" the Churchman replied, his hand poised over the collector's control panel. "If you move, I'll supercrit the collector!" "You'll die if you do that," Spitfire pointed out. "So will you," he said. "That might make it worthwhile." Banner, despite her gesture, moved up and looked past her. His eyes met the Churchman's, and recognition sparked in both. "KEEP HIM AWAY FROM ME!" the Churchman screamed. He was a thin-faced, disreputable-looking individual with lank, sandy hair; in another time and place, Paige would have taken him for the stereotypical spy. Now he was pointing past her at Banner, his face blanched and sweaty. "Keep that FREAK away from me!" he repeated. "(He's the one who took my Lens,)" Banner murmured to Spitfire. "(He must be - he was the only other person in the room when they cut off my hand. Hulk killed the one who actually swung the axe... )" Spitfire put her hands on her hips and glared at the Churchman. Only now did she notice that the man's red uniform had a military-style name tape on it. She chided herself for being so unobservant before, having failed to notice them on any of the others she'd encountered so far. Then again, she -had- been rather busy. "You have something that belongs to my colleague, Mr. Blonsky," she said. "Step away from that machine and return it." "Return THIS!" Blonsky screamed, and brought his hand down on the Getter collector's control panel, smashing it. Spitfire didn't think; she only reacted. Whirling, she caught Banner around the waist with one arm, slinging him over her shoulder like a sack of oats, and then, her other arm bent in front of her face, she launched herself forward and up. Of all the powers she'd gained when she'd lost her original mutant gift, the ability to fly - to soar through the air with no visible means of propulsion, with nothing more than the effort a normal person would put into walking - was the one she liked best, and also the one she'd had the hardest time getting used to. Now it saved, if not her hide, then almost certainly Banner's. She shot through the flimsy tin wall of the warehouse like a rifle bullet, streaking down the street in a low arc, operating on blind instinct as an explosion of unearthly energy erupted behind her. She couldn't go very fast, not with Banner's frail human frame (unchanged - she admired the man's ability to keep calm) on her shoulder; the shockwave caught up with her before she was halfway to the corner, slapping her down out of the air. She twisted as she fell so that her back, not Banner's face, would hit the street, then held him to her as they rolled over and over, tumbling until they fetched up against the face of the building at the end of the street. The blast blew the wrecked battlemovers down the street like origami cranes dropped in front of a desk fan, bashing them against the building. Paige hunched her back, covering Banner, her elbows braced against the concrete of the sidewalk, as the debris scattered past. Then... it was oddly quiet. She looked up, puzzled. She'd been expecting a much bigger explosion than that, but all it had really done was wrecked the warehouse and some of the other buildings at that end of the street, broken a lot of windows, and thrown a lot of rubble around. She'd seen more violent explosions from conventional sources - that gas tank at LoboTech came to mind. Suddenly, she realized that Banner was quivering underneath her. She rolled off, coming up to one knee; Banner rose to his hands and knees, fists clenched, his muscles visibly vibrating under his borrowed Howler uniform. "Nnnnngh," he said through gritted teeth. "Getter flux... can't... CHANGING... " "Easy, Bruce, easy," said Paige, putting a hand on his back. "No need for that. It's all over now. We're OK. Calm. Calm. Easy." She kept that up for almost a minute, patting his back and speaking soothingly, and it did the trick. Presently his tremors subsided, and he slumped, exhaling hard, before rising into a position like seiza and regarding her gratefully. "Thanks," he breathed. "Almost... lost it there. The Getter wave that came off that explosion wasn't powerful enough to mutate anything, I don't think, but it almost set off my own... problem." Slowly, they got to their feet and looked around. "Strange," Banner mused. "That collector was fully charged. It should have made a much more violent explosion - obliterated most of this city. I, at least, ought to be a cloud of vapor; I'm not sure about you." Paige brushed some brick dust from her coat sleeve and chuckled. "Neither is anyone else," she said. "The collector must have been defective," said Banner, still thinking out loud. "There was nothing there that could have absorbed a Getter flux of the magnitude I was expecting... " "Nothing except Blonsky," Paige said. "He must've been blown to pieces, and good riddance." She chuckled wryly. "It's gonna take me all week to dig your Lens out of there," she said, gesturing to the wreckage of the building. Banner laughed and would have responded, but he was interrupted by a grinding noise as part of the rubble shifted. Then there was another, and another, and then part of the heap -exploded-, sending chunks of tin and broken concrete scattering like fragments from a shell burst as something heaved itself up out of the pile. For a second Paige thought, though this was clearly impossible, that it was the Hulk. It was about the same size and roughly the same shape, but it was a somewhat lighter shade of green. "What the - ?" she murmured. The monstrous shape brushed the rest of the wreckage from itself, turned, and stalked toward them. As it came nearer, they could see that it was markedly less humanoid than the Hulk; its skin was rough and scaly, and its hairless head and fin-eared face had a cast that was fishy or reptilian, or some unholy combination of both. It was quite hideous - and as she noticed its tattered red shorts, their button-flapped cargo pockets still intact, Paige realized what it was. "Blonsky!" she blurted, eyes wide. "What - have - you - DONE TO ME?!" the creature roared in a voice similar to that of the Churchman, but, like his body, larger and rather... warped. "I didn't do anything to you!" Spitfire replied. "You're the one decided to smash the collector panel... " The monstrous Churchman looked at his hands, his hideous face twisted in a grimace of horror and pain. "I'm... I'm CHANGED! INHUMAN! The Getter rays POLLUTED me! Turned me into this... this... this ABOMINATION!" Spitfire folded her arms. "Yeah," she said unsympathetically. "Like you boys intended to do to almost everyone on this planet." She made a scornful little noise. "How's it feel?" Emil Blonsky's answer was a frenzied roaring leap. He was -fast-, faster than Spitfire expected, and his first punch clipped her chin. It felt almost exactly like getting tagged by Cain, that same freight-train rush, and it spun her completely around and dazed her with sudden pain. Bruce Banner stood on the sidewalk and watched in wide-eyed horror as Blonsky capitalized on his early advantage and beat Spitfire senseless. She tried to get her guard up, tried to fight back, but the first blow had spelled disaster for the young Lensman in this fight. She never got her feet back under her, metaphorically speaking, and within a minute (despite managing to land a couple of pretty solid blows), she was overcome. Banner tried to help. As he watched, he struggled to get mad, to -will- the horror filling his mind to become anger, but it didn't work. In desperation, he knelt down and punched the ground as hard as he could, feeling a sunburst of pain explode in his newly-regrown hand, but though his heart rate picked up and a sweat broke out on his forehead, nothing else happened. Some part of Banner's mind observed the irony in his wanting, -desperately- wanting, the change, but the rest was too close to panic to pay attention. The panic - mixed with a strange blend of hope and anticipation - spiked when Blonsky dropped the unconscious Lensman at Banner's feet, then stood looming over him. OK, Banner thought, this is it. If I survive the first hit... But Blonsky merely sneered with his hideously misshapen face. "Tell your boss to send a grown-up next time," he said. Banner said nothing, merely staring evenly up at the monstrous face, his fists balled. "What's the matter?" the mutated Churchman inquired nastily. "Can't get it up twice in one night?" He chortled darkly, his glassy green eyes flecked with madness. Then he turned, gathered himself, and leaped into the air. So far and high did he jump that for a moment it seemed like he was flying, as Paige could; but off in the distance, Banner saw his course curve downward and knew that it was just a prodigious leap. He'd done the same thing often enough, as the Hulk. He disregarded that train of thought and knelt beside Paige. The blonde girl lay on her back, one arm folded across her stomach, eyes closed. She didn't look injured, but she was unconscious, and Banner didn't dare shake her or otherwise try to rouse her. There was no telling what kind of internal damage she might have. He searched her carefully for a communications device - she had her Lens, but that was no good to him - and found an IPO commpin tucked under the lapel of her red coat. Mercifully, it hadn't been damaged in the pounding its owner had received. Banner tugged it off, tripped it, and tried to keep his voice steady as he said, "Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? This is Dr. Robert Bruce Banner of the International Police. Please, can anyone hear me?" "This is Furij," replied the voice of the Howling Brigade's commander. "What's going on down there, Banner? We registered an explosion and - " "Never mind about that right now!" Banner snapped. "Spitfire is down, she needs help. I can't tell how badly she's hurt, but I can't wake her." "OK, we'll send a squad down. What happened?" "One of the enemy agents - it was the Church of Man - his name's Blonsky - he set off the collector, and the rays changed him. Like they changed me." A crawling sensation began in the back of Banner's head as his agitation increased. No, no, he thought, not NOW, where were you FIVE MINUTES AGO?! The frustration only made matters worse. His hands shaking, Banner brushed ineffectually at Paige's rumpled coat, smoothed some of her hair out of her face. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. "Oh, God, she's bleeding - she's bleeding from her mouth - I can't tell - can we get some HELP down here?!" he yelled, his worry and frustration peaking - and then it started. "NO!" he cried, dropping the commpin. "Banner?" Furij's voice said tinnily from the pin. "No - no - not NOW - I - AAAAARRRRGGHHH!" said Banner. "... Oh, -great-," said Furij's voice. The Hulk picked the pin up and hurled it away; it vanished into the distance, twinkling in the last rays of Zeltos IV's sun. Then, with that annoyance taken care of, the green goliath looked down at Paige. He frowned thoughtfully as he looked back through the fog that always fell over Banner's memories, trying to remember what had happened to her. The image was so clearly burned in Banner's memory that it didn't even take the usual amount of effort. "Lizard man hurt girl," he growled, rising to his feet. "Girl is Hulk's FRIEND." He turned eastward, facing the direction in which Blonsky had disappeared. "Hulk will FIND lizard man!" he snarled, his huge fists clenching. "And when Hulk FINDS... Hulk will SMASH!" Then he, too, gathered himself and leaped into the air, vanishing beyond the rooftops in a single mighty bound. /* Juno Reactor "High Energy Protons (Orion Mix)" _Bible of Dreams_ */ When Paige Guthrie regained consciousness in the sick bay of the Valentina, it was with the taste of dried blood in her mouth and the knowledge that she had screwed up again. Neither was particularly palatable, and the mild headache didn't help anything, but as she sat up and made sure that everything still bent the way it was supposed to bend, she counted herself fortunate anyway. She had seriously underestimated the scaly creature's monstrous power and his tremendous savagery, and she had paid for it with one the worst beatings of her career and a bitter sense of failure. Nik Furij, standing near the door, made it worse. Instead of pointing out her failure or something equally deserved, he asked if she was feeling all right. "I'll live," she said. "I wouldn't say no to something to drink and a couple of Tylenol." These were provided by a green-coated medtech who informed her that she was sound and hearty, and the fastest healer he'd ever seen. She washed down the pills with a swallow of what tasted like coffee - not her first choice, but whatever - as she followed Furij forward to the situation room. "The red dot is Blonsky," he said, pointing to a holographic globe display of Zeltos IV, "and the green dot is your friend Banner." As Paige watched, the green dot chased the red dot across the planet's largest continent, both moving in steady, rhythmic little jumps. "They're covering about two miles per jump," Furij answered her unspoken question, "and they're just about to Zamora." Paige frowned. "Zamora? Blonsky's trying to get to the main reactor?" "That's what we figure," Furij replied, nodding. "I've called out the local defense forces and locked down the factory tight, but if that thing Blonsky turned into is anything like the Hulk, I don't think they've got a chance in hell of stopping him." "He called himself an abomination... " Paige mused, feeling gently at her side where one of her ribs still twinged a little bit. "And I'd say he's every bit as powerful as the Hulk." Furij scratched at his unshaven chin. "Abomination, huh? Great," he said sourly. "Well, your Abomination is headed straight for the biggest bomb on the planet, and Banner's a total loose cannon without his Lens. This is gonna be an alMIGHTy mess if somebody doesn't do something." Paige nodded, looking at the map, watching the red dot cross the outer perimeter of Zamora. "Excuse me for a second," she said, and went to an empty corner of the room to concentrate on her Lens. came the Chief's mental "voice", and Paige felt a conflicting combination of relief and dread wash over her at the touch of his consciousness to hers. Gryphon's mental tone conveyed mild surprise. Paige gave her Lens a look of puzzlement. Wasn't it obvious? she said, hanging her head, eyes closed. There was a pause; then Gryphon's voice came again, stern but not harsh. he said. Paige opened her eyes and looked at the Lens in surprise. Gryphon allowed. Paige thought about that for a moment, then smiled, closing her eyes again as she held the arm with her Lens on it against her chest. she said. the Chief replied. Paige nodded - one of the quirks of Lens-to-Lens communications was that, despite the fact that no visual image was involved, things like that carried across the link - and broke the connection, then fell back into the trance, seeking, searching... using her resources. A pause, and then that familiar, big, rough voice, responding without hesitation: The link broke from the other end this time, and Paige stole a moment to entertain the image of Cain at his most Grim and Purposeful, barging into the motor pool. Then she composed herself and turned to Furij. "Someone will," she told him, returning to the map area. "I need an intercept vector for the Abomination." Furij smiled, reached into his pocket, and took out a small object wrapped tightly in foil. "You might want to take this with you," he said. "Found it in the rubble when we retrieved you." Emil Blonsky could have had it all, or at least what he was after. He could have reached the control station, turned the reactor back on, and set it to go critical. Banner had failed to become the Hulk with his enemy staring him right in the face. The girl was probably dead. Nothing else on this miserable rock had a chance against him now. The reactor wouldn't be at full power with its collector sites shut down, but it had plenty of energy stored already from their six-day run-up - more than enough energy to wipe Zamora off the map and mutate at least everything on this continent, if not in this hemisphere. The carnage would still be unbelievable, the Church's point still proven, the Age of Blood still inaugurated. Maybe - just maybe - even the monster he had become could die in the explosion. Then he would be revered as a martyr instead of struck from the Church's memory as an abomination. He could have had it all... except that when he reached Zamora, his newfound power, for all that he hated the body it brought with it, went to his head. Instead of just plowing through the defensive perimeter, ignoring the weapon fire of the Zeltos IV Defense Force's tanks and Destroids, and proceeding straight to his goal, he dawdled. He played with them. What the hell - might as well show the furfaces that even a man become a monster was more of a man than they were. Banner had -failed- to become the Hulk. The girl was -dead-. Who could stop him? The answer came like an anvil out of a clear blue sky. For a second, Blonsky didn't know what had hit him - just that one second he'd been in one of the city's many large traffic squares, preparing the coup de grace for a Z4DF Centurion Destroid, and the next something had hit him in the chest like a howitzer, knocking him ass over bandwagon across the square. He pulled himself to his feet, turning to see what had hit him - - just in time to see a bright green fist hurtling right for him. The impact sent him over backward, tumbling across the street until he fetched up against a building. Shaking his head, he regarded the path he'd just crossed blearily and saw the -other- green monster, the one that had killed his squadmates at collector three, striding across the pavement toward him. "Get UP, lizard man!" the Hulk declared, and he grabbed the Abomination, yanked him upright, and hurled him into an equestrian statue, reducing it to gravel. "The HULK?!" Blonsky blurted as he heaved himself to his feet. "What are you DOING here?" he demanded. "It's not FAIR. I taunted Banner to his FACE and he couldn't change." "Pfeh," said the Hulk dismissively as he crossed the square. "Puny Banner never does ANYTHING right. Always the same. Banner makes stupid mess... " The Getter goliath broke into a trot. "HULK has to CLEAN UP!" he said, and launched another thunderous punch. The first and last time Paige Guthrie had experienced unshielded planetfall, she'd found it a very unpleasant experience. For one thing, the first part had hurt a lot, and then she'd spent the rest of it unconscious and nearly destroyed the home of some good people who'd since become her friends. The second time, she was in control of her powers and had clothes that wouldn't burn off. Despite the fact that she was under considerable stress and burdened with a lot of concerns, she managed to have a fine time, carving her incandescent way through Zeltos IV's atmosphere in a long, graceful arc that ended at Zamora. "One thing about Bruce... when he's in a bad mood, he's not hard to find," Spitfire mused as she followed the trail of destruction through downtown Zamora. She found the Hulk and the Abomination very easily indeed; they were slugging it out right in front of the abandoned factory where the main Getter reactor was. That was cause for concern indeed; she didn't relish the idea of such a high-powered punch-up getting anywhere near such delicate, unstable machinery, to say nothing of what Blonsky probably intended to do with it if he actually got into the building. So when the Abomination momentarily staggered the Hulk with a tremendous backfist, then picked up a chunk of rebar-studded concrete rubble from the ground and raised it over his head, she swooped in and struck, clipping him sidewise without touching down. Until she had a better gauge of his strength and resilience, she wasn't going to make the mistake of getting close enough, slowly enough, for him to grab her again. Now it was the Abomination's turn to stagger. He dropped the rubble, reeled, caught himself, and whirled, trying to see what had hit him. All he could make out was a scarlet blur, but he knew what it had to be, and his jaw dropped. How could she -possibly- still be alive after the beating he'd given her? She came at him from all sides, circling him the way cartoonists thought electrons worked in the 1950s, sometimes cutting across the circle to smash a blow across his face or body on her way by. She braided her passes with the attacks of the Hulk, falling quickly into a rhythm of strike and evasion, wondering if even the two of them could bring this bastard down. Come on, Cain, where are you? she thought. As she did, the Abomination got lucky. As she streaked past him, just missing an attempted strike, he got a hand out and grabbed her long blonde hair. Spitfire yelled in pain and consternation as the scaly green monster whipped her around in an arc above his head, using her own momentum to speed her on her way, and released her straight toward the side of a factory outbuilding. She hurtled across the shop yard, smashed clean through the side of the brick-walled building, and then disappeared as the structure collapsed on top of her in a cloud of dust. The Abomination brushed his hands together and chortled smugly. "Well, -she- won't be bothering me again," he observed, and turned back to the Hulk, who was staring at him with an unnervingly intense look in his bright green eyes. "What're -you- looking at?" Blonsky demanded. "Lizard man... hurt... girl again," the Hulk growled, his voice unsettlingly quiet. "That's -very- perceptive of you, Hulk," said the Abomination mockingly. "What's next? Going to demonstrate some math for me?" The Hulk's huge green fists clenched so tightly that the skin of his fingers and palms could be heard creaking, like leather rubbed against leather. "Red coat girl is Hulk's -friend-," the Hulk observed, as though trying to explain a very difficult concept to a very stupid person. "Awww," Blonsky replied, grinning a hideous, reptilian grin. "Isn't that -sweet-? You were made for each other. Really." The Hulk closed his eyes and shook his head, a trifle resignedly - and was it Blonsky's imagination, or was he actually getting -larger-? Not taller, but, if that was even possible, even more ripped? "Lizard man won't smile soon," he observed. Then he opened his eyes, and they were -glowing- as the Hulk suddenly -exploded- into motion, launching himself like a missile at the Abomination while bellowing at the top of his very considerable lungs, "HULK SMAAAAAAASH!!!" A very peculiar thing happened just then, -besides- Emil Blonsky getting punched so hard that even his remarkably sturdy teeth felt a bit loosened. No, indeed; the very peculiar thing was that at that -exact- moment, a most unpleasant vibration began in the ground, and bright green light began -pouring- from the factory building's windows. Spitfire shrugged off an entire building, coughing and sputtering as brick dust blanketed her. She blinked through tears that felt like mud and saw a hulking shape bending over her. For a second, she thought it was either the Abomination come to finish her off, or the Hulk, come to see if she was all right. As her rapid blinking cleared her vision, though, she saw it was neither. "Hey, munchkin," said the Juggernaut as he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, scattering bricks in every direction. "You wanna explain to your dumb old Uncle Cain what the freakin' hell is goin' on around here?" Paige brushed at her self, raked her hair back into its accustomed position, and shook her head. "There ain't tahm f'that," she replied, her usually suppressed West Virginia drawl back with a vengeance. Cain's eyebrows went up under his dome-shaped helmet; he knew from experience that this was a very bad sign for -somebody-. Paige reached into the inside pocket of her coat, pulled out a foil package, and pressed it into one of the Juggernaut's huge hands. Pointing to the smoother of the two giants smashing at each other in front of the factory building, she said, "Put this on th' Hulk. Once y'do, he'll know what t'do about -that-," she added, indicating the glow coming from the factory. The Juggernaut unwrapped the object and blinked; it was a Lens on its silver band, its face dark, indicating that it was out of contact with its owner and deadly to touch. "Uh... OK," he said. "What about Freak Boy there?" Paige smiled a very nasty smile. "Th' 'Bomination's -mahn-," she replied, then launched herself into the air. Blonsky was just about to try clobbering the Hulk with a chunk of I-beam, just for a change of pace, when he was struck admidships by what felt, to his slightly fanciful imagination, like a photon torpedo. He was bowled completely over by the impact, rolled several times on the ground, and then felt something kick him soundly away. When he got to his feet and turned to see what had hit him, he saw the impossible - the girl in the red coat again, tumbling neatly to her feet in a movement that would have struck him as beautifully acrobatic had he not been so preoccupied by being dumbfounded and furious. Spitfire rose to her feet, dusted herself off again. Then, as the Abomination stared at her in furious astonishment, she very deliberately removed her gloves, tucked them into the pocket of her coat, removed the coat, and hung it on a handy piece of twisted rebar jutting from a chunk of nearby rubble. That done, she spat on her palms, rubbed them together, worked her hands carefully into fists, and squared off. When she spoke, she'd conquered her accent again, and only the usual faint, melodic trace colored her speech as she said calmly, "Let's dance, you xenophobic prick." (Reflecting on this verbal excess later, Paige concluded with some embarrassment that her roommate was a bad influence. Jubilee, hearing about the incident from her, concurred, saying, "Yeah, that was a very me thing to say.") Back by the front of the factory, the Hulk saw Spitfire clobber the Abomination and carry him some distance down the road, tumble with him, kick him off, and get to her feet. He made ready to go to her aid, but before he could, an arm grabbed him from behind and a hand seized his wrist. "Sorry, pal," said a voice in his ear, "you're not going anywhere." "Let GO of Hulk!" the Hulk demanded, twisting, and the Juggernaut was startled to be shaken loose. Holy crap, he thought, this guy's actually STRONGER'n me! But, a job's a job... They shuffled back and forth in front of the factory, getting in a few blows but mostly grappling. The Hulk was very strong indeed, his present level of fury making him stronger than Cain to a startling degree; but he knew little of the intricacies of grappling, and Cain enjoyed the rare experience of being the more agile combatant in close. The Juggernaut saw an opening and went for it, but the Hulk was faster than he expected and met him with a tremendous punch. Cain actually staggered backward as the blow smashed into his body just at the seam where his helmet met his breastplate. To his astonishment, the helmet -came off-, its mounting lugs snapping, and flipped backward off his head to clang onto the ground behind him. That had happened before, but it had been a while, and it always amazed him whenever he encountered anything powerful enough to do it. He tried not to think about what that blow might have done to his face as he set himself, growled, and drove back in, this time ducking the blow and catching the flailing Hulk cleanly around the waist. Just like playing football back in school... with a guy who's trying to rip your head off. Once he had the Hulk down - and he knew he couldn't hold him long, with the very fact that he was trapped increasing the green behemoth's strength still MORE with every passing second - the Juggernaut took a deep breath and did something he knew would hurt. He stripped off the metal 'pounder' that usually enclosed the palm of his right hand - he would need all the dexterity he could manage for this next trick - then reached to his belt, took out Banner's Lens, and held it flat across his palm. The ultimate defense of the International Police Lens, its greatest prevention against unauthorized use or even useful analysis by the enemy, is its propensity to become lethal if out of contact with its owner. Just touching a darkened Lens not one's own produces a jolt of agonizing pain, pain which increases with every passing moment until, within a few seconds, it brings death to any normal being. Cain Marko was banking on the fact that he was -not- any normal being as he held another's Lens in his hand and wrangled with the Hulk, trying to position the Lens so that its band would go over the green goliath's hand and lock the Lens back around his right wrist. Smoke rose between Cain's fingers as the Lens lashed out, defending itself from the unauthorized contact, and the Juggernaut actually screamed with physical pain. The anguish galvanized him; he seized the Hulk tighter, his fingers searching, and felt the band slip partway over the jade giant's struggling hand. "Puny red man try to hold Hulk, but he will FAIL!" the Hulk snarled, his huge shoulders bunching. "NO ONE can hold Hulk!" He threw his strongest effort yet against his captor, knees and elbows buckling the ground beneath him as he struggled to throw Cain off. "HULK IS STRONGEST ONE THERE IS!" Marko gritted his teeth and hung on, tears running from the corners of his eyes as the Lens tore at his very being, trying to snuff him out. "That - may - be, pal," he gasped, and then doubled his efforts, twisting the Hulk's arm around behind him. "But," he added through his teeth, "NOTHING - STOPS - the _JUGGERNAUT_!" The band slipped over the wide part of the Hulk's hand and contracted, sliding the rest of way on its own, and Cain felt the pain flood out of him again as the gem came into contact with the skin of its owner. He sagged with relief, released the Hulk and tottered back, smoke curling up from the palm of his hand. The Hulk lay where he was left, his face in his hands; a moment later he stirred, then slowly got to his feet and turned. His face was the same, but its expression was completely changed, the rictus of rage that had always stretched it into savage hard lines completely erased. Instead, he had a look of mild, almost academic curiosity, mingled with concern. "Uh... hello," he said. "You must be Cain Marko." "Hi, yeah, nicetameetcha," said the Juggernaut, waving his good hand. "Paige said you'd know what to do about -that-," he added, pointing. The Hulk - Bruce Banner - turned and looked, saw the green light gushing from the windows. "Oh my God," he murmured. Then he turned back to the Juggernaut, looking torn. "I'll probably need your help to deal with the reactor in this state," he said, but then he gestured to the other fight, the one raging about half a mile down the road. "But... what about Agent Guthrie?" The Juggernaut looked, then turned back, smiling at the giant green scientist. "She'll be all right," he told Banner. "I taught her everything she knows about fighting big, slow bastards." /* Bad Religion "God Song" _Against the Grain_ */ When they'd first fought, the Abomination had caught Spitfire flat-footed, then taken her apart like a cheap toy. It had been easy, and even as he recoiled from the thing he had become, Emil Blonsky had exulted in the -power- that coursed through his hideous new body. The fact that his opponent had very nearly the -same- power and yet retained her human beauty made him hate her all the more. He wanted to break her, to take that beauty from her and make it so others would turn away from her in revulsion, as they would from him - and in these misshapen, scaly hands he had the power to do it. Paige wasn't making the same mistakes this time, though. She was fully on her guard, and without that initial strike to destroy her concentration and balance, she was Blonsky's equal - his BETTER - if not in raw power, then in experience with that power and knowledge of how to employ it. Though a trained soldier, Blonsky wasn't a stand-up fighter; he was a saboteur and assassin. He was also unaccustomed to fighting on this level of power. Spitfire had learned to defend herself from some of the best around - Logan, the Chief, Jackie Chan - and trained in the use of her strength under some of the universe's mightiest warriors. Cain Marko, the Juggernaut. Thor Ironhammer, Norse god of thunder. Eiko Rose, a kindergarten teacher. (No, really.) Wherever the Abomination threw a fist, Spitfire wasn't. Wherever the Abomination tried to dodge, Spitfire was. Using her agility, her speed, and her power of flight, she sometimes seemed to be everywhere. Her fists, though tiny by his standards, hit like slugs from a mass driver; but the rest of her seemed as insubstantial as smoke as Blonsky flailed and roared and tried to get hold of her. On the other hand, his capacity for punishment seemed -infinite-. However much she hit him, however many times she evaded his fists or his grasp, he never seemed to tire or feel pain for more than a second or so after each blow. Presently, -Paige- began to tire, her arms aching, her chest burning. She'd expended -tremendous- amounts of energy, more than she -ever- had in a workout, and it had been a hard day to boot. Her rope was a very long one, but she feared she was nearing the end of it, and Blonsky wasn't even - - she missed a dodge, and he caught her, his huge hand clamping around her neck and arresting her motion in an instant. His lizardy eyes glittered at her as he grinned. "You're mine now, missy," he snarled, and then fired his free hand into her belly once, twice, again, with force that could have shattered a mountain. Spitfire gasped explosively as the air was forced from her lungs with the first blow; she grabbed at his wrist, but his hand was like adamantium and her strength was fading fast as his repeated blows filled her with pain. No, she thought, I won't lose to this creep, not again! (ALL your resources,) the Chief had said. She threw herself at the sky. The Abomination let out a cry of consternation as he was yanked from the ground as though he'd just grabbed a cable trailing from a passing airliner. He clung on doggedly, keeping his grip as Spitfire poured on all the power she had left and carried them higher and higher. The sky had just started to shift from blue to black, the stars shivering into view, when Blonsky released his breath with an explosive "AGH!" and let her go, plummeting away. She didn't need to breathe, but that was about the limit of Paige's endurance too; her eyes slipped shut on the view of the stars peeking out between wispy streaks of blue, and she fell back toward Zamora. /* Big Country "Chester's Farm" _The Buffalo Skinners_ */ The reactor was in what the Hulk understatedly called "a greatly agitated state." Cain, no engineer, took this to mean that it was going absolutely batshit and would blow any second. "All right," the Hulk said. He tore a panel off the front of the enormous, pulsing, fizzling machine, threw it aside, and pointed into the almost intolerable green-white brilliance that was thus revealed. As Cain squinted into the light, he could make out the shadowy outline of a spiral shape, almost like a corrugated tunnel, with the light coming from its coils and from something at the far end. "I need you to go to the other end of the coil condenser," the Hulk shouted over the sizzling roar of the Getter reactor, "and pull that master bus at the same time that I disconnect this end here. This close to critical that's the only thing we can do that will shut this down without blowing it sky-high!" "What happens if we get it wrong?" asked Cain, although he knew the answer. "Everybody dies," the Hulk replied flatly. The Juggernaut grinned. "So, the usual," he said. "Pretty much," the Hulk replied with a small, tight smile of his own. "How do I get there?" asked Cain, although he knew the answer to that too. "You'll have to take the direct route," the Hulk replied, pointing straight into the maelstrom. The Juggernaut nodded. "I can do direct," he said, and marched into the coil. Raw Getter rays, enough power to blow this city clean off the face of the planet and twist every lifeform in the hemisphere into a horrific, murderous beast, tore at him as he entered the cobra's mouth. He ignored it utterly, his teeth gritted, his eyes intense. This hurts almost as bad as putting the Doc's Lens back on him, he remarked to himself as he forced his way down the searing tunnel, one foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right. He could smell smoke from his bootsoles as they burned in the fires of the galaxy's biggest Getter-ray reactor. I've never wanted to give up and lie down as much as I do now. Never. Not even when I lost the power that one time. Not even when I was a kid and Dad whipped me for nothing at all. Never. The old me woulda quit, he realized suddenly. He'd'a said, The hell with all these people - the explosion won't kill -me-, and headed in the opposite direction, and God help anything that got in his way. But it's different now. I'm an X-Man. An Expert of Justice. One of the Good Guys. And if I don't make it... I blow the kid's mission. His lips drew back a little more from his teeth. Not. Gonna. Happen. Almost before he knew it he was at the other end, looking at the master bus - a tremendous thick cable which came from the end of the coil and plugged into a massive block of metal. "BANNER!" he bellowed, hoping his comrade could hear him. "I'M THERE!" Banner's voice, driven by the full power of the Hulk's lungs, came back to him. "AFTER THREE!" he roared. "ONE! TWO! THREE! _NOW_!!" Cain seized the cable in both hands, screaming as the energy lashed up his unshielded arms and knotted his body. He braced a foot against the wall and heaved with all the strength he could muster. Not only the cable but the bus block it went into sheared away from the back of the generator in a tremendous explosion of green-white sparks. At the far end of the coil, the Hulk did the same with the entry bus. There was a tremendous silent explosion. The Hulk and the Juggernaut were flung violently down as every window in the factory burst and a pillar of green light shot into the sky, dissipating in the high atmosphere. Zeltos IV's natural Getter flux went back where it belonged, dispersing throughout the planet, as the excess bled back into space and the proper equilibrium was restored. Inside the building, all was silence. For a few moments, all was silence outside as well. The Abomination and Spitfire both lay in the rubble-strewn yard before the factory, about a hundred yards apart in separate craters. As the Getter rays washed gently over the planet, though, the Abomination stirred, then rose. Looking around, he saw Paige lying face-down in her crater, not far from the Juggernaut's lost helmet. He smiled a hideous smile and started sauntering toward her in a leisurely manner. His mission was a failure. He could never go back to the Church. He had nothing much left to live for... ... but this was going to be -fun-. She began stirring as he approached, so he quickened his pace a little. It was actually good that she was waking; it would be more fun if she were at least partly conscious. Spitfire had crawled slowly and painfully to the edge of the crater by the time the Abomination arrived. He stood over her, leering down with his warped, scaly face, his hands working in and out of fists. "Well, missy," he said. "Looks like Emil's as good as new, for an Abomination. But you're not looking so good. C'mon up here and we'll see if Emil can make you feel better." /* Faith No More "Surprise! You're Dead!" _The Real Thing_ */ Spitfire glanced up at him, and he took a half-step back from the fully conscious loathing in her cornflower-blue eyes. "I think NOT," she said, and with a speed that completely outstripped his flat-footed reactions, she reached out, grabbed the Juggernaut's helmet by the mouth slot, and leaped to her feet, bringing the heavy dome of otherworldly metal up with all her strength. It struck the Abomination in the face with a great hollow BONG and sent him pitching straight up and over backward, green blood flying in a picturesque arc from his smashed mouth. He crashed down on his back, skidded several yards, and lay for a moment before struggling to get up. Paige regarded the dome-shaped helmet for a moment, then turned it over, removed the length of decorative chain from her belt, and lashed the helmet to her arm by the bent stubs of its mounting lugs. It was a crude approximation - the mounting system left MUCH to be desired, it was too big, and its curvature was too extreme - but the effect was about what she was going for anyway, just as the idea had sprung all at once into her head. Like almost every red-blooded American girl who grew up in the 1990s, Paige Guthrie had owned a Captain America poster, displayed with pride on her bedroom wall. She crossed to the Abomination and stood over -him- with her impromptu shield lashed to her arm. "Get up, you scum," she said in a low, deceptively calm voice, "so I can knock you down again." Blonsky shook his head, recovered his wits, felt at his mashed lips, and then sprang roaring to his feet. "Unnnhhh. Banner? You alive?" "I... think so. You?" "Heh. Yeah. I wouldn't hurt this much if I was dead." The Incredible Hulk chuckled and shoved a two-ton segment of the shattered coil condenser off him, then got to his feet. "I know the feeling," he said as he crossed through the rubble and hoisted the Juggernaut upright. "Shall we go see how our young friend is doing?" With a heavy chunk of mystic metal on her arm and a full blaze of fury in her heart, Spitfire proceeded to deliver unto the Abomination what Cain Marko would forever after refer to as "a Class-A beat-down". Cain had noticed often over the years that getting thrashed to within an inch of consciousness often seemed to give X-Men their second wind; here was one more example. It wasn't EASY - in fact, it looked damned hard - but the third phase of their fight belonged entirely to Paige. Hulk and Juggernaut just stood there at the top of the factory steps and watched, fascinated, as she ducked, dodged, blocked his blows with her improvised shield, punched, kicked, backhanded, shield-bashed, and otherwise completely overpowered the Abomination. He was still stronger than she was, and still tougher, but now she just didn't care. Either of the men watching could have stepped in and saved her a lot of effort and pain; but neither could bring himself to do it. It would have been like taking the brush from the hand of a fevered artist and saying, "Here, let me finish that for you." It all came down, as such fights often do, to a single exchange of blows, the combatants mustering all their remaining strength and throwing themselves at each other in one last-ditch effort to bring the other low. The Abomination's last punch - a pale shadow of the blows he'd thrown earlier, barely capable of smashing a house - turned aside on Spitfire's shield. She finished the motion of batting the blow away, turned completely around in the process, and laid the metal dome square against the side of his head with all her might in a crushing spinning backhand. The Abomination continued on for two steps, but his body was just moving on momentum and autopilot. He swung slowly to the right, wavered, and then collapsed full-length, completely inert. Paige stood over him for a moment, breathing hard; then she reached across herself, unfastened the chain, and let the Juggernaut's helmet fall to the ground with a hollow BLONG. As the roar of blood in her ears subsided, Paige heard a new sound. It took her several seconds to identify what it was and where it was coming from as she came back out of the focused, almost trance-like state she'd entered in the last phase of the battle. Then she turned to see Cain Marko standing at the top of the factory steps. He was mussed, smudged, and grinning broadly, his blue eyes twinkling in the light of early afternoon as he slowly, rhythmically banged the palms of his hands together. With his metal half-gloves, it made a noise like a pile driver: the Juggernaut's applause. Bruce Banner, back in his human form, joined in, as best a man could while trying to hold up what remained of his pants. Paige felt her face go hot; she smiled and sketched a sardonic little bow, then picked up the Juggernaut's helmet and carried it to him. "I borrowed this," she said, handing it over. "The balance is pretty bad," she added with a smile as she returned the chain to its proper place at her belt. "Well, you -got- him," said Cain with a grin as he tucked the helmet under his arm. "Question is, what the hell are we gonna -do- with hi - ... HEY!" The last was evinced by the fact that, as both Cain and Banner stood there looking at him, the Abomination -vanished-. He seemed to shimmer slightly, as the air above a hot car hood does, and then he was just... not there anymore. "Well," mused Banner as he felt quizzically at the empty spot where the mutated Churchman had been, "that answers -that- question, I suppose... " SUNDAY, APRIL 12, 2409 ENTIRE STATE BUILDING NEW AVALON, ZETA CYGNI Jubilation Lee looked up from her book when she heard the key in the door, and in came Paige, dusty, rumpled, carrying her bag over her shoulder, and looking grumpy. "Hey, roomie," said Jubilee, but Paige ignored her and went to her room. Jubilee eyed the door to Paige's room speculatively as she heard things bumping around inside; then the shower started. Twenty-five minutes later, Paige emerged from her room in underpants and a camisole, her hair still damp and a towel draped around her neck. Without saying a word, she crossed the living room behind Jubilee's armchair and threw herself down on the couch. "So how'd your mission go?" Jubilee asked. She already knew, having been shown a copy of the action report by Vision, but she wanted to hear Paige's version. "It was a COMPLETE. DISASTER," Paige replied heavily. "Oh yeah?" asked Jubilee in a blandly conversational tone. "Yeah. Total. I don't want to talk about it." "OK," said Jubilee agreeably, and she went back to reading "I'm a Stranger Here Myself", laughing occasionally at the funnier bits. As she expected, Paige proceeded to tell her all about it. To hear her tell it, in the grip of the post-action comedown, it was a tale of incompetence and woe salvaged only by the actions of others and a bit of blind luck. Having made herself even more completely miserable in the retelling, Paige covered her face with the towel and finished, "The Chief was nice during my debriefing, but I could tell he thinks I'm a complete fuckup." Jubilee arched an eyebrow. "That was a very me word too," she noted. Paige lifted a corner of the towel and glared. "You're a terrible influence on me," she declared. "I have to move out." Then she dropped the towel, let her arm fall limp, and added in a weary tone, "Tomorrow. I'm too tired and upset to move today." Jubilee nodded, marking her place and setting the book aside as she cast an eye toward the door-security monitor on the coffee table. "Mm-hmm. So the Chief thinks you're a complete fuckup." "Completely." "You figure he's probably getting ready to throw you out?" "Probably," said Paige miserably. "Uh-HUH," said Jubilee thoughtfully. "I get it. That must be why he's out in the hall with flowers." Paige sat upright as if tripped by a lever, the towel falling into her lap. "WHAT?!" Jubilee reached and punched the intercom key on the panel with her big toe. "Hey, Gryph! Hang on, lemme buzz you in." Paige went bright red. "Don't do THAT!" she hissed, almost in a panic. "JubiLEE, ah'm sitting here in mah UNDERWEAR an' you're - " "Relax, Hayseed, I'm sure the Chief's seen a girl in her underwear before," Jubilee replied calmly as she moved her foot and punched the "door open" key with her toe. "I hear he has several kids. Chief! How are ya," she added as the door opened and Gryphon entered. "Make yourself at home," Jubilee went on, gesturing expansively. "Mi casa, su casa, an' all that. Actually, don't you own the building? Don't mind my roommate, she's pretending she doesn't want you to check her out." It was perfectly played. Paige threw the towel at Jubilee out of sheer reflex, only belatedly realizing that in doing so she'd discarded her only cover unless she was willing to start uprooting the couch cushions. She seriously considered it, then settled for sitting bolt upright with her feet tucked under her, her knees clamped together, and her hands shoved flat between them. Her face felt like it was about to catch fire - though she couldn't help but notice that Gryphon's was none too pale either. And he did, indeed, have flowers, a bundle of beautiful yellow Salusian imperial-crowns wrapped up in green tissue paper. He blinked at her for a second, looking momentarily much, much younger than his four centuries, and then seemed to remember he was holding them and handed them over. "A little token," he said, "congratulations and all that." He seemed to have lost his train of thought. Jubilee restarted it for him. "Congratulations for what, Chief?" she asked innocently, flashing Paige a triumphant grin behind his back. "Oh! Uh, right. 'Course," said Gryphon. He smiled, composed himself, and said, "I don't like to do these in my office - there's something awfully formal about it, and... " He trailed off into a fit of actual -giggling- as he realized something. "You know, in the 19 months I've known you, I think is the first time I've managed to get into a situation where you're -not- being formal to me." Paige blinked. "Well, I - uh... " "And it's just as well, since I hope that what I have to say marks the end of that kind of formality in our relationship anyway," he went on. "See... I came up here to congratulate you because... you made it." Paige looked confused. "Made what?" she asked. "You're done with SA7," Gryphon told her, grinning broadly. He held out a hand. "Welcome to the Experts of Justice!" The news was so unexpected (Paige having convinced herself that she'd washed out of the IPO altogther) and so incredibly welcome that Paige completely forgot herself. Before she knew what she was doing, she was off the couch and demonstrating that, although her first boyfriend may indeed not have had most of his face, that didn't mean she hadn't learned somewhere how to kiss a guy. About five seconds later, she realized what she was doing and tore herself breathlessly away. She stumbled back against the couch and sat down abruptly, hands pinned between her knees again. "Oh my GOD sir I am SO sorry," she blurted, her face flaming red again. "I just, I, I couldn't - " Gryphon, who also looked a bit red and flustered again, coughed and smiled. "Er... that's all right!" he said. "We, er, we encourage informality at the Experts level... " (Behind him, nearly on her back in her chair, Jubilee kicked her feet in the air, clutched at her middle, and pleaded almost inaudibly for oxygen, tears streaming down her face.) Still blushing, tremendously relieved that he wasn't mad at the liberty she'd taken, Paige looked up with a shy smile. "Thank you," she said, picking up the flowers from where she'd dropped them on the couch and holding them in the crook of one arm. "You're welcome," Gryphon said. "Well," he went on, "you must be tired... I'll let you get some rest. Take tomorrow off. Your SA1 orientation starts Tuesday morning." Paige nodded. "I'll be there." Gryphon grinned and winked an eye at her, raising the color in her cheeks again. "I know you will," he said. "See you then. Bye, Mallrat," he added, scruffling Jubilee's hair as he passed her chair on his way out. Still unable to speak, she raised a hand weakly and squeaked an inaudible "Bye!" Paige waited until the door closed behind him, then for Jubilee to regain her breath. That took a while. There were several false starts in which Jubilee seemed to recover, then opened an eye, saw Paige looking at her, and went off again. Finally the Asian girl had laughed herself out; she straightened herself up in her chair, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, and rubbed her sore belly, groaning. "You set all that up on purpose, didn't you," said Paige without rancor. "You knew I was getting promoted. You knew I would shower and then come out here half-dressed to tell you all about how awful my weekend was. You called the Chief while I was in the shower and told him now would be a good time to come and tell me, knowing that I'd be sitting here in my underwear." Jubilee considered protesting, then composed herself into an attitude of contrition. "Yes, Mother Superior," she said in a small voice, looking down at her feet. Paige couldn't keep a smile from tugging at her lips as she said, "You know, don't you, that what you did was very wrong?" "Yes, Mother Superior," Jubilee repeated; she couldn't keep herself from smiling either, but both kept playing the roles. "All right," said Paige, standing. "I want you to reflect on your wickedness." "I will, Mother Superior," Jubilee promised. Paige nodded as if satisfied, crossed the living room, then paused by Jubilee's chair and mimicked Gryphon by ruffling the jagged black cap of hair on her roommate's head. "You're a rat," she said happily. "G'night," she added, and went into her bedroom to put the flowers in a vase and take a nap. As she was dropping off to sleep, she suddenly woke again as a realization bubbled to the surface of her fading conscious mind. When she'd completely forgotten herself and hugged and kissed the Chief... ... after a couple of seconds of frozen surprise... ... he'd put his arms around her, too... ... and for just a second, before she tore herself away... ... he'd kissed her back. Well. We encourage informality at the Experts level, eh? That'll be tough; it goes against my instincts. But we'll see what I can do. She curled up, smiling, and went to sleep, Jubilee's little game entirely forgiven. The next afternoon, however, at the Marche, it made too good a conversation-starter not to use just for effect. As Cain was biting into his first burger, Paige said offhandedly, "I'm gonna kill Jubilee." Cain stopped biting and eyed her over the top of the burger, but the pause put him in imminent danger of losing the slab of ground meat from between the bun halves, so he hurriedly finished the operation and set the burger down. "You are?" he asked after chewing and swallowing. "Mm-hmm," Paige said, nodding. She dipped a home fry in ketchup, ate it, and waited. "What'd she do?" Cain asked after the prescribed interval. "Record over your copy of 'Cheltaria' by mistake? Eat your last Dove bar? Tell you that striped shirt makes you look fat?" "She tricked me," Paige said, "into accepting my promotion in my -underwear-." Cain snorted root beer through his nose, then coughed and mopped at his face with his napkin. "You're kidding," he managed through a fit of giggling that was most unbecoming in a man of his size. "It's not funny!" Paige protested, though she felt that outlaw smile sneaking back onto her own face as she said it. "You stop that laughing, Cain Marko!" "I can't help it," Cain said helplessly between laughs. "All that time... he kept trying to get you to loosen up... and the first time he ever sees you at home, out of uniform... it's in your -skivvies-... " He opened one eye and grinned maniacally at her. "I hope they were -clean-," he managed before exploding in raucous laughter. "Cain MARKO!" she repeated, banging a fist on the table. "You pig, of COURSE they were clean. Not the best set I own," she allowed, "but - you - stop that la-ha-laughing!" That was as far as she got before she, too, dissolved into laughter. /* Joe Satriani "The Extremist" _The Extremist_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited and Bacon Comics Group presented UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT LENSMEN TWO-IN-ONE 2408 ANNUAL: "EXCESSIVE FORCE" Paige Guthrie (Spitfire) and Robert Bruce Banner (The Incredible Hulk) with special guest Cain Marko (The Juggernaut) also featuring Benjamin D. Hutchins (Gryphon) Niklaas Furij Emil Blonsky (The Abomination) Luornu Durgo (Triad) and Jubilation Lee (Jubilee) written by Benjamin D. Hutchins feel free to picture it in the art style of Kia Asamiya; or maybe Art Adams would work from a concept planted by Geoff Depew (Mephron) title adapted from a suggestion by Kris Overstreet (Redneck) with notion wranglin' and concept control by the Usual Suspects Bacon Comics chief Derek Bacon (Lightnin) weasel test tech Chris Pinard (Slarti) with much owed to Stan (The Man) Lee Excelsior! Spitfire will return LENSMAN TWO-IN-ONE 2003 ANNUAL "EXCESSIVE FORCE" BACON COMICS GROUP 2003 "Wait. -Does- that striped shirt make me look fat?" "'Course not. It looks great on you." "Good. I like that shirt." E P U (colour) 2003