Kenneth White had been called many things during his nearly fifty years of life. Scientist, hero, nerd, and fat-slob were only some of these labels. The 'Warlord of Staten Island' was the one he found to be most pleasing. The title spoke of power and prestige. It spoke of mastery over men and women. Especially women.
"Lower, my pets," the Warlord almost purred. The body rubs and massages given by his 'personal' staff were his favorite indulgences. In his mind he imagined himself to be like a noble Arab sheik, served by his personally hand-picked women. The women were all very beautiful, scantily clad, and lived only to serve their master.
The Warlord was oblivious to the looks of disgust and disdain the women gave him upon hearing his latest command. To be caught committing such an act was to be put to death or worse. Indeed, doing anything to displease the Warlord would automatically trigger such a punishment. Everyone who served the Warlord knew that their fate rested in his mercurial hands. He reveled in the feeling of power that gave him.
With as much enthusiasm as the women could muster, they carried on with their repulsive task. While the women were beauties, they truly served a beast. The Warlord easily weighed over three hundred pounds and it took four of his servants to satisfactorily bathe and massage him. He smelled too.
Life was good for the Warlord. Finally, he was the one on top. No longer would he have to serve others or suffer their humiliations. Beautiful women obeyed his every command. Scores of scientists labored on his brilliant designs and projects. Kenneth White was the absolute master of all he surveyed.
But this had not always been true. Kenneth White was a brilliant child and even worse, he knew it. His true genius always seemed to go unappreciated. His classmates and instructors were shallow and superficial. All they saw were his plain features and big-boned body. Girls wouldn't give him the time of day and the jocks routinely made his life a living hell. More than once he had been stuffed into a trash can in the cafeteria.
College life was little better. Ken graduated at the top in his class, but he lacked the respect of his peers. "They will respect me!", he swore. "I will force them!" Every injustice done to him, real or imagined would someday be paid back with interest. He would not suffer fools.
Professional life did not turn out as well as the Warlord had planned. He was most skilled in his field and could easily find work. However, he also managed to alienate employer after employer in the process. Still, he did manage to set up a small laboratory for himself with his earnings.
While trying to figure out ways to raise new funding for his latest project, Kenneth heard a news item about the kidnapping of a wealthy heiress. With the sudden emergence of superheroes, Ken realized that he could create weapons just as powerful as any of those so-called heroes. He quickly devised a suit of armor with microprocessor controlled sonic inducers and strength-augmenting motors.
The police had the kidnappers cornered when Ken arrived on the scene. He burst through the back wall of the warehouse and easily defeated the kidnappers and rescued the heiress. Calling himself Resonator, Ken eagerly accepted the reward money and embarked on a career as a superpowered mercenary.
While not the most heroic of heroes, Resonator was no criminal either. His rewards were honestly earned. After a time, Resonator joined with other heroes to form the Guardians. But they never respected him. Resonator quit the team when they decided to pair up with the Avengers. It was an alliance he recognized to be doomed from the very outset. The woman called Black Diamond would someday pay for ruining what had been a good thing.
Resonator wandered for a time, but finally set down roots in New York City and was invited to join the Freedom League, a hero team composed of scientists. This was a much better opportunity for Kenneth as he now had the freedom and financial backing to do all the research he could want. All he had to do was don his Resonator armor regularly and pretend to be a team player.
His teammates hated him; this Resonator knew to be true. Their jealousy was all too apparent. In time, they managed to turn the owner of the Freedom League, Sheryl Campbell, against Resonator. He was fired for what they claimed to be 'unethical' projects.
A free agent once more, Resonator disappeared from sight. Kenneth fell into league with the one man on Earth whose genius rivaled, indeed surpassed his own-- Dr. Destroyer. Willingly, Resonator became an agent of this master criminal. A new, much more powerful armor was quickly designed. Sonic weapons of vast power soon followed as Destroyer prepared to launch his war against the world.
Without a hint of regret or a trace of conscience, Resonator served Destroyer in the great war. It was especially satisfying to personally kill Black Diamond, settling one of his many old scores. Once the war was over, Resonator was awarded a place in the new order. For perhaps the first time in his life, Resonator felt like he truly belonged.
His first position was as a research scientist out in the Mid-West. It was a satisfactory position until that night Muskateer tried to kill him. Enraged over the death of his Avenger teammates, the last Avenger swore to avenge each death in blood. Resonator only barely survived the attack, but did manage to lose an arm in the process. It was eventually replaced with a cybernetic limb. Nightmares of the Avenger's brutal attack still haunted Resonator to this very day.
Fittingly enough, Resonator was reassigned to a new position-- the Warlord of Staten Island. His new complex was housed in the old Campbell Industries International complex. It was another case of sweet revenge in Kenneth's mind. He was assigned his own staff of scientists to work for him. Afforded every luxury that he could imagine. Life was as it now should be.
Until the intruder alert went off. It was only the third time that particular alarm had sounded in the last five years. A tiny point of fear came over the Warlord of Staten Island. In the back of his mind he knew that his nightmare had come back to finish the job. The Warlord slid off the table, tossing his servants aside like toys with his cybernetic arm.
"My lord?", one of the women wondered in confusion.
"Away with you!", the Warlord commanded and the women quickly scampered away. Wrapping a towel around his naked body, the Warlord rushed to the nearest computer station. "Report!!"
"We're under attack, sir! It appears to be one man wielding swords."
That tiny pinpoint of fear suddenly doubled in size. "Send in the sonic tank!" Without waiting for a response, the Warlord went to dress himself. He had to get to his Command Bunker as soon as possible. He would be safe there. Not even someone with the resourcefulness of Muskateer could reach him there.
"Now you check over your shoulder everywhere that you go
Walkin' down the street there's eyes in every shadow
You better take a look around you (come on now)
That equipment you got's so out dated
You can't compete with
#4 - "Murder Incorporated"
Everywhere you look now, Murder Incorporated"
-- Bruce Spingsteen
Being a member of the security force at the Staten Island Complex was normally a very lucrative and very safe position. Until today, no one even considered trying to break into the massive fortified complex anymore, much less assault it in force. The guards had some of the best equipment that could be had and training was done on a daily basis, despite the lack of action. Every once in awhile there would be a brief conflict with a super. Usually they would drive the intruder off easily enough or even manage to bag one now and again.
So you would certainly forgive them on this night if they were overconfident. Until they ran face first into cold hard reality. It was in the simple form of a single man in black. The general alarm had sounded a mere five minutes ago. Already over four dozen guards had fallen. It was as if the Grim Reaper himself had cut a deadly swath among them.
The fourteen guards who were currently on the scene were finding this out for themselves the hard way. This group had attempted to weigh down and overwhelm their intruder with numbers, closing in to hand to hand range. After all, he had simply somehow turned their own firepower and automated defenses against them when they tried to attack from range. The pulse cannons alone had accounted for the indirect deaths of nearly a dozen guards already.
"It's been a long time since I've been able to cut loose like this!" Twin blades flashed in Muskateer's hands as he continued his inexorable assault. "You guys really wanna die, just keep comin'!" In one hand, he held his familiar sabre, in the other he wielded one of the lightsabres that the Scarlet Sabre had designed years ago. Each of the blades cut through armor, skin and bone with barely an effort. After another series of slashes, two more guards lay gutted and bleeding on the ground.
The guards milled about the whirling man in black, trying futilely to make contact. The man previously known as Muskateer had so many targets within striking range it was almost impossible for him to miss. "If any of you bozos actually survive, you need to ask for a raise." Bodies were falling and blood was flying like a bad video game. There was a time when he would have tried to spare their lives. Now he simply didn't care one way or the other. They were nothing more than obstacles in his path. They would be removed, forcibly if necessary.
"Fall back! Fall back!" The directive came from the group's sargent, and the remaining five guards willingly gave ground as quickly as possible. Muskateer stood still in the center of the compound, waiting for the next attack to come. He wasn't even breathing hard yet.
"Unless I've completely lost my touch, this should be about the time they bring out the big guns," Muskateer casually remarked as he turned to survey the blood-soaked battlefield. The guards had retreated to safety and the many turrets mounting the surrounding ramparts were quiet.
Not far away, Muskateer could make out an approaching sound. He instantly knew it to be tank treads. Predictable, as always. Confidently, he stood still with his sword pointed defiantly forward at the oncoming tank. It rounded the corner and began to rotate its turret towards the intruder.
"Ah yes, the heavy artillery," Muskateer said casually, as he started to stride to his left, forcing the turret to continue to rotate towards him. The weapon was huge, much like a mobile building. Its turret alone housed five separate cannon barrels. Muskateer recognized the device as a sonic tank. It was no surprise considering who built it. The weapons were terribly effective during the war. Nothing could stand up to their terrible assault. Still he was seemingly in no hurry to avoid the inevitable attack. He watched carefully, gauging when the war machine would fire.
The cannons required a brief moment of energy build up and this was proceeded by an audible energy screech. Most people didn't have time to take advantage of that information, if they even realized it, but Muskateer had been spending the last days pouring over every scrap of info on Resonator, the Staten Island Complex, and their weapons. As the machine fired all five cannons at once, Muskateer made his move.
Using the energy-line mode of Scarlet's weapon, the intruder in black latched onto a gun turret on the rampart overhead. Hitting the retract button reeled him skyward as the sonic bombardment erupted below him. The concussive force sent him on a wild ride, but his battlearmor shielded him from most of the harmful effects. "And oh so predictable too. Here I thought this was going to be a challenge. How disappointing."
Disconnecting the energy line, Muskateer calmly stored the weapon and reached into a hidden pocket in his outer coat. He pulled a grapefruit sized metal box from some hiding place and made a few adjustments to the device. The sonic tank had retrained its cannon barrels on him, but it was strangely silent. Mentally, he continued his count, "...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,..."
Before he reached twenty, the man in black lobbed the device towards the tank. It hit with a dull thunk and instead of bouncing off simply stuck in place. The sonic tank began its signature recharge sound a moment later, but it was too late. Muskateer started to run down the top of the wall and ducked behind another gun turret as the device began to vibrate. Slowly at first, but rapidly gaining in speed. In mere seconds, the entire tank began to vibrate, as well as the ground beneath it.
Muskateer peered over the turret and watched as the lines of the war machine began to blur. The men inside had likely already lost consciousness which was fortunate for them as their bones were being turned into jelly. Suddenly, the tank forcibly ripped itself apart in a violent explosion, which left a large crater beneath it.
Muskateer viewed his handiwork with a grim, satisfied smile. The weapon was an infamous vibratory bomb, unintentionally developed by his old teammate, Shockwave. "'Bout time one'a them damn things got put to a good use fer once." A moment later, Muskateer slipped into the shadows again and continued on his approach to the inner compound and his ultimate target.
"No!!", the Warlord screamed as he saw his prized sonic tank explode into millions of shards. The image filled the main viewscreen in the command bunker. The Warlord stood in the doorway, stunned from this unbelievable spectacle. He had been certain that his brilliant sonic tank would destroy this one annoyance.
"The tank has been destroyed," one of the half-dozen men in the command center reported.
"I can see that, you fool!!" The Warlord screamed his response and slapped the man with the back of his cybernetic hand. "Out! All of you! Get out of my sight!"
The men were puzzled by the Warlord's request, but without question eagerly obeyed. By the time the Warlord was seated at the main console, the command bunker was deserted. A multitude of emergency lights illuminated the control panel. "Automated defense systems malfunctioning," the Warlord noted to himself. Somehow the computer controlled turrets were under Muskateer's command. They were freely shooting at anyone but the intruder.
"You are clever, I'll give you that," the Warlord continued to mutter as his hands danced over the controls. "But not clever enough! Not even you with all your vaunted weaponry can withstand the resources at my command!!" But somehow, the Warlord didn't seem to totally believe his own ravings.
He purposely cut power to the automated defense grid. There was no point in leaving them active since they were only killing his own troops. That would weaken the installation's defenses somewhat, but it wouldn't be fatal. The Command Bunker operated from a different, independent power source.
At the press of another button, the lone entrance to the bunker was sealed behind ten inches of solid Questonite and then electrified. More controls activated the forcefield around the bunker itself and the anti-personal mines in the hallway leading to the bunker. Other than this single entrance, more than ten feet of reinforced concrete stood between any invaders and the bunker. But in spite of all this protection, the Warlord still did not feel completely safe.
The Bunker now secured, the Warlord turned his attention back to the intruder. He had been momentarily lost from the computer sensors, but he would show up again. There was no possible way he could hide from the equipment forever.
The Warlord activated the communication link to his unit commanders. "This is the Warlord! Unleash the bio-weapons! Bring up the sonic-bombardiers! Destroy this intruder by whatever means possible! I will give the man who brings me his head two months leave and the woman of his choice! I don't care what it takes -- Kill Muskateer!!"
Closing the circuit, the Warlord leaned back in his command chair. All he had to do was play the waiting game. The odds were heavily in the Warlord's favor, but somehow that was of no comfort. Given the way the sonic tank had been dispatched, the Warlord wasn't filled with great confidence. Muskateer most likely had other surprises at his disposal. The fear in the Warlord's belly continued to grow...
The intruder had now penetrated into the inner compound of the Staten Island Complex. Some of his surroundings looked familiar, but a lot of it had been changed since the last time he had visited this place. The last Avenger activated a control and a pop-up display appeared projected on the lenses in his mask. He quickly scanned through the complex map, to verify his position. The mission read-out marked him at only 7 seconds past optimal time. This was turning out easier than he had hoped. The info that Eclypse had provided him with was even more accurate and up to date than he first imagined. Resonator was as good as dead already. He just had to locate where the scumbag was hiding.
Pausing a moment, Muskateer realized that the power to the automated defenses had been cut. Again, predictable. "It's what I would have done," Muskateer said quietly to himself as he ducked into a doorway. He could hear faint footsteps approaching. It was someone trying to be stealthy. Of course, cutting the power to the weapons also shut down some of the sensor nets. Muskateer had counted on this. All the targeting commands of the complex were now inoperable. It only made his job that much easier. He also wouldn't have to defeat any electronic countermeasures along the way. Jaime had already provided a solution to that so far; this response just hurried things along. Resonator was reacting exactly as he had planned.
The Avenger paused a moment and then rushed out from his hiding place, sword flashing. He struck down the first of the approaching figures before it even knew what hit him. There had been five HK's on his trail. Muskateer had been aware of them for some time. Now there were only four.
Diving out of the way, Muskateer cartwheeled away from a pair of sonic screeches. The Hunters had reacted in surprise and by reflex more than anything after the hidden ambush, but were too slow and uncoordinated for their attacks to be effective. Ducking under another attack, as the remaining four HK's closed in on their prey, Muskateer surveyed his opponents.
"Looks like Rez has been doing more experiments, I see," Muskateer casually commented. Apparently, the former hero had infused some of the Hunter-Killers with sonic powers. Two of them had flight capabilities. It wasn't completely unexpected, as Resonator had performed such experiments in the past. These experiments had led to his firing from the Freedom League.
"Freaks for the head freak, if you ask me." The intruder slapped aside a sonic beam with his sabre, almost in disgust. Using the weapon in his other hand, a beam of reddish energy shot out at one of the surprised HK's. It latched around the struggling creature's neck.
Hitting a button on the weapon, Muskateer reeled in the helpless HK, impaling it on his other sabre. "And then there were three." The comment wasn't said disdainfully or with malice. It was simply a fact. To Muskateer, this was just part of his job.
Using the skewered HK as a shield, he absorbed an incoming sonic burst with its lifeless body. Pressing a stud on this weapon sent an electric charge through the body, splattering it apart, but more importantly freeing his weapon once more. The bloody display surprised the HK's and made them pause. They had never met an opponent like this before.
Taking the opportunity, Muskateer flung the lightsabre in his hand. It spun through the air and finding its mark, cleanly removed one of the HK's heads from its shoulders. It took a moment for the body to fall. The remaining two backed quickly away.
"Don't make me chase you, you soulless slugs." Walking toward them, he reached over his back and pulled out a large rifle that had been strapped there. He sighted quickly on the flying HK and fired. The creature tried to evade the attack, but Muskateer's second shot blasted the creature. It blew apart. The remaining HK fled before Muskateer could aim at it. "Chicken. Or maybe just smart." Muskateer kept the rifle in his hands and continued to move on, pausing only to reclaim the lightsabre.
The laser rifle had been originally designed by the Hanged Man. There were only a few in existence. This one had once belonged to Lazerblast. When he was killed in battle, Muskateer had claimed it. He only used it when necessary, since it tended to be messy. Like in the fight with Grond. The man-beast had expected an easy fight. Unfortunately for Grond, it was right. "'Ol butt ugly probably still doesn't realize he's dead yet." A few displays of this firepower would be enough to sway the next wave of opponents, Muskateer reasoned. He only had so many energy clips left, but what was the point of this whole endeavor if he couldn't have a little fun in the process.
Muskateer broke into a trot as a number of hostile blips appeared on his pop-up radar image. The array indicated that they were flying. The last Avenger didn't even aim the rifle in his hands, simply firing it from his chest. The incredible burst of energy blasted the lead scooter, disintegrating it and the rider aboard in a destructive and impressive blast of power. Lazerblast always did go for overkill after the Guardians disbanded.
The remaining eight flyers quickly swerved and evaded as shrapnel filled the air, most yelling expletives as they went. The sonic bombardiers were the Warlords shock troops. They went in like a highly mobile blitzkrieg, blasting and terrorizing the enemy before they even knew what hit them. Their flying scooters were quick, evasive and well-armored. The sonic weaponry was terrible to witness; a sonic explosion which often dazed and disoriented those who weren't immediately dispatched by the concussive force. The survivors of the first barrage were usually easy pickings.
Today was a different matter. When the general alarm went out, the sonic bombardiers did not even flinch. It wasn't their concern. That was for the regular guards. The intruder alarm had mobilized a few minutes later and the troopers figured that a full attacking force had somehow made it to their doorstep unannounced and undetected. It was even more surprising that they had only a single target. All this commotion because of one man?
They had no other indication of his presence. Radar, sonar, heat signature, nothing lent a clue as to the intruder's whereabouts, until the surprise attack, which claimed their point man.
"What the hell are we up against?", one trooper muttered in disgust as they regrouped the squadron.
"I still have no firm target location," the spotter commented to her squadron leader. "We're getting multiple blips, but none of them are stable."
"Keep on it, Sanchez", the squadron commander barked. "Do it by the numbers, people."
"We have no visual either," another of the pilots reported, nervousness evident in his voice.
"Maintain your spread and watch each other's back. Then frag this sucker."
"Frag this." From seemingly nowhere, the cloaked intruder in black was on the back of the commander's scooter. In one quick move, he had broken the man's neck. As the squadron commander's lifeless body dropped to the ground, the last Avenger took the scooter controls and quickly gained altitude. "Funny, I'd have figured I'd be worth more than two months' vacation."
"Holy crap! Get him!" The sonic bombardiers scurried to form up and get a firing angle on the mysterious intruder. He even had information from their secured communication's channels. Sonic explosions rang out, ripping huge chunks out of whatever they hit, but unfortunately, for them, none of the blasts found their intended mark.
"Tag. You're it." Muskateer arched his commandeered scooter into a loop-the-loop and sent it hurtling straight at another of the flying machines. At full throttle, the targeted scooter was unable to avoid the collision. The pilot's eyes grew wide under his visor. Muskateer leapt away as his scooter smashed into his target. The two machines exploded in a violent crash.
As Muskateer hurtled toward the ground, he flipped himself and clipped another rider on the way down, pulling the man from his seat. The two men crashed hard into the ground, Muskateer using the bombardier as a slight cushion to the impact. Muskateer's armor absorbed most of the rest of the force. Not far away, the pilotless craft slammed into a nearby building and erupted in a powerful explosion, ripping a hole in the building and starting a fire in the process.
Facing a land-bound foe in the open, the sonic bombardiers were now in their element. They reformed and opened fire, filling the compound with a precise spacing of blasts, specifically designed to overlap and completely saturate an area. It was with this tactic that the forces were so effective.
After the horrible sound of the multiple sonic explosions had faded, the troopers surveyed the area as they did a fly by. The compound was littered with impact craters and debris.
"Any sight of a body?"
"Negative. No trace."
"I'm not surprised. Nothing can stand up to a salvo like that," one of the troopers bragged. A second later he was blasted off his scooter by a powerful electric taser-like blast. All of the sonic bombardiers followed the blast to its source. To their overwhelming surprise, the intruder was on the roof of the burning building.
"How could anything survive the sonic bombardment?", one of the remaining troopers wondered in amazement.
"He's not human...", another stated, her voice cracking with fear. The man once known as Muskateer smiled at that. His attack was meant to cause panic and eventually terror as much as lead him to his prey. The name Avenger had once been only mentioned in hushed whispers. Everyone would soon know and fear that name again. Calmly, the intruder fired a plasma pistol and blew another rider from his perch with a dazzling burst of energy.
As the remaining sonic troopers closed in again, more tentative this time, they tried to surround their elusive foe. But the soldiers had to stare in utter amazement, as they watched their target suddenly become engulfed in a huge patch of complete blackness. Nothing seemed to be able to penetrate the area. Even light seemed to be absorbed into the dark.
The sonic bombardiers slowed and passed over the field, gaining altitude so as to avoid the blackness and whatever imagined horrors must lie within. A short distance away on a nearby parapet, the man known as Muskateer pulled yet another mechanical device from his stowed gear.
"This Shadow Cloak sure came in handy," Muskateer commented idly to himself as he entered data into the hand held device. It was yet another tool he had salvaged from a fallen hero. This time from the late Sorceress. "Those losers will never know what hit 'em. Just like this..."
On his command console, the Warlord of Staten Island watched in amazement as the battle unfolded. "There he is, you fools!", the Warlord shouted into his microphone, but the warning came too late. "Get him before..." The Warlord trailed off as he watched the avenging ghost thumb a control on some device he carried. A moment later, all the power to the sonic bombardiers had been cut. Somehow, this man had short-circuited all his devices from afar. The sonic scooters dropped like rocks, taking their pilots with them.
The Warlord screamed in frustration as he watched his troops plummet from the sky. Slamming his fists on the console, he shouted his consternation, "No! No! No!" His hands gripped what little remained of his hair, as he continued to stare, wide-eyed, at the screen. The avenging ghost looked back at him directly. He was probably smiling under that mask, the Warlord fretted. Then his blood seemed to freeze in his veins and a chill went down his back.
The intruder in black pointed at him, ran a finger across his throat and then a moment later, as he gathered his dark cloak about him, simply disappeared from the screen.
"Where is he!?", the Warlord shouted to the empty room. His eyes darted wildly across the multitude of monitors and camera views. The Warlord's heart was pumping wildly, his pulse raced. Beads of sweat ran down his face. Everything that he had thrown at this persistent invader had been defeated.
The bio-weapons-- living beings who had been installed with sonic powers-- had proven ineffective. The armor that Muskateer wore was highly resistant to sound-based attacks, limiting the effectiveness of the bio-weapons. In a straight up fight, they were little more than cannon fodder against the last Avenger.
The sonic-bombardiers fared little better. The smaller and more maneuverable versions of the sonic cannon should have finished off the invader minutes ago had the operators known what they were doing.
"Why am I surrounded by incompetents!!', the Warlord cried out as he slammed his fists on the control panel. "Fools and imbeciles, each and every one of them! They all deserved to die! Is it my fault that they cannot make proper use of the tools I give them? Is my genius to always be so misunderstood?"
"Still, I am safe here. No one can touch me. No one at all." The Warlord laughed a nervous laugh. All he had to do was wait this out. He was perfectly safe. Muskateer could never penetrate the Command Bunker. Never in a million years.
"This was not part of the plan," Muskateer lamented briefly. He had just exited from the Shadow Dimension that was accessed by use of the Shadow Cloak. Although he never put a lot of stock in magical equipment, this particular item was quite useful. He didn't have the full range of effectiveness as Tanya, the Sorceress, had once had. For one thing, she had the ability to see into the real world, while still traveling in the Shadow Dimension. He was forced to travel blind.
A familiar building loomed before him. He stared at the doorway for a few moments, lost in thought and contemplating his options. Housed in this building had been the living quarters of Jessica Flynn, once the Scarlet Sabre and also his former lover.
A voice in the back of his mind warned him to continue on his mission. Vengeance was all that mattered now. He didn't have time for this.
"Jess," his heart cried out in almost a whisper. Muskateer pulled the lightsabre from his belt and gazed at it. It was all that he had left of her, an effective tool, but perhaps not the best source of happy memories. Not that he had many of those left anymore anyway.
The last Avenger looked away and surveyed the compound area. "The bloated wart hog's gonna die anyway. What's a few minutes? It'll just make 'im sweat it out more anyway." Ducking inside the opening, he quickly moved through this once familiar territory.
Not unexpectedly, a few things had changed, but the basic layout of the building was the same as he remembered. It was only a few moments until he was standing before the door to her old suite.
"I'm not sure what I'm looking for," he thought to himself, "but I'd be pissed later on if I didn't at least take a look around. After all I am here already," he thought, trying to convince himself.
His romance with the Scarlet Sabre had been tragically short-lived. It hadn't been perfect, but they had an awful lot in common. Jess had been as different from Gwen as night was to day. She was far more down to earth than the Enchantress had been. Jessica had earned her wealth by way of her hard work and didn't have anything handed to her for free. She also shared many common interests with Muskateer-- computers, sword fighting, risk taking, and a general free-wheeling approach to life. Jessica was not a great beauty like the Enchantress, nor was she as sensual as Glitter/Silver Spectre had been. But she was the one woman that Muskateer felt the most at ease with.
The playful banter that the two had engaged in since they first met took far more serious meaning as the months passed. The pair had worked together on many occasions, but it was not until after the deaths of Muskateer's other loves that the relationship finally managed to turn serious. Overwhelmed by VIPER agents, the heroes found themselves fighting back to back, struggling for their very lives. They defeated the enemy in the end, of course. Turning, they looked toward each other and finally realized that they could be just more than friends. They shared their first embrace; their first kiss standing amongst the fallen VIPER Agents. The weeks that followed were among the happiest in Muskateer's life.
Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside. It was unlit, but he had expected that. He had nightsight lenses in place in his mask anyway. Looking around, he could see that the furnishings were different from what he remembered as he crossed the first room. Personal effects, none of which had belonged to Jessica, were placed about. Clearly someone else had been inhabiting these quarters.
As that realization hit him, he stopped in place. A quick glance suggested that the occupant or occupants were also female and probably current residents. He touched a control near the temple of his mask and readout from infrared sensors appeared on his pop-up display.
This room was empty except for him. He silently moved toward the sleeping quarters. Intensifying the scan's sensitivity quickly indicated a living presence beyond the door along the far wall. Muskateer dropped to a crouch and pulled his sabre from its scabbard. His gloved hand hit the access code and the door slid open. Through the now open door, he could see that whoever was in here was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide. The heat signature indicated that they had crouched behind the bed.
Muskateer stood up and entered the doorway, blocking any hope of sneaking past him. He waited a few moments without saying a word, knowing that they were hoping he would just go away. "I know you're in here", he said finally. From across the room he could hear the sound of soft sobbing. He hit the light switch and light flooded the room instantly. He continued to wait, confidant that he was in no direct danger himself.
A few moments passed and then there was movement. Slowly, cautiously, a woman peered out from behind her hiding spot, her arms raised over her head. "Please don't kill me...", the woman begged. "I only work for him. He forced me to. I,... I didn't have any choice."
Muskateer regarded the woman curiously. "Stand up," he said, so forcefully she had little choice but to comply. He remained in the doorway. Something about the woman was familiar. He didn't recognize the face, he decided finally. "What's your name?"
"Sandra... Sandra Anderson. I don't want to die..." The tears were still flowing freely down the face of the shaking woman. She was above average in height with short brown hair, green eyes, and a slender build.
"What do you do here?" The interrogation continued as he tried to place the faint connection.
"What?... I mean, I... I engineer and design weapon parts. Whatever the Warlord tells me to do..." She wiped her face with one hand and then quickly put it back in the air. "He... he'd kill me if I didn't."
"The scumbag you work for is as good as dead." That brought a momentary look of surprise, followed by confusion. She knew who he was and that they had encountered each other in the past. The Warlord had spoken of him often as well. Much of her work was specifically to guard against his inevitable arrival.
"How many supers have you killed?"
"What?! I... I..." She fumbled for words at the sudden accusation.
"You make weapons. We're at war. Your weapons kill heroes, do they not?" He paused for a moment for effect. "How many have you killed?"
"I don't know... I didn't have a choice... My life was on the line...!" The woman was almost hysterical, as the questioning turned threatening once more. "What was I supposed to do?!", she nearly screamed in frustration, before getting quiet again. "Without my armor," she continued in almost a whisper, "there was nothing I could do... I'm no hero."
That piqued Muskateer's interest. He knew there was something familiar about her.
"When I was captured," Sandra continued her desperate explanation, "they didn't kill me right away, since I wasn't a mutant. I had skills they could use. It was still early in the war."
"That was before every hero the HPA could get their bloody hands on were exterminated," Muskateer nearly growled.
"That's right. I always hoped it would someday end."
"It's going to end soon." Sandra gulped at the threat. She imagined it was aimed at her, as well as the Warlord.
"I... I can tell you where he is," she offered, getting more desperate. "I have no love lost for that fat slob, either. Please don't kill me, Muskateer. I'll do anything you want." She looked down, hoping for pity from this menacing agent of vengeance.
Muskateer thought for a moment. She had killed to stay alive, but it was no different than what he had done. What he was doing even now. And her information could prove useful in ending this nuisance quickly, once and for all. He also finally made a connection to her voice.
"Alright, Ladybug," she looked up, not having been called that name in many years. "You have a deal. Your life for Resonator's location."
"The fat pig's probably holed up in his Command Bunker," she offered, in relief. "But that place is a fortress itself. No one can get close to the place, much less get inside."
Muskateer smiled. "Leave that to me", he said simply.
Another alarm went off from a nearby console. The Warlord inadvertently screamed in surprise and terror from the signal. It was another phantom appearance from Muskateer. He momentarily let one of the many sensors in the complex detect him, only to fade away a moment later.
"He's-- he's not human," the Warlord maniacally laughed to himself as he leaned back in his chair, his own personal terror mounting. "He's a ghost-- an avenging ghost out to kill me! But he can't get to me. I'm safe-- yes, safe here in a womb of my own genius."
Yet another alarm sounded and went dead a moment later. "He's playing with me. Trying to frighten me. I am the Warlord! I fear no man!!" But not even the Warlord believed his own momentary attempt at bravery anymore.
Sweating profusely now, the Warlord eyed the monitors waiting for his foe to appear. "He's out there-- somewhere. But I'm safe in here. He can't touch me. No one can touch me." Still the screens remained empty. Everything outside the bunker was horrifyingly quiet.
In a combination of fear and rage, the Warlord stood and shouted. "Where are you!?! Show yourself, you coward!!"
"If you insist," answered a nearby voice as cold as the grave.
The Warlord started to turn, the blood draining from his face in complete realization. A moment later, that blood would be splattered on the equipment in the impregnable Command Bunker...
