Location Unknown

American Eagle awoke as he felt ice cold water splash against his face. He blinked his eyes furiously, trying clear the fog of his mind. He tried to wipe the water from his face, but his arm refused to respond. Within a few seconds, he realized why.

American Eagle saw that he was bound spread eagle. His arms were encased in thick metal manacles that ran the length of his wrist. He glanced towards his feet, and saw they were likewise restrained.

“American Eagle.”

Jason looked forward, and felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Commando and Gauntlet were standing just across the room, surrounded by a dozen men in yellow uniforms that resembled those used by Bee Keepers. The men might have looked completely ridiculous, were it not for the advanced weaponry in their hands.

To no surprise, both Gauntlet and Commando were restrained. Commando’s arms were bound behind his back, while Gauntlet’s weapon was encased in almost seamless metal. A keypad on the wrist was the only thing that indicated that the metal functioned as an advanced restraint devise.

American Eagle looked into the reflection of his immaculately polished restraints, and saw a man sitting at a computer consul several feet away. His stomach clenched when he saw a dial directly next to the consul, his imagination didn’t have to go

“Commando, Gauntlet, your attention please?”

American Eagle turned his head to the speaker. The man wasn’t like the other agents. Instead of the yellow uniforms the other agents wore, this man wore a simple white lab coat, white pants and blue shirt. He looked every bit a lab technician and not a mad scientist, except for his pale skin that looked as if it might burn in true sunlight.

“My name is Doctor Theo Adam. I’m the founder of RAID,” he began, “AIM, we feel, has been too complacent in the world, and that’s something we intend to fix that.”

“Hey, if it ain’t broke…”offered Commando.

Dr. Adam ignored him, “To that end, we need information. We weren’t able to claim much when we left our AIM brothers. But luck has blessed us with both you and a powerful ally. But that’s not enough.”

“Still need a prom date?”

Gauntlet gritted his teeth and bore a hole in the floor with his eyes. Provoking captors with hostages was one of the dumbest moves in the book.

Dr. Adam nodded to a man behind American Eagle, and almost instantly thousands of volts of electricity washed over his skin, and he screamed like a wounded animal.

“The two of you have, combined, over forty years experience in the United States military. What I want from each of you is your knowledge on your fellow superhumans in the service. What their powers are, their codenames, every last detail that you know or remember. Otherwise…”

American Eagle roared as even more energy washed over his body.

Gauntlet gritted his teeth and looked away. He considered American Eagle a friend, and even if he wasn’t, torture of any kind churned his stomach. Worse was the fact that he knew that there was nothing he could do to help. Even if it was his own mother up there instead of Eagle, Gauntlet knew he could never give these bastards the information they wanted. It was too dangerous for the country and too dangerous to the servicemen and their families.

“Have you two anything to say?”

Commando took one look at American Eagle, watching as the hero screaming convulsed as energy ran across his skin, and then looked to Dr. Adam.

“Your interrogation technique really needs work,” observed Commando.

“Oh, give it time,” Dr. Adam smiled as he left the cell, the screams of a hero trailing him out.

Waiting for him outside were three identical faces. It was often said that, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. So Dr. Adam took to cloning, and created three copies that, which a little invasive brain surgery, followed his every command with the same intelligence and attention to detail that he would apply to any situation. They each wore a different number around their neck, the only way to tell them apart.

“Adam One, status report on the prisoners.”

The first clone nodded, “All seven have been dealt with. Besides the U.S. operatives, Junta is in a private cell. Guishen is locked in a room with a projecting empath as we speak while Kamau is in a special stasis cell. The room has been specially treated to avoid any dust build up.”

“That’s only three,” said Dr. Adam, “what about the seventh?”

“He…he’s dead,” replied the clone, “according to our scanners, the Frenchman, Comte Du Nuit, had a sudden heart attack after we gassed him.”

“Damn it,” muttered Dr. Adam, angry that he now had one less hostage and one less potential soldier, “I assume the body’s in a cooler? We should autopsy it later, see how far along they are with their version of the super soldier serum. Adam Two, how are the engines?”

“There are some unanticipated drag issues,” answered the clone. He then coughed, hacking as if a swarm of insects were swirling in his lungs.

“Do you need to go to medical?” Dr. Adam could never stand to see himself suffer.

“No sir, it’s just a bug,” for better or worse, the clone possessed the original’s work ethic, “seems like someone’s sitting on my lungs at times, though.”

“Then if you’re not going to medical, get down to the engine room. It doesn’t take our IQ to know how important it is to keep this place afloat. Make sure we keep moving, to minimize our chances of discovery.”

Adam Two saluted, and walked off, all the while coughing and hacking, trying to clear his lungs.

“Adam Three, what about our benefactor slash partner? Did he say when he’d be by for an inspection?”

“He said he intends to make an inspection in about an hour, sir.”

“Good, good. Make sure we have a beacon for his teleporter and find me in about half an hour. In the interim, head down to medical and have scrub team ready,” Scrub team was AIM’s euphemism for brain washing specialists, “in the mean time, I’m going to have a little word with Kamau. I think he could be turned to our side with the right words. One, see to the prisoner’s security. Two, prep the Frenchman’s body for autopsy. Dismissed!”

Both clones nodded in acknowledgement and marched off. But only one went to their assigned station.

---

As Danny Vincent, AKA Junta, awoke, he began evaluating his situation before he was even fully conscious of the fact that he’d been kidnapped and restrained.

By the time he could form a coherent thought, Junta had already identified a flaw in their restraint system.

Sure, he was bound to a metal chair loaded with high tech features that negated his gravity powers and restrained both his arms and legs. And they had definitely taken all his concealed weapons. But his captors had unknowingly left Danny with his most powerful weapon.

Danny opened his eyes and smiled as he saw two guards standing watch.

“Uhhh…what the…?” Danny sounded both genuinely surprised and annoyed as he ‘awoke’, and then glanced towards his two guards, “oh, this is real cute. So no one got the memo, huh?”

The pair of security guards looked at one another, and then back to Junta.

“Umm…what?”

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” Junta took a deep breath, “Omega, alpha thirty sigma. That’s the code.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Junta threw his head back and laughed. The laughter was good natured but dry, something he’d had plenty of time perfecting in his career as a spy, “This is just great, really…great. Look guys, I’m on your side. That code I gave you just now was supposed to verify it.”

“They…they didn’t inform us of that,” said one guard.

Junta shook his head, “I swear, they never think to tell the guys on the ground. ‘Need to know’ applies to the people carrying out the mission too, damn idiots.”

“We’re not stupid,” snapped one guard, “how do we know you’re not lying?”

Junta shook his head, “Look, all I have is the code. Would you give me your name if you ran this thing? Look, just go grab your superior and we’ll get this settled, okay?”

“Oh, you’d just love it if we left the room, wouldn’t you?”

“Just one of you go, idiot,” Junta sighed, “I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

“Give me one good reason!”

“Fine,” Junta narrowed his eyes as he glared at the two guards and spoke in a growl just barely louder than a whisper, forcing the two to strain to hear him, “because I’m a God damn superhuman killer and infiltration expert. Gravity is my bitch and even a brain dead slug like you can realize what an advantage that is. So when, not if… but when, I’m freed, I’ll add the two of you to my contract. I’ll kill you because you forced me to stay locked in this chair, and your superiors will let me because you were incompetent and I’m a bigger asset.”

“Now!” Junta shouted, startling the two low ranked RAID agents, “get your superior down here, this instant, and I won’t kill you. Sound fair?”

“Of course!” One guard scrambled out, and Danny smiled inwardly. Bound and shackled, and he still had them right where he wanted them.

---

Paul Jackson took pride in his position within RAID. To date, he was their first superhuman recruit, and his powers ensured that regardless of how many more were joined their ranks, he would be the most important. He would be their leader, their rock.

Jackson believed that, because he was gifted with the ability to project any emotion he wanted. In the past, he had used his powers to whip entire neighborhoods that had simply been enjoying a summer’s day into a bloody frenzy just to see if he could. He joined AIM, and later defected with RAID, because he knew that they needed someone like him far more than he needed them. He was, without a doubt, an asset, who could increase their power ten fold, if used correctly.

Like right now. He currently had the entirety of his power focused on one man, the Chinese agent known as Guishen. Paul was projecting enough emotion to drive a dozen men to suicide.

Guishen, stripped of his weapons, was on his hands and knees, his face buried in his hands. Paul could only imagine the pain his victim was feeling. But he put that aside and remembered the lines he’d been given, lines designed to cement his victim’s emotional destruction.

“They left you. After all your service, they sent you here to die,” Paul said calmly, “and why? Because you did what they asked!”

Guishen didn’t respond, though his tormentor wasn’t surprised. Though Guishen wasn’t restrained in the typical way, he was still physically helpless. High tech metal bands on his wrists and legs prevented the superhuman from performing any physical violence and a band around his head sealed off his telepathic powers. If Guishen made any attempt at violence, he’d be stopped before he moved an half an inch.

The theory (and hope) was, that Guishen would look kindly upon this minor freedom and might tip his opinion of RAID in their favor. But it was an illusion of freedom, nothing more.

“Is that fair? Is that right?”

“…no,” whispered Guishen.

“Join us, Guishen. We will never turn on you simply because of who you are, because you did we asked of you!”

Guishen took a deep breath and sighed, “No, you won’t.”

Paul Jackson paled as he saw that Guishen hadn’t shed so much as a single tear. He projected wave after wave of crippling depression, enough to kill the population of a small island, as the Chinese agent calmly stepped forward undaunted.

“Don’t…you can’t hurt me!” Jackson snapped finally. He tried desperately to reassert control, unwilling to call for help and lose face in front of his superiors, “your restraints won’t let you hurt a fly!”

“…but you’re not a fly.”

---

“Arrgh!”

Commando winced as he heard American Eagle’s screams, the sound echoing in his skull.

“Okay, this is a waste of time,” he muttered, “Eagle, enough already. This is getting old.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” snickered one of the guards.

“Damn it, shut up,” Gauntlet growled under his breath, “we don’t need you makin’ things worse here!”

“Seriously, this ain’t funny no more!” Commando popped his neck, “I’m hungry, I ain’t had my beauty sleep and he sounds like a little girl when he screams! So lets can the act and get out of here already!”

“Commando…” Gauntlet crooked his head to the guards, who were beginning to grip their weapons and stand up straighter.

“Oh fine,” Commando sighed. He slumped a little bit…and leapt up as he swung outwards with his foot, catching three RAID soldiers in the chest.

“Shoot him, Shoot…!” The guard’s orders were cut off as Gauntlet swung his steel encased arm into the man’s chest and crushed his rib cage. Though the dampener that RAID had fitted over his weapon negated both its strength and energy projection, the thing still weighed several hundred pounds, and Gauntlet had no trouble moving it.

“Hell,” American Eagle saw the scene unfolding, and without hesitation tore himself free of the restraints.

“…how?” whispered the man who’d been ‘torturing’ American Eagle for the past half hour.

“I’m stronger than I look.”

Between the three heroes, the RAID guards were dispatched within only a minute and a half, with only one still conscious.

“You’ll never get out of here! The second you broke free, a tactical alert team was dispatched! You step out you’ll be turned into free floating atoms!”

“Good to know,” Commando smashed his boot into the man’s face, and then spun around so that his back (and bound arms) were to American Eagle, “you’re going to have to be my skeleton key, buddy.”

“How’d you know I was faking?” American Eagle reached out and tore the metal restraints in two.

“You scream like a little girl,” Commando answered. He rubbed his sore wrists, “I’ve heard people scream ‘cause of torture. Done it once or twice myself. You…you ain’t sound nothin’ like them.”

“I was hoping they might give up something. Stupid interrogators sometimes give up more than they get without realizing it,” American Eagle ripped asunder the devise constraining Gauntlet’s arm, “plus, I really didn’t want them figuring out they weren’t using enough juice. They might have amped it before I could get out.”

“Boy said there people waitin’ for us outside the door,” warned Commando, “we gonna keep them waiting?”

---

In fact, there were two, four man assault teams waiting for the heroes. One team was carrying nothing of energy casting weapons. The heroes would get from them super-heated plasma, high intensity lasers, searing light and absolute zero temperatures. The second team had projectile weapons loaded with diamond or adamantium tipped bullets that would rend the flesh from the Hulk himself.

The two teams stood twelve feet from the door, their muscles taut and fingers inches from the trigger. Each and everyone of them was ready to unleash enough firepower to destroy a battalion the second the metal doors slid open to unveil their targets.

The assault squads were focused so intently on the door, they were caught completely flat footed when the wall five feet down exploded outwards. Gauntlet stepped through with a smirk, and swept his armored hand outwards. With a single extended blast, the heavily armed teams were left sprawled on the floor in defeat, moaning in agony.

“We should head to the command center,” said American Eagle, “shut this place down and maybe call for help while we’re at it.”

“I need to get topside,” Gauntlet stated, “my weapon has a unique energy signature that can be picked up half way around the world, whether they’re scanning for it or not. A little Morse code to give them a sit rep and we’ll have cavalry in no time!”

“Good idea,” Eagle nodded, “you focus on that. Me and Commando will focus on keeping these guys busy. Maybe free whoever else these bastards have.”

“Understood,” Gaunlet paused to salute, and then took off.

“Commando…”American Eagle looked over his shoulder to see Commando searching the defeated security team, “…just grab a weapon already and lets go!”

“Hold on, I need a sec!” answered Commando. He looked over the weapons, laser pistols, modified M-16s to shoot adamantium bullets and countless others. Weighing the threat the enemy posed, versus his weapons preference, Commando reached down and made his choice.

“Okay, ready. This’ll be a fair fight now.”

American Eagle looked at his comrade who, of all the weapons present, had simply chosen two jagged pieces of metal. He thought about

“Well, your funeral macho man.”

The two raced down the hall, but hadn’t made it for before American Eagle signaled them to stop. Silently, he motioned to a door several feet away.

“What?” whispered Commando, barely loud enough to be heard.

“One of the guys from the island is in there,” answered Eagle, “he’s alone and bleeding though.”

American Eagle grabbed the door by the handle and door the thing from it’s hinges. American Eagle took one look inside, and then had to look away as he struggled for control of his stomach.

Inside was the Chinese agent Guishen. His mouth was covered in blood that dripped down his chin, like a vampire who had just feasted. At his feet was his interrogator, the man’s throat

“Thank you for opening the door,” Guishen said evenly, and held up his restraints, “would you kindly remove these?”

Commando took a moment to examine the scene, glanced at American Eagle and shrugged, “Well, at least he won’t have to stop for lunch”

---

Junta smiled as he saw Adam One stomp into the cell, a look of irritation plastered on his face.

“My subordinates tell me you claim to be a double agent,” the man scowled at Junta, “but if you are, I’m afraid that you’re out of luck. We only have one man inside Excalibur’s organization, and it isn’t you.”

Figured as much, Junta thought to himself. RAID moved with too much skill and precision, while still managing to be complete idiots. A mole was the only logical explanation, “If you think I’m lying, then why’d you come?”

“To reassure the men guarding you, to be honest. The last thing I need is them freeing you under the delusion that they’re helping RAID. “

“Good thinking,” complimented Junta, “but you still screwed up. Code omega eight!”

Adam One looked down at Junta with a raised eye brow, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“To be honest, it means more to me,” Danny stated, “see, I just activated a self destruct mechanism in my gravity belt. Alpha Ten! You know the one that prevents everything around me from getting sucked into a miniature black hole and consuming a six block radius?”

“You’re bluffing!” Adam One smirked confidently, “we examined your belt before we restrained you. There is no self destruct mechanism!”

“That you found. Omega Five!” Danny continued, “see, the mistake you made is assuming that you know the devise that’s keeping me alive better than I do.”

“My I.Q….”

“Is pretty damn impressive, I’m sure,” Danny interrupted, “I’m sure you know gamma bombs, death rays and neural nets…delta eight!...but here’s what you forgot. I need to know the ends and out of my gravity belt because my life depends on it. To you, it’s just an interesting trinket. To me, it’s the only thing keeping me alive for well over a decade now. So ask yourself…Mr. One is it? Who do you really think knows the devise strapped around my waist better?”

Adam One felt his heart pounding, but still put on his best poker face, “Am I really to believe that you’d kill yourself like that?”

Junta looked at the man, a deadly serious expression etched on his face, “The only difference between death by black hole and slavery is how many of you I take with me. But then, that’s up to you. Who knows? I might survive…delta six!...we are talking about my powers, after all. So it’s less suicide than a calculated gamble.”

Adam One loosened his collar, trying to think what to do. Being a clone didn’t mean he didn’t have a sense of self preservation.

“Call or fold, buddy? Because I think I’m beginning to forget the codes …”

---

Several minutes earlier

The doors slid open and Dr. Theo Adam admired the sight before him. Six men, three on each side sat before monitors. The African Warrior known as Kamau hovered inside of a force field that wouldn’t allow his feet to touch the ground and was strong enough to hold a battalion of men.

“Good morning, Kamau,” Dr. Adam said with a genuine smile, “forgive the cliché, but please believe me when I say I really do apologize for the accommodations. Given your impressive reputation, I have to take certain measures to project both myself and my organization, even if I am confident that we can come to an understanding.”

“And what understanding would that be?” Kamau’s eyes bore down on Dr. Adam with an intensity that the scientist had never encountered before. The warrior smiled a fake, disinterested smile. The four scars that slashed down over his lips stretched ever so subtly, and for a moment Dr. Adam thought he was speaking to an avatar of death itself.

Dr. Adam recovered quickly enough, though and remembered his sales pitch.

“I would like you to act as RAID’s principle agent. As we saw with Hydra and their use of the mutant Wolverine, an organization like ours can flourish with a strong, powerful agent holding our banner.”

“And why would I ever join you?”

Dr. Adam stiffened, “Because we’re willing to pay you twice what you made as a member of the Leopard’s Claw. We’re not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before. In fact, under us, your work load will be far lighter and work…easier on the stomach. And because…a man like you doesn’t change.”

“You may be right,” Kamau conceded, his tone even.

“Plus, I honestly do respect you. Too few superhumans know how best to use their powers, even with a western education. Your chain, for instance, may look like steel, but is filled with rocks, diamond and silica. That’s how you control it, isn’t it?”

Kamau nodded.

“Know that I speak from my heart when I saw I respect you and would be honored our organization. It is within our means to force you, but I’d rather not.”

Kamau shook his head, “To be blunt, I cannot return the respect. And even if I weren’t trying to change my ways, I could never join an organization as sloppy as yours. However, I will match your respect with mercy. Free me now, and I will kill no one.”

“My respect may have been a little premature,” Dr. Adam scoffed, “you’re a deadly mutant, Kamau. But we took precautions. We took your weapons, that cell can easily withstand your strength and there isn’t a single mote of dust in this room you could use against us.”

“You are correct about only one thing. This cell is indeed too strong for me,” Kamau narrowed his eyes at the scientist, “however, I am not unarmed. You missed my diamond blades. A natural mistake, I suppose,” Kamau held his hands out and Dr. Adam felt his heart race as he watched Kamau’s infamous blades literally slide into the warrior’s hands, “because I keep them within me.”

“Even…even with your weapons, you’re no threat to me!” Dr. Adam just barely managed to stammer out, “that force field was designed to hold someone with twice your strength!”

“I don’t need to step outside this cell to kill you,” Kamau stated evenly, “you left me alone for hours. So I focused my powers and seized control of all the silica in the room.”

“Now I know you’re bluffing,” Dr. Adam stood up straight and smiled, “this room uses nanites to remain completely dust free. Every grain of sand is removed from the room and flushed down the waste system.”

“That is true….Kamau nodded, “but you were too clever for your own good. You overlooked one simple thing.”

Kamau pointed to the ceiling, and Dr. Adam looked up, confident that the man was merely bluffing. All he saw was were the florescent lights that illuminated the room, and for a moment the felt confident he was right.

Then he remembered something.

“Oh God, the lights…the lights are made out of glass…” Dr. Adam felt his blood run cold.

“Which is nothing more than slow moving sand, Doctor. Now, please remember…”

The lights exploded, but glass did not rain down on Dr. Adam and his men. Instead the glass fell from the ceiling and drifted like feathers caught in a gentle wind to the front of Kamau’s cell, now the only source of light in the room. The self defined ‘Radical scientists’ watched in horror the glass began to merge together in mid air, as if it were made of water, and formed two perfectly round discs that seemed to almost shine.

“You brought this on yourself.”

The discs shot towards the scientists like bullets, men screamed as glass cut through them like wet paper. Blood and limbs flew through the air like confetti and Kamau, the author of the carnage, never once blinked.

---

Gauntlet didn’t hesitate to blast open the door labeled ‘authorized persons only’. His reasoning was simple. The door had been at the top of long and winding stairs, and because he had no idea what might be waiting for him on the other side. Freedom, an army of cloned soldiers and maniac robots were high on the list of possibilities.

What Gauntlet honestly never expected was to be assaulted with freezing, gale force winds. Forcing himself forward, the army trained hero stepped outside, and his eyes became as wide as saucers when he realized both his predicament and his mistake.

The entire time, Gauntlet had assumed that he and the others were being held captive in some secret base, concealed in some hellhole armpit of the world, or perhaps cleverly disguised in the middle of some metropolis.

He never thought that they were actually on a highly advanced aircraft, that ran the lenth of three city blocks and possessed God only knew how much firepower. He could hear the anti-gravity engines and almost feel the raw power that flowed through the vessel required just to keep it aloft.

Gauntlet slammed his fist down on the ground, and began willing small bursts of energy through his arm. It was bad enough that RAID had captured so many superhumans, but that they had a mobile base, armed to the teeth? That was a Def-Con Three situation in his mind, at the very least

---

“Adam Two sir, we’ve got security breaches all across the board,” The RAID flunky looked to his superior, in desperate need of command, “Junta, Kamau and the rest are free while the engine room’s gone dark! What do we do?”

Adam Two looked around, and saw the panic in the eyes of the lower ranked RAID members. Only two possessed any sort of military training. The rest of the bridge crew had only the training needed to fly this flying fortress and little else. Any additional stress was enough to break what little nerve they had.

“We need reinforcements,” Adam Two said evenly, “I’ve already alerted our ‘silent partner’. Drop the scramblers so that he can get through, and put an end to this madness! Give him the bridge coordinates, now!”

“Done!”

The gathered members of RAID actually sighed in relief as the HERMES teleport effect appeared in the center of the bridge, dropping Joey Chapman, Union Jack and Sabra in their midst.

“I see that these pathetic fools require the aid of the Shadow King,” Chapman’s eyes glowed blood red, and his voice sounded like two rocks grinding together, “I cannot say that I’m surprised.”

Adam Two shook his head ruefully, “It really worked. I’m torn between admiring your genius and disbelief at RAID’s stupidity.”

“Some people will believe anything that it gets them to the top,” Chapman replied, “give me a sec, eh love?”

Chapman jerked his head forward and a pair of blood red contracts fell into his hand. Reaching up to his throat, he then torn free a small microphone and casually tossed it aside, and cleared his throat with a loud cough.

“Plus, when the Shadow King fell, Shield found a few computer files with his old confirm codes and communication protocols,” Chapman explained, “everyone knows how villains like him come back to life all the time, so I thought I might use it to my advantage. Now, situation report.”

“Everyone has basically managed to free themselves,” answered Adam Two, “there are a few loose ends we need to settle before this illusion of competition, but otherwise everything is in hand just as you predicted.”

“Sir, what are you doing?” demanded one of the RAID technician, deeply disturbed how casually his superior officer was carrying on with Chapman, who (ironically) to his horror revealed that he wasn’t possessed by the Shadow King at all.

“Adam Two is unconscious in the morgue,” Adam Two’s form melted away, into that of Persona Grata, “if you surrender now, they may be lenient on you. And energy weapons are forbidden on the bridge,” Persona added, “there’s no reason why we can’t be mature about this.”

“The hell with you!” One of the braver RAID agents dove for the bridge’s panic button, that would have activated a security system that would automatically attack anyone in the room that didn’t have a RAID loyalty microchip implanted in their spine.

His fist slammed down on the button and…nothing happened. Concerned, he hit it again with the same result. Persona Grata casually strolled over to the RAID flunky while he pounded on the button in the mad hope that it might finally work.

“I shape-shifted into a French hero,” Persona Grata grabbed the man’s wrist and led him away from the consul, “when you ran my finger prints against the government files, a virus was uploaded into your system. The big picture is that your people no longer have any control over this war machine that I don’t allow.”

“Union Jack, take the wheel,” Chapman ordered, “Sabra, keep an eye on the cannon fodder. Persona, would you be so kind as to direct our wayward chums to the bridge? Preferably, before they break something.”

“Understood,” all three answered as one, like the professionals they were.

Sabra turned towards the men on the bridge, little over a dozen in all. She said nothing, but clenched her fist tightly. The sound of her muscles tightening, her knuckles popping sounded very much like a broken cement mixer. When Sabra pointed to the far wall, no one resisted.

“’Jack, begin teleporting in support troops,” Chapman added, “we need to round up all these bastards before they realize that the wool’s been pulled over their eyes. Last thing we need is them damaging my new ship.”

---

Persona Grata made her way to the engine room first, moving as quickly as her legs would carry her. After all, the last thing they needed was for all these thousands of tons of steel to come crashing back down to earth. Even if by some miracle they avoided crashing on some populated area, the ship’s power supply would certainly contaminate the area and spew all kinds of radioactivity into the air.

The doors slid open, and Persona Grata was witness to an impressive scene of carnage. Men hung from the rafters, blood was splattered across the controls and the lights were scattered. Only a shallow emergency light was left to illuminate the room. Bodies were scattered all across the room, their yellow masks torn to reveal faces frozen in horror. The entire place was a charnel house.

“Hiding now, Shiva?” Persona Grata never flinched, but moved through the engine room slowly, her senses in high alert, “thought you were better than that.”

Persona Grata listened for any response, any reaction. She had expected to be attacked the moment she finished her sentence, but nothing happened. There was no clever retort, no angered lunge. Persona sighed in relief, and then felt two sias slide into her back.

“One in the liver, one in the kidney,” Shiva whispered gently into Persona’s ear. Shiva rested her chin on her victim’s shoulder, smiling, “both poisoned, that’s why you can’t feel it. I move, you die. Only I can give you the antidote in time. Now, you’ll going to contract Chapman for me…”

“I don’t think so,” Persona threw her head back, and the back of her skull smacked Shiva in the side of her face. Shiva cursed loudly as she stumbled back, while Persona Grata casually pulled herself off the blades stuck in her back.

“Your blades aren’t anymore effective than your poison,” Persona explained, “anything else? And before you answer, remember that I can activate the nano-bots in your blood stream. You are still leashed, young lady.”

Shiva pulled a small, cylinder detonator from her belt, “We’re in the engine room. With the press of a button, I can bring this entire thing crashing down. Now, you get Chapman down here, deactivate the nanites and just maybe I won’t kill you later.”

“We’re over a particularly poor section of Yemen,” stated Persona, “you crash this thing on all those people, and you’re more likely to get a medal than anything else, putting all those undesirables out of their misery.”

Shiva opened her mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say. So Persona Grata lunged forward, grabbed the hand with the detonator and pressed the button herself.

“No!” Shiva squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the massive fireball that would turn her to ash. A second or two ticked by, and Shiva opened her eyes again and glanced around, baffled as to why she hadn’t yet been incinerated.

“All of RAID’s explosives require special codes from the central computer,” Persona Grata crushed the detonator in her hand, “I changed them. Weapons security is about the only thing RAID managed to do right.”

“What are you..!” Shiva spat, “there’s no way you could have known for certain that the codes were changed! No one, even with healing factors, shrugs off poison like you do! What kind of monster are you?”

“You’re calling me a monster?” Persona motioned to the corpses that littered the room, “and you didn’t do all this just to convince me or anyone who came after you that you’re a monster yourself? Though in an odd way, this is reassuring. Real monsters don’t try, they do.”

“Answer me!” Shiva had two katars in both hands, ready for another attack that not so deep down, she knew wouldn’t work.

“Very well. Hopefully, you’ll see just why fighting…” Persona Grata smiled to herself, reveling in a private joke, “…why fighting me is futile.”

Shiva gasped as the skin peeled back to reveal a massive plastic and wires that vaguely resembled muscle.

“I’m a Shield LMD, experimental infiltration unit to be precise,” Persona Grata explained, “that’s why your poisons have no effect on me. That’s how I knew your bombs didn’t work and how I can activate the nanites inside you at will. Now, are you going to continue acting like a spoiled child and force me to spank you, or can you still act like an adult?”

---

In took a good two nerve wracking hours, but eventually, Excalibur and their associates had RAID safely secured, and stood in uncontested control of their flying headquarters. Lacking a podium and detesting ceremony, Chapman had instead chosen to gather the heroes and sociopaths in one hangar to inform them of his final decision.

“So, who’re the lucky two who get to go home with you?” Gauntlet grumbled. He was still fuming from the fact that this had all been an elaborate hoax. That in and of itself hadn’t angered him, Gauntlet knew of similar tactics used by intelligence agencies to test new recruits. What bothered him was that Chapman was so confident in their and his abilities that his precautions were bare minimum. Cowboy crap like that got people killed more often than not, and this time, it was his fat in the fire, not Chapman’s.

“Funny you should ask,” answered Chapman, “because only two people are leaving, and that’s yourself and Eagle.”

“I’m heart broken,” stated American Eagle, who after narrowly avoiding torture because of Chapman, could barely shrug indifferently. Having seen first hand how Excalibur was run, he no longer had the slightest desire to serve them. But he was slightly curious, “not that I care, but why’d we get cut?”

“The both of ye were asked to remove one pain in the ass Commando from competition…”

“Yo.”

“…but failed to do so when given the opportunity. An opportunity I made sure was presented to you,” Chapman explained, “Excalibur sometimes gets into a grey area. If you can’t stab a jackass in the back, then you’re no good to me.”

“More like, we’re too good for you,” American Eagle corrected, “Come on, Gauntlet, lets get out of here. The smell of this scum bag is making me sick.”

“These excuse this interruption,” Guishen said politely, “but is it wise to have six members to a strike force? I do not believe our powers would complement the other existing members of your team, given their strength.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Chapman nodded, “that’s why only Commando and Kamau will be on the main team. The rest of you lot are going to be on a separate team, working in conjunction with Excalibur.”

“What, we’re your secret black ops group?” asked Shiva.

Chapman looked to the ceiling and sighed, “For all your skill, you might as well where a sign that says rookie. I just placed everyone here in battle with a combination of mercenaries and government agents. By this time tomorrow, at the latest, the direct of the CIA, Nick Fury and everyone else who matters will have complete dossiers on every last one of you. I don’t have the time or pull you make you secret.

“No, you four are Excalibur’s advance team,” Chapman explained, “I need some precision as much as I need power. Someone who can slip into the castle and lower the drawbridge when the situation requires it. Persona Grata for infiltration. Guishen, interrogation. Junta, technologies expert and you…well, we all know how you get your giggles.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Persona Grata remarked, “though it probably should have been implemented a long time ago.”

Chapman shrugged, “I agree there, but that’s politics for you. At least we’re no longer a poor man’s Avengers, but that doesn’t mean our funding is the best. Hell, I had to steal an airship from these blighters when SHIELD has a half dozen already in service!”

A panel slid loose from the ceiling, landing only a foot away from Chapman with a loud –clang!-.

“I think you got your money’s worth out of this thing,” Commando commented.

“Well, we are still UN funded,” Chapman sighed.

---

Brent Hunter honestly had no idea the exact reason why he and his wife had decided on Mongolia for a vacation. They wanted something off the beaten path, yet still rich in history. Having spent three decades prior teaching history, they now wanted to actually see some of that history in their retirement. Somewhere along the line, they had decided on Asia and from there, at the toss of a dart literally, Mongolia.

Their first stop was a nice, quant little village at the end of the Gobi Desert. The idea was to take in both the local culture and to observe, from place of comfort, the Gobi Desert.
As luck would have it, their timing was perfect. Brent watched contently from his window as snow fell in the desert. The pure white blanket that lay over the snow was just the thing he needed for self reflection. With a cigar in one hand and local brandy in the other, of course.

Brent was minutes from turning in, when he saw what could only be described as a silver tear appear in the sky. He watched in awe as it grew and grew, until it took up the totality of his view of the night’s sky. The light was searing, but the college professor couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Because in the center of the breach, he saw a city that looked as if it were made of crystal fast approaching. Though he couldn’t see it, there was a flicker of light from the approaching city that grew in size, and by the time Brent’s mind realized the approaching threat, it was too late.

---

Next issue: Excalibur faces their greatest challenge ever in the form of a new foe who has an entire society behind him! It’s their first mission with their new teammates and it’s sink or swim time already!

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