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MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS... "Siege of Magic" Part III: Into the Dragon's Din Written by Daniel Ingram |
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On the deck of the Excalibur Hellicarrier
Joey Chapman, Kamau, Silverclaw, Scarlet Scarab and Sabra stood atop Excalibur’s attack helicarrier. Surprisingly, the anti-gravity generators that allowed the massive warship to literally float in the air were fairly quiet. The roar they generated was no greater than the noise created average crowd at an American mall.
Of course, Silverclaw was the only one who really seemed to notice. Everyone else was too busy standing around looking serious, staring seriously at the magical, floating island of crystal that hovered in the distance. Try as she might though, Silverclaw couldn’t take seriously something that looked like it stepped out of a Disney movie.
“So what do you think their society is like, Scarab?” Maria asked. Idle conversation seemed better than listening to anti-gravity engines and the wind, “Don’t you study this kind of stuff?”
“As an archeologist, I study the past, not the present,” Scarab corrected.
“Yeah, I know that, but studying the development of a society is something you’ve been doing for like, decades. Don’t you have any ideas what they might be like?”
Scarlet Scarab smiled. In his experience teaching, a curious student was a gift, “If I had to guess, these people have come to completely rely on magic. Their understanding of our world therefore is likely to be limited and framed in the context. So I would tread carefully and leave the talking to our Director.”
“Sound advice, mate,” Chapman observed a singular cloud emerge from a wall of solid crystal. He rubbed a spot of dirt off his cufflinks, “look sharp, our ride’s here. Let me do the talking and say nothing that isn’t the vaguest compliment you can think of. Understood?”
The members of Excalibur nodded in agreement.
The cloud came to a stop some thirty yards away. Lord Darkstorm brought an entourage, as expected, and Chapman took a moment to study them. The first was a knight wearing an ancient, blood stained armor, next to him was a short, green skinned goblin-like creature with a red cloak and golden necklace while the last one was simply an animated skeleton that wore a blue robe, red cape and golden crown atop his head. All men of power, and Chapman could see from their body language that they all deferred to Darkstorm.
“Director Chapman, I would be honored if you joined us.” With a simple gesture, the solid cloud beneath Darkstorm stood on extended outwards, forming a bridge for Excalibur.
The bridge was barely a meter and a half wide, with an excellent view of the ground but Chapman didn’t blink. He put one foot down to test. It felt like stepping in mud, his sinking too far for him to be entirely comfortable with. Someone with lesser nerves might have feared it giving way, but Chapman was actually expecting this.
Chpaman knew that Darkstorm was, however subtly, testing him. Whether Darkstorm wanted him to hesitate to test his nerve, or wanted him to stumble as a sort of joke, Chapman neither knew nor cared. He strode forward easily, ignoring the nature of the ground (cloud?) beneath his feet. His team joined him in short order.
“Thank you for joining us, Director Chapman,” Darkstorm’s smile was as genuine as it was unnerving, “though I cannot stress how much I wish the circumstances were different, I look forward to learning more of your world.”
I’ll bet, Chapman thought to himself, “Of course. Even in the most serious crisis’s, we should take the time to learn about new cultures. I think it will be amazing to learn how a society based entirely on magic.”
“As interesting as it will be to see how it developed without it,” Darkstorm countered, “as a matter of fact, there was a small matter regarding your world a must ask you about.”
“Oh? What might that be, Lord Darkstorm?”
Darkstorm pointed towards the edge of his crystal city, and Chapman found his vision impossibly enhanced as he saw three military predator drones circling the city. Chapman recognized the design immediately.
“Those are illegal
spy drones, sent by
“Chapman, are you
out of your mind?” Scarlet Scarab whispered, “
“And I will make sure that they answer for sticking their nose in my business,” Chapman said casually, as if he didn’t care who heard him.
Lord Darkstorm made a vague gesture with his right hand, and three plumes of flame shot out from the city walls, striking the drones and sending them plummeting to the ground below.
“Thank you. I felt they were violating the terms of our cease-fire, but did not wish to create a pointless diplomatic incident,” Darkstorm explained, “now, in my culture, before diplomacy truly begins, we enjoy a customary feast. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, Lord Darkstorm. Too many bad decisions can be made on an empty stomach, after all,” In the opinions of his subordinates, Chapman’s smile was too bright and too easy.
“Agreed! Now,
prepare yourself. The splendor of the ancient city of
The cloud they flew on climbed into the air like a feather caught in an updraft.
All at once a city built on the foundations of twenty generations of magic came into sight, and Darkstorm wasn’t kidding when he said it was breath taking.
There were a million odd sights to be seen, among them a sky scraper made entirely of smooth, seamless crystal, a mansion that hovered in the air, and a tree larger than any building Chapman had ever seen that seemed to house thousands.
On the street below, unicorns pulled cars full of fruits that Chapman never knew existed, while cyclops, pixies and humans casually walked side by side. Signs advertised for magical services of every kind, from new custom fit clothing, to healing to even dentistry.
More interesting to Chapman though, was the lack of technology that he saw. As far as the eye could see, the wheel, cart and lever seemed to be the most advanced technology these people possessed that wasn’t dependant upon magic.
At least the scales are balanced, Chapman thought silently, we know as little about them as they know about us.
Down below in Faylin, one agent of Chapman was working to tip the scales in their favor.
She had the appearance of an old beggar woman, but she moved with the strength and grace of someone a quarter her age couldn’t manage. Secreted in an empty alley, she listened with ears better than most animals, and looking for prying eyes with a half dozen senses that no human naturally possessed. Satisfied the area was secured, she activated a small, handheld devise designed to send out a short wave homing signal.
After a minute’s pause, there was a flash of light, and Guishen, Shiva and Junta of Excalibur’s stealth squad were delivered to the alley via the HERMES teleporter.
“Sit. rep, Persona?”
“I’ve mapped most of the city,” Persona Grata assumed her natural, feminine cat suit wearing form, “nothing detailed, but I can direct us to the general area of where we will need to be, depending on our assignments.”
“Good,” Junta reached into his pocket and pulled out a small devise no larger than a cell-phone. He pressed a single button, and the devise grew to twice the size of a tackle box. He set it down on the ground, and began typing several commands into the now visible keypad, “because I’ve got enough toys for this whole city.”
“Weaponized Pym particles?” Persona Grata took a step back, “do you have any idea how many weapons treaties that thing violates just by existing?”
“I am, and so is Chapman. It’s something that was confiscated during the Devil’s Island debacle,” Junta explained, “Chapman didn’t want to keep it, but couldn’t trust anyone to get rid of it either. So we’re gonna tap it out and destroy it. Two birds, one surprisingly small stone.”
“I don’t even see what the big deal is,” Shiva muttered.
Danny tapped the box, “I’ve got enough C-4 in here to blow up half of New York without even trying. With Pym Particles, I can carry enough weapons to arm a battalion under one arm. Hell, the treaties that outlaw Pym particles as weapons are secret, because they don’t want to give anyone the idea to use them.”
“And what do I get for keeping the secret?” asked Shiva.
“Crazy wacko on a nano-chain says ‘aarg!’”
Shiva screamed as the nano-bots in her system were activated. It felt as if someone had grabbed a handful of her nerves and gave a harsh yank.
Junta ignored her, and Persona Grata’s withering glare, and handed Guishen a modified dart-gun, “Your assignment is to target as many high ranking members as you can find with this thing.”
Guishen examined the gun carefully, “This appeared to be modified from a Desert Eagle, but the chamber is too small for standard bullets. And cannot I kill enough people to counter the risk of exposure with a clip of this size.”
“The clip is modified with Pym Particles, and shoots liquid bullets composed of nano-chains,” Junta explained, “they’ll just feel a splash of water, and it will enable us to kill anyone targeted at will. You should be able to infect two hundred targets, if you do it right.”
“I understand. I have used weapons like this before in my homeland,” Guishen said. Persona Grata and Shiva gave him a curious look.
“Don’t focus on just the generals,” Junta said, “colonels, captains, anyone that might screw up troop deployment and response. We want total chaos, not just a head shot.”
“Persona, I want you and killjoy to hit the prison. Scope it out, but don’t make contact until we get the go ahead. If you do see the need to make contact, don’t promise anything we can’t keep, okay?”
“And what exactly can we promise?” Persona asked.
“Nothing. Use your best poker face,” Junta pressed several buttons, and the devise shrank again, “in the meantime, I’m going to distribute some fireworks. Remember, if you’re caught, lie, lie, lie.”
“Not likely,” Shiva muttered.
“Well, with your nano-chains, you’ll just ‘die, die, die’,” Junta said dismissively, “so don’t get any bright ideas. Stick with your killing, ‘kay?”
“And what happens if we can actually solve this with real diplomacy?” Persona Grata asked, half sarcastically.
“Then we’ll come in later to disable all the weapons planted by Hydra,” Junta said smoothly, “now let’s get this done.”
Guishen waited patiently for his teammates to disperse. Then, he walked several feet until he was almost at the mouth of the alley, and then lashed out with his foot at open air.
Guishen felt it connect with someone solid, just where his telepathy indicated someone would be. The figure looked young, no taller than five feet, immature features but when Guishen had heard his prey’s surface thoughts, they were complex, fully recognizing the implications of the Stealth Squad’s presence in this dark alley, and to who needed to be made aware.
He or she could be twenty, five or even twelve years old, it was impossible for the Chinese Operative to tell. But all Guishen and his sword really cared about was operational security.
A moment later the street was stained red. The Chinese Security Agent took two minutes to ensure the body wouldn’t be found, and then went about his business.
Elsewhere
The members of Excalibur stared long and hard at the ominous cloud that hung in the far sky. The longer they looked at it, the more it reminded them
“Big bang? Are you serious?” Cybermancer took an involuntary step backwards, as did Union Jack. Both scientists at heart, they absorbed Dr. Strange’s comment a little more thoroughly than Commando or Darkstar.
“Perfectly serious,” Dr. Strange answered, “I don’t believe that we’re in any direct danger just yet, but I certainly don’t wish to remain here any longer than is absolutely necessary.”
“You ain’t the only one,” Commando muttered.
“Before we go any further, there’s something I need to do,” Dr. Strange took a steadying breath and began moving his hands to form ancient signs while he whispered secret words of power, “just incantation to access the situation. In a world of magic, there can be any number of traps designed only to attack outsiders. It stands to reason that Darkstorm would have left several of them before leaving.”
“So you’re doing a magic mine sweep,” Commando summarized.
“Good explanation as any. One moment…” Dr. Strange concentrated for a moment, and released the slight energy he had gathered up with his will. The spell was fairly intricate, but compared Dr. Strange’s usual repertoire, it was a weak spell, something nearly any novice could safely accomplish.
So naturally, everyone was surprised when the moment the spell was released, the earth began to move, the wind howled and Excalibur was attacked by everything.
The solid rock beneath their feet became like mud, trees began bending towards them while the wind howled like a wounded animal. Nature itself warped, and lunged for Dr. Strange.
Darkstar reacted first, covering the Sorcerer Supreme in a bubble of indestructible darkforce. Rock, wind and branches lashed against the barrier to no avail. Cybermancer was next, releasing quick bursts of energy that destroyed the tree limbs reaching for Dr. Strange and blew apart the earth.
After several seconds, the sound and fury died with a slight whine. Darkstar lowered the shield around Dr. Strange, who looked absolutely furious.
“Thank you, Darkstar,” Dr. Strange said politely. There was a clear undertone of anger in the good Doctor’s voice, but it was clear that none of it was directed at anyone present.
“Has something like that ever happened before?” asked Union Jack. He certainly didn’t need to be told that wasn’t the intended effect of the spell.
“No, never,” answered Dr. Strange, “I have walked across a hundred different realities and never once did a reality react like that.”
“Jack,” Darkstar called, “look at this!”
Darkstar projected her trademark energy from her hand, the pitch black energy that obeyed her every whim. But as it flowed from her fingers, the color shifted, no longer darker than space itself, but from blue to green to yellow.
Cybermancer gave Union Jack a startled look and then pointed, “Rock, your knife!”
Union Jack grabbed his energy knife from its sheath and hurled it to the ground. He knew instinctively to trust his teammates.
To his utter shock, his energy dagger, capable of slicing through steel or just disrupting a man’s nervous system depending on the setting, was activated despite needing contact with special microchips embedded in his glove to even activate. Hell, it wasn’t just active, the damn thing was glowing white hot. Union Jack could see that the damned thing was eating through a battery with a twenty four hour charge and would likely die in the next ten minutes. It began to melt into the ground itself without making a single noise.
He looked at his side where he usually kept the dagger, half expecting third degree burns that he didn’t feel yet because he was in shock. But there was nothing to see. He touched his sheath, and it was cool to the touch.
“Something is very wrong here,” Union Jack muttered.
“Hey, you!”
The small team of heroes turned around and saw four men, carrying blood stained axes and wearing white cloaks stomping towards them.
“You know the penalty for unauthorized magic!”
“We are warders! Surrender now, and your sentence will be swift and painless!”
“I got this,” Commando shrugged. He moved into motion with the speed of a cat, and all the grace of a quarterback. He crossed the distance between them and the self declared Warders in seconds.
Lined up almost side by side, the Warders were in the worst position to defend themselves against someone like Commando. He slugged the first one on the outer right, and kicked the one on the outer left in the face before they even had time to register he was near. The last two received unceremonious fists straight to the face.
“Now we have prisoners to interrogate,” Commando said over his shoulder, “dibs!”
“All yours, Commando. Darkstar, Strange and I will follow their path back to civilization,” said Union Jack, “Cybermancer, you stay with Commando. You two are going to be our reinforcements if something goes wrong.”
“Understood. Do we need to strip these guys for disguises?” asked Cybermancer.
“Kinky,” Commando observed.
“Shut up.”
“No need, I brought image inducers,” Union Jack answered, “and Commando? No torture. That’s an order.”
Commando rolled his eyes, “Please, torture is for idiots. Breaking a body and breaking a mind are two completely different things, Percy.”
“Just get the basics, Francis. We don’t need much.”
Growing up in Israel as a child, Sabra secretly wanted to grow up. There wasn’t a single child who didn’t see the violence surrounding them, but unlike other little girls her age, Sabra never tried to ignore or forget the violence. Even at the age of five, she wanted to do something about it. Sometimes she wanted to single handily bring peace all by herself, on her moodier days she wanted to vanquish all of Israel’s enemies as a feared and wise general.
Now, as an adult, for the first time in her life, Sabra actually wished that she were younger. The mystical mythic city of Faylin possessed enough sites to overwhelm the imagination of anyone, and Sabra wished that she could only appreciate it better. Glancing at Silverclaw, Sabra saw a glimmer of what she wished she had.
Surrounded by nothing but creatures of pure imagination, Sabra wondered what their home world was like.
When traveling to new places, Union Jack always hoped to see something new. Sadly, that wasn’t the case here. In fact, he was looking at a very familiar scene, if one didn’t count real fairies, goblins and various other magical creatures.
The makeshift tents, the stench of unwashed flesh and untreated wounds, the air of depression. Apparently, Dr. Strange had teleported them to the outskirts of a refugee camp. In the distance, Union Jack could see the ruins of a floating city much like the one back home, only it was toppled, resting on its side and it’s many towers crumbling from age and disrepair.
Union Jack watched grimly as dozens of people huddled around a bonfire some two stories tall, struggling for warmth. Earlier he’d seen a family of five fighting tooth and nail over a single thing of corn, and before that witnessed a half dozen people frozen perfectly still, the only sign that they were even alive being their flickering eyes. Even more disturbing to the former spy was how so few reacted to the scene, resigned to their inability to help their fellows.
Union Jack couldn’t help but feel that he should know what was wrong with this reality, despite it’s foundations in magic. Something seemed to nag at the edges of his awareness, something about this entire situation he felt he should just automatically know.
In his mind, Union Jack kept track of the time that passed and after several hours, made his way towards the agreed upon rendezvous point. He moved slowly, careful not to draw suspicion. Arriving early, Union Jack scanned the area with a critical eye, wary of anyone who looked suspicious. Their mission was too important and they were too far from home not to take every precaution.
Union Jack saw nothing of concern, and breathed a little easier when he saw Darkstar approaching.
“There is something deeply wrong with this world,” Darkstar muttered to Union Jack, “I can’t describe it, but can’t help but think that I should know. Russia at its worse has never made me feel what I feel now.”
“I feel it too,” Union Jack replied, “hopefully, Dr. Strange will have some insight into what’s wrong. If even we can sense it, I’ll bet that he’ll know the cause.”
“Where is the good doctor?” asked Darkstar.
“He’ll be along in a minute or two,” Union Jack replied, “the image inducer I supplied has a built in clock.”
Several minutes past uneventfully, but Union Jack grew more anxious as each minute ticked by. The longer they stated, the longer they risked being discovered, the longer Chapman went without the proper intelligence and the greater the threat to their world grew.
“…do you think they caught him?” Darkstar asked, knowing she was only giving voice to Union Jack’s fears.
“I don’t think so,” Union Jack replied, “there’s usually more of an uproar when a spy of any kind is suddenly caught, trust me.”
“So what could be keeping him?”
Union Jack didn’t have to think long, “Follow me.”
In truth, Union Jack only had the vaguest idea of where to go. But in his career as a government agent, he’d learned to observe certain patterns, how to make note of seemingly useless information, analyze it and apply it to his goals.
For instance, this world had never advanced past the Middle Ages technologically, and whatever affliction the world suffered, it had crippled the very forces that they’d come to rely on for basic day to day living. Add that with the fact that Dr. Strange possessed an actual doctorate in medicine, and Union Jack had a pretty good idea where he’d find the Sorcerer Supreme.
“No, are you insane? Leeches only take blood! You need to clean out the wound and drain the
They found him in the third triage tent. Union Jack peaked inside, and all the normally composed and stoic Dr. Stranger all but raving at several people in blue gowns. Union Jack guessed that they were what passed for medical staff in this world, from both their uniforms and looks of complete disbelief they gave Dr. Strange.
“Follow my lead,” Union Jack whispered to Darkstar, “Stephen, we’ve been worried sick!”
Dr. Strange spun around, and gave Union Jack a look of pure disgust.
The former spy crossed the room quickly, and wrapped his arm around the Doctor’s neck. Placing his index and thumb on key muscles, Union Jack literally took away Dr. Strange’s ability to protest.
“I’m so sorry!” Darkstar said to the attendants, “he just gets these mad ideas and thinks that he’s…well, I’m sorry. We’ll just be leaving, again, I’m so sorry!”
Dr. Strange managed to wrest himself free from Union Jack’s grip, but by then the three of them were a good distance away from the triage tent.
“I should turn you into a toad,” Dr. Strange hissed, rubbing his sore throat, “you don’t deserve any creative punishment for what you just did!”
“I know you thought you were just treating patients Doctor, but you were drawing needless attention to yourself,” Union Jack replied, “we have people, and lives, relying on us for information. I’m sorry, Strange, but that’s how it is.”
Dr. Strange rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, “No, I’m sorry, Union Jack. You’re right. It’s just that when I saw those appalling conditions…”
Dr. Strange just shook his head, and began walking. The three moved in silence, back up the hill where they’d left Commando and Cybermancer. Union Jack honestly didn’t know what to expect, coming back.
But he certainly didn’t expect the four of them, plus Commando, sitting in a circle, playing cards with their four captives.
“About time you got here,” Commando grunted, never looking away from his cards, “just let me finish this hand.”
“No no, we fold,” said first man. He pushed a pile of daggers, gold coins and even a battle axe forward, “we’ve been here too long, and like you we have to see to our duty.”
Union Jack looked at the self declared Warders oddly, but said nothing.
“Commando convinced them that we’re hear to fix their reality,” Cybermancer said through their comm. links, “he had me show off my armor some, convince them that we were investigating what was happening.”
Union Jack nodded to Cybermancer, but remained silent as Commando collected his winnings and said goodbye to the four former captives.
“I’m impressed,” Union Jack said finally.
“What, thought I’d grab a knife and start hacking away for information?”
“Something like that,” Union Jack shrugged, “United States army interrogation has been seriously lacking, lately.”
“Fair enough. But it’s just easier to lie,” Commando pulled out a small body bag that he kept on his belt. He unzipped it, and began to fill it with his winnings, “less messy, smarter and you really do get more out of it.”
“Dr. Strange, can we still get home,” Cybermancer asked, “after what those four said…”
“You needn’t worry,” Dr. Strange answered, “I prepared a series of intricate spells in laden with certain…precautions. I’m not terribly surprised about what we found, I just didn’t want to admit that to myself.”
With a heavy sigh, Dr. Strange teleported the four heroes back to their own reality.
The food was easily the finest Chapman had ever tasted, and as a former leader of England’s Hellfire Club, that meant a lot. Chapman was mildly concerned when he realized that he couldn’t recognize the animal that they were cutting the meat from, but when he saw Darkstorm eat from the same animal, Chapman relaxed.
Sure, the guy was a scumbag, but he looked human. So hopefully, anything that was safe for him to eat, was safe for Chapman and his subordinates to eat.
The meal lasted a good half hour, and reminded Chapman of damn near every medieval movie that he’d ever see, mixed with a little Harry Potter. They were dining in a stone wall, warmed by a fire, entertained by dancers, the whole nine yards. Chapman was, still in mild disbelief.
Eventually, the meal began to wind down. Chapman felt himself beginning to tense. Though things had been peaceful up until now, Chapman suspected that Lord Darkstorm was preparing to spring a trap. The man’s demeanor was too smug, too confident for Chapman’s liking.
“Hear me, my most honored court,” Lord Darkstorm suddenly stood and everyone, including members of Excalibur, turned to pay attention, “now that we have established relations with this fine dimension, we will have our traditional ceremony of arms!”
“Here it comes…” Chapman muttered under his breath.
“A battle of champions, to the death!”
NEXT ISSUE:
Chapman finds himself in a bind, and we learn the terrible secret of
Lord Darkstorm’s home reality! Plus, we catch a glimpse of what Hellios
has been up to this entire time.  
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