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#16
September 2006 |
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Night
Thrasher |
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Turbo |
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Bolt |
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Spider-Woman |
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Ricochet |
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Hornet |
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Ultra Girl |
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Crux |
MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...
"BEFORE
NIGHT FALLS"
Written
by
Stephen Crosby
He was waiting in a car when Night Thrasher strode out of the airport. Neither man was in their armor, but they knew each other, and the greeting was respectful.
“Chris,” said Night Thrasher curtly as he opened the passenger-side door and entered the vehicle.
“Dwayne,” responded Darkhawk as he shifted gears and drove the car onto the road. During the brief drive, the conversation went much the same way.
“My armor?”
“In the trunk. It didn’t arrive until after your flight. Were you planning to be delayed?”
“I was planning to pick it up as I left. Does your team have any information?”
“Only that four individuals in their
uniforms are operating in
“After Vagabond he should.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Moon Knight figured that everybody should know when one of us can’t be trusted.”
“Iron Man won’t like that.”
“He wouldn’t. It was his mistake to recruit her.”
“But anyway, that’s not the reason. Hawkeye keeps his ear to the ground, knows that two of them were last associated with your team. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t given me the go-ahead.”
“I realize your team is short-staffed. Tell him I appreciate the loan, but it won’t be necessary. Aside from the info, I can handle things myself.”
“Why didn’t anybody else come?”
The leader of the New Warriors didn’t have an answer, and least not one that satisfied him. When the lead had come about Richochet and Hornet, he’d just left with only a message to the others about where he was going. At the time, Ultra Girl and Turbo had been tearing the place apart, and he couldn’t help but think that he’d simply taken an excuse to get away from his team. Not that it was much of a team, Night Thrasher thought to himself.
“This isn’t like the old team. Everybody’s had trouble meshing together, and I may have something to do with that. Without me around, maybe the others will connect in some way, get closer to being an actual team. That or I’ll find an empty Crash Pad when I return.”
“Things are that bad?”
Night Thrasher gave a nod. “I can’t blame Ricochet or Hornet for leaving. The only reason I’m here is to make sure it wasn’t under duress. This is their old team, what they’re familiar with. This new team doesn’t have any of that, for anybody. Maybe I should move on, like the others did.”
“What move on? Everybody’s still fighting, and doing a better job of it because you turned them from loners to team-players. Nova, Namorita and Speedball are on a mixed team of mutants and contemporary heroes put together by a rich guy. Sound familiar?
“And maybe this is what you’re supposed to be doing,” continued Darkhawk. “Young heroes need to be trained, not just in the use of their powers but also in how to use them responsibly. There’s not telling how I would have ended up if Spider-Man hadn’t taught me what being a hero is really about, and something tells me he learned it the hard way.”
“Well, that’s something to think about,” Night Thrasher admitted. “But later. Right now I’d rather just worry about these Slingers.”
“And if they need help, all the better.”
“Let go of me!”
Prodigy struggled to keep hold of man, to prevent him from running out into traffic. Though much smaller, the man had passion for what he was after.
“Jessica! Jessica!” He waved frantically at somebody across the street who couldn’t be seen. “I’m here sweetheart! We can be together!”
“She can’t hear you.” With some effort, Prodigy lifted the man off the ground and half-dragged, half-carried him away from the street. “She doesn’t even know you exist, loser. Now stop your delusional ranting before I throw you to the moon.”
“Now who’s being delusional?” Ricochet hopped from speeding car to speeding car and landed in front of Prodigy and the crazed stalker. “Hey man, nice catsuit. Prodigy should take some fashion tips from you.”
“I’ve got this,” Prodigy told Ricochet. “Go handle your part.”
“Oh, that.” Ricochet turned his head towards the street and gave a brief shrug. “It’s done. She had no idea her biggest fan was about to get paved along the road. Plus I got this.” Ricochet held up a signed photograph. “Cool, huh? How much you think I can get off C-Bay?”
“Don’t you dare!” Screamed the obsessed fan in the catsuit. “She gave you that to pass on to me!”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Hey, Prodg, let’s dump this guy off at the nearest loony bin and meet up with the others.”
“I’ll be glad to,” snarled the garishly dressed hero.
Several blocks away, Dusk observed a bank from across the street, hidden in shadows. A dozen stories up, Hornet was perched on a ledge, watching the same bank. Something tapped him on the shoulder, causing Hornet to jump and nearly fall before that same hand steadied him.
“Whoa, sorry there,” apologized Ricochet. “You were so intent, you didn’t hear me say hi.”
“You did not say hi,” corrected Prodigy, who was crawling out the same window Ricochet had used.
“Well, no, but I was thinking it really hard,” he explained. “Just checking to see which of us becomes a telepath first. Every team has one.”
“What took you,” Hornet asked the two latecomers.
“We spied a celebrity stalker about to kill himself so the celebrity would notice him,” Ricochet explained. “This city’s bursting with crazies. Good news is I got an autograph. You wanna see?”
“Later,” Prodigy said. To Hornet he asked, “Anything happened?”
Hornet shook his head, covered in that large, clunky helmet. “Nothing that I’ve noticed. Shots haven’t been fired, and I haven’t picked up the silent alarm.”
“This bank is getting robbed today, right?” inquired Ricochet. “Because I think it’s much more likely that snitch just doesn’t Prodigy. I know I wouldn’t, guy roughs me up every few nights for information.”
“It is if that dirtbag knows what’s good for him,” answered Prodigy. Suddenly he pointed down at the street. “Look! A police car with sirens!”
Ricochet squinted. “Really? I thought that was a Cadillac.”
“It means something’s happened inside, and we missed it!” explained Prodigy, with a glare at Hornet. “Fix that helmet as soon as you’re back home.” In closing, Prodigy yelled as he leapt from the ledge, “Slingers away!”
“You better catch him,” Ricochet said to Hornet as he also leapt from the ledge. “Otherwise he’ll return from the dead all pissed off.”
“I think something’s happening, Dusk,” said Hornet into his helmet transmitter as he flew off the ledge and towards Prodigy. “We’re rushing in, but maybe you can teleport in unseen and not risk lives.”
Three stories down Hornet’s arms hooked under Prodigy’s shoulders and the two men went in a controlled descent towards the bank. At the last second Prodigy pushed away from Hornet.
“Hey!”
Armor the color of silver and gold protected Prodigy in his crash through the bank’s glass window. Hornet was similarly protected when he flew through a second window. Having no real armor to speak of, Ricochet landed nimbly onto the sidewalk and simply pulled open the door into the bank. Immediately he fell into a roll that ended into a fantastic somersault that would have evaded any greeting bullets, all the while withdrawing stun discs and holding them ready in his fingers.
The fourth Slinger, Dusk, stood in the center of the bank’s lobby, next to three unconscious men that had been tied up. Against one wall of the bank were the employees and customers, all unharmed but scared.
Standing there after a spectacular and somewhat wasted entrance, Ricochet scratched his head, momentarily forgetting about the stun discs. “Ow!” Looking at the hand, Ricochet noticed the discs, went flush with embarrassment, and quickly put them away. “I mean, hmmm.”
“What happened here?!” asked Prodigy incredulously.
At the same time, Hornet approached Dusk with a touch of awe on his face. “Wow. You managed to beat them all by yourself.” Turning to face Ricochet and Prodigy, he added, “she must have noticed something while you guys took my attention.”
“Not really,” stated Dusk in a low, almost whisper of a voice. “I mean, well, yeah I did notice something. But it wasn’t me that did this.” She gestured at the trussed up robbers. With her other hand she held up a piece of paper. “I found this attached.”
Ricochet reached for the paper, but Prodigy snatched it out of Dusk’s hand before she could give it to anybody. His eyes scanned over it then glanced back-and-forth between Ricochet and Hornet. Without a word, he pushed the paper at Ricochet.
“It’s from ‘Thrash,” said Ricochet for Hornet’s benefit. “Gives a time and place. Huh, could’ve stuck around and talked to us right here.”
“I told you we should have said goodbye in person,” admonished Hornet. “Deserters get shot you know.”
“I’m sure he just wants to make sure you’re okay,” stated Dusk hopefully. “But I suppose we’ll know for certain tonight.”
Train cars sat silent on rails that were no longer active. Among these shells of once mighty beasts stood the dark figure of Night Thrasher. High up behind him a figure of gold and silver was briefly illuminated by the full moon. Prodigy leaped from the train car and tackled the shape of Night Thrasher high about the neck. Both crashed to the ground, but Prodigy kept moving, raining blows against the head of the prone figure.
Others came out of the shadows. Hornet moved slow in his heavy armor that only allowed him to move quickly in the air. Ricochet seemed only to touch the ground briefly in between lengthy bounds. Of Dusk there was no sign, as she remained hidden in the shadows of which she seemed so much a part.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Hornet in a shocked tone.
Punches continued to land as Prodigy gave his answer. “Teaching this scum a lesson about not trying to break up the Slingers. We’re a team, and we’re going to stay that way!”
“Okay Prodigy, whatever you say,” soothed out Ricochet. “But last I heard we heroes didn’t go around beating up people until they actually did something.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Prodigy turned away from the figure he’d been hammering at, right into a punch thrown by Night Thrasher! The self-proclaimed powerhouse of the Slingers fell dazed to the ground. His teammates Hornet and Ricochet watched as Night Thrasher stepped over the dummy and his decoy towards them. In his hand was one of the two truncheons Night Thrasher kept in his armor.
Stun discs appeared in Ricochet’s hand, raised to throw. Hornet had likewise raised his arm, leveled it fist out towards Night Thrasher. The slightest spasm and his electric “stinger” blast would be activated.
“So,” greeted Ricochet, “here we are. ‘Thrash, good to see you again.”
“I wanted to talk to you about us leaving,” Hornet said hurriedly. You know how spur of the moment Ricochet can be though.”
“Prodigy’s message led us to believe he was in trouble,” Ricochet explained. “We thought it best to get here as soon as possible, give you a call if it was something we couldn’t handle.”
“A good idea,” Night Thrasher agreed. “Whatever happened to it?”
“I…I’m not r-really sure,” Hornet stammered. He struggled to think about what has been going on these past few weeks, about the trouble that had brought him and Ricochet out west. Nothing came to mind.
“We aren’t children ‘Thrash,” answered Ricochet with acid. “Your permission isn’t required for every move we make.” The words were coming out of his mouth, but Ricochet couldn’t believe he was saying them.
“No, not permission,” again, Night Thrasher agreed. “Courtesy would have been nice, though. Bolt disappeared the same night. You aren’t the only ones I’ve been looking for.”
Movement was registered behind Night Thrasher. He whipped around, caught Prodigy’s fist in his hand. Cold, steely eyes met a surprised gaze. “You just don’t stop being stupid, do you?”
Ozone fouled the air. Electricity crackled in Night Thrasher’s direction. Knee bent, Night Thrasher dove to the side while pulling Prodigy forward. Hands broke apart the instant before Hornet’s electric sting jabbed into Prodigy’s chest. In the same motion, Night Thrasher hurled his truncheon.
“Hornet don’t!” Ricochet yelled too late.
Night Thrasher had thrown his truncheon at the ground before Hornet’s feet, where it bounced up between his legs and into the armor’s jetpack. Having failed to notice this in time, when Hornet fired up his jetpack to go airborne the entire back of his armor exploded into flame.
“Eeeaauughh!”
One of the only friends he had in the world was on fire. Ricochet had no idea what he could do about that, but he could deal with the person responsible. Stun discs went flying from his hands. Night Thrasher was still moving, had turned around in the preceding seconds to see the discs coming. At first it appeared he only leaned back, and one of the discs did pass directly over him. But then Night Thrasher’s feet left the ground. He back-flipped through the air, over the remaining stun discs. At the height of his jump, the second truncheon fired from Night Thrasher’s second launcher.
Ricochet was only able move fast enough so that the truncheon didn’t hit him square in the jaw. He took a glancing blow, stumbled to the ground pained but was still conscious. The brief distraction was all Night Thrasher need, however. He crossed the distance, kicked Ricochet so hard in the mid-section he landed on the pavement several feet away. It wasn’t enough to knock Ricochet unconscious though, and he saw Night Thrasher spray Hornet with a flame-retardant.
“You know I didn’t want a fight,” Night Thrasher said to everybody and no one in particular. “But prepared, you would know that too. Something isn’t right here. Where is the fourth one?”
Dusk didn’t respond, or reveal herself from the shadows. But Night Thrasher didn’t need for her too. The armor he wore had a number of functions and gadgets, including flash grenades that he’d previously found useful against an old girlfriend. Filters lowered over his eyes, and then Night Thrasher lit up the area.
“Aaahh!” Black became white. Shape became illuminated as though they were negatives, including the Slingers and most especially Dusk. She was no more than a few feet from Night Thrasher, and he was quick to grab hold of her before the light faded.
“Everybody here seems more than willing to fight except for you,” observed the leader of the New Warriors. “Now what is going on here!”
“You’re ruining it!” Dusk yelled in response. For some unexplainable reason, the black void of her covered face seemed to be shimmering. “This is my family! We’re the heroes and you’re ruining it so just stay away!”
The explosive force and deafening blast of sound were unexpected. Night Thrasher was thrown clear of Dusk, bounced off the side of a train car where the impact left a large dent. He struggled to his feet, and reached them at about the same time as Prodigy, Ricochet and Hornet. All four men saw the same thing, but only Ricochet had the words for it.
“Whoa.”
Energies in shades of black and deeper black swirled in around the space filled by Dusk. The shape of her body was still visible within the maelstrom, suspended in mid-air with arms and legs hanging limp. Prodigy took a few steps towards her, but Night Thrasher grabbed him by the shoulder, a gesture that was met violently.
“Let go of me!” Prodigy screamed as he pulled away from Night Thrasher and threw a punch which the other man easily avoided. “This is all your fault! Somehow you’re doing this to her!”
“Shut up Prodigy!” yelled Ricochet.
At that moment only Hornet was staring at Dusk and the growing swirl of energies around her. From his mouth came two words: “Negative Zone.”
Ricochet, Night Thrasher and Prodigy all stopped and looked at him. Hornet turned his head and kept talking. “We know that Dusk’s costume is connected to the Negative Zone in some way. She opened a portal the other day when we fought Blastaar.”
It took considerable effort for Ricochet to not add, “The Living Bomburst!”
“Maybe that portal never closed,” Hornet continued. “Or at least it stayed inside her, festering all this time. Could even explain our short tempers.”
“Negative vibes from the Negative Zone?” suggested Ricochet. “Sounds farfetched to me.”
“No, but microscopic particles of anti-matter coming through an unstable portal could affect the brain,” theorized Night Thrasher. “Erratic neuron activity or unusual chemical reactions would be the least of it. Pieces of us could be disintegrating molecule by molecule. That portal needs to be closed.” To Hornet he directed, “Radio the Avengers. Iron Man must have some technology that can-”
“My entire suit has been shorted out,” Hornet explained. “Right now I can’t move my arm and this suit is starting to get heavy.”
“I’ve got a feeling the Avengers will hear about this anyway.” Ricochet pointed. The portal was expanding upwards into the sky, and Dusk with it. Bolts of energy were crackling among dark clouds. “The way that’s going, we might not have time to wait them. Not to mention the hell Dusk must be going through.”
Decisions had to be made. None of the three Slingers seemed willing to make any, so Night Thrasher stepped in and acted. “Hornet, get that suit off. I’ll help you about seeing what systems would be most useful and can be repaired quickly. Ricochet, is there any danger yet?”
“Look up in the sky.” Quickly he added, “But I’m not sensing anything, so right now that portal’s not a threat to me yet.”
“Well, pay attention and if there’s anything then let me know. Uh, Prodigy.” Night Thrasher wracked his brain to think of something for Prodigy to do.
“Right, I’ll get Dusk out of there,” finished Prodigy.
Ricochet rolled his eyes at the remark. “Right. One problem though. She’s up there, we’re down here, and thanks to ‘Thrash here trashing Hornet’s armor none of us can fly.”
“I still can.” To the amazement of everybody, Prodigy slowly rose into the air.
“Wait, how can you…?” began Ricochet, but the wheels began turning in his mind.
Hornet finished the thought however. “The uniforms Black Marvel gave us; the ones that turned out to be from Mephisto. You kept yours?”
“Of course I did,” answered Prodigy.
“Mephisto?” asked Night Thrasher.
“Yeah, bad scheme we stopped it,” Ricochet told him dismissively. To Prodigy he asked, “That armor is bulletproof, allows you to fly and makes you super-strong. How come you were getting your ass kicked a minute ago?”
Prodigy shrugged as he continued to rise through the air. “Maybe I had to concentrate and this effect Dusk was having on us interfered with that.”
“Wait,” Night Thrasher tried to cut in. “If Mephisto provided your costumes, that changes everything. We’re dealing with a portal to Hell.”
Ricochet was shaking his head. “No, those were our original costumes. After we found out and ditched those, we got new ones. At least most of us did.” He glanced up at Prodigy.
“I built this armor myself based on the old one’s design,” Hornet explained. “A friend of mine online helped, Wwprowl78.”
“This costume was pretty much just homemade, except for the jacket which I found in a second-hand store. The discs too. Apparently they used to belong to belong to Nomad. Not Captain America, the loser.”
“That doesn’t look homemade or second hand!” Night Thrasher gestured up at the growing portal with Dusk at the center. “How’d Dusk get a costume like that if it wasn’t from Mephisto?”
Ricochet shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she found it in a trash can after Spider-Man dumped it. He had these identities before us, you know. None of us are original.”
Prodigy crashed to the ground, almost hitting Night Thrasher. As he climbed to his feet and wiped himself off, Prodigy said, “If that was a costume from Hell, you would think it’d react with mine somehow. But I have no affect against it at all.” He peered up at the portal, and shook his head. “My helmet’s thermal scanner isn’t working at all. Everything up there is stone cold.”
“What?” Night Thrasher reached to his own visor and adjusted the filters to thermal scanning. “Oh my god, your helmet is working. I’m not seeing any heat either.”
“Are you saying Dusk is dead?” asked Ricochet.
“It’s possible. She’s not moving.”
“Impossible. Maybe…maybe the portal is sucking in heat,” suggested Hornet.
“There’s heat around the portal,” said Prodigy. “And no sign that it’s being sucked in. Plus…I’m seeing heat in the portal itself. Just…not around Dusk. I only see her because she’s absent of heat.”
“No,” insisted Hornet. “There’s no way that she’s dead. It could be her costume that’s masking the heat. She was alive a few minutes until,” He’s head turned to look at Night Thrasher. “You! Her suit opened this portal because you attacked her! If she’s dead because of you I’ll-”
Hornet had lunged forward at Night Thrasher. It was a slow, brief little jump that Ricochet intercepted. He grabbed Hornet by the palsied arm and pushed him to the ground. Still encumbered in the heavy armor, Hornet struggled to rise but failed. Now it was Ricochet who faced Night Thrasher, with Prodigy next to both of them.
“Okay,” Night Thrasher said, “Hornet’s falling to pieces and we need to deal with this now. Dusk isn’t moving and as far as we can tell she’s not giving off heat. Are either of you willing to work under the assumption that she’s been dead since that portal ripped out of her?”
Prodigy opened his mouth to respond, with an angry expression on his face. But it was Ricochet who spoke first, with one word. “No.”
He continued before either of the other men could give a response. “As I understand it, bodies don’t lose heat this fact. If Dusk is dead, then she died before tonight.”
Behind them, Hornet was softly weeping. Beneath his helmet, Prodigy furrowed his brow. He had an idea of what Ricochet was getting at, and he didn’t like it. “Are you talking about the night on the rooftop?”
“Yes.”
Next thing Night Thrasher knew, he was between Prodigy and Ricochet, fighting to keep the former’s hands from the latter’s throat. This was significantly more difficult that when he previously overcame Prodigy
“You son of a bitch!” screamed Prodigy. “That wasn’t my fault!”
“That’s funny, because I remember some self-righteous prick that Dusk was out if she didn’t jump that gap!” Ricochet screamed back. “But when she couldn’t make it, you ran just as fast as the rest of us!”
“Both of you calm down!” yelled Night Thrasher. A final push managed to separate the two. “Now, when was this?”
“Over a year ago,” answered Ricochet, stilling glaring daggers at Prodigy. “In New York, back when we first started out.”
“When your suits had been provided by Mephisto?”
Prodigy nodded. “Even Dusk didn’t know how she survived. When we found out about…the deal, that Black Marvel had made, we figured that was the reason. An effect that lasted even after she lost the suit.”
“But apparently she’s been dead this entire time,” Ricochet thought out loud. “Or at least undead. And somehow her new suit’s connection to the Negative Zone reacted with that. Okay, so how do we – Danger!”
In one motion, Ricochet pushed both Night Thrasher and Prodigy away, while at the same time he dove in the opposite direction. A winged creature of some kind flew over them. A golden disc from Ricochet struck the creature, and it exploded in the air.
“Anti-matter is starting to get through,” realized Night Thrasher. “We need to close that portal now!” He turned and addressed Prodigy. “You’re the only one that can get to it.”
Prodigy nodded. “Only if nothing gets in my way.”
Ricochet was on his feet, stun discs in both his hands. “I got you covered.”
“You know what you have to do,” said Night Thrasher.
Again, Prodigy nodded, more slowly, after a second of hesitation. Then he was in the air, soaring towards the by-now gargantuan vortex of negative energy that seemed to fill the entire sky. Also in the sky were more winged beasts, bat-like and insectoid in appearance. Golden stun discs and black truncheons whizzed past Prodigy and he weaved only to avoid explosions.
“What exactly does he have to do?” Ricochet asked as he threw another series of stun discs.
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
The silence between Ricochet responded was deafening. “Yeah. I suppose I was just hoping you and Prodigy had thought up a brilliant alternative at the same time.”
Before long Prodigy was only a speck in the sky, barely perceivable against the gaping maw of darkness towards which he flew. From that distance only he could see Dusk, her form spread-eagle in the center of a tear between dimensions. The closer Prodigy got, the more he felt those energies from a whole other universe tearing through his body. But, perhaps shielded by the unholy power behind his costume, Prodigy flew on.
Soon Prodigy was there, floating level with the unmoving, cold body of Dusk. Behind that faceless mask, Prodigy imagined he could see her eyes. Terrified, pleading for another way. Rips were forming on his uniform, and pieces of the armor had begun to fall off. Prodigy did not have much time. With tears running down his own eyes, Prodigy placed his hands on Dusk’s head.
“I’m sorry.”
Long minutes ago, a loud explosion of force had signaled the opening of that other-dimensional tear. What Night Thrasher, Ricochet and Hornet witnessed in the Los Angeles sky on that night so late it was almost dawn was an implosion so powerful they actually felt a faint tug pulling them towards it. Light filled the sky so bright, Night Thrasher’s flash grenades paled in comparison. It was not soon until the light faded, and the three men were momentarily blinded.
Perhaps because of his helmet and eye filters, Night Thrasher was the first to recover. He saw a shape close to a hundred feet away. “Prodigy’s on the ground,” he said.
“A fall like that could have killed him.” Ricochet took off at a run. He was soon standing over Prodigy, Night Thrasher not far behind him. On the ground was a man, Prodigy, his uniform reduced to tatters. “I think he’s breathing.” Ricochet knelt down, placed a hand on bare skin that felt unusually warm. “Are you okay, pal? What happened?”
The shape moved under Ricochet’s touch. Prodigy looked up, his face red and covered with small cuts. Tears were mixed with the blood. “Dusk. Wh-where is she…?”
Night Thrasher gazed around the area. “Gone,” he replied. His gaze turned to Prodigy. “She’s not here. Prodigy, what happened?”
Like Hornet was still doing a hundred feet away, Prodigy began to weep. “I…I took her head in my h…my hands. Oh god…I tw-twisted it around. She…she’s d-dead, because of…because of me.”
“You broke the connection,” stated Night Thrasher. “The portal closed, and Dusk went with it. You saved the world, Prodigy.”
Those words did little to stop the tears.
Three men stood in the airport lobby. Two had carry-on bags, while the last was there only to see them off. A flight was announced as boarding, and one of the men with a bag extended his hand to the man with only one working arm.
“Goodbye pal,” Ricochet said to his friend Hornet. “You’re sure about staying? We still have your ticket right here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” replied Hornet as he accepted Ricochet’s hand. “I’m sure there’s a standby passenger who could use that more than I could.”
Ricochet grinned. “If it’s a supermodel, I’ll send you a thank you card.”
“The offer is always open,” Night Thrasher said.
“Thank you, but somebody should stay and watch after Prodigy. The hospital you got him into will help a lot, I’m sure, but somebody should be here.”
“Let me know how he’s doing.” With their final parting words, the two men broke away from Hornet and turned to board their plane. “So, you made much progress on Chris?” Ricochet asked Night Thrasher, referring to missing New Warriors member Bolt.
“Not much, no,” he responded. “It’s possible the others found a lead while I was away.”
“Here’s hoping they have a happy ending,” quipped Ricochet.
Half a day later, the two men stood in the middle of the Crash Pad, still a wreck since the last time Night Thrasher had seen it. None of the four women who were also members of the New Warriors were present.
Ricochet glanced around, kicked at a piece of broken metal, and sighed. “Oh yeah, this’ll take some work.”
“But it’s not beyond repair.” Night Thrasher and Ricochet turned to see Turbo walk into the Crash Pad and towards them. One of her arms ended at the wrist. “I see you were half successful,” she said to Night Thrasher. “Hornet?”
“He opted to stay there,” Night Thrasher replied. “The man can make his own decisions.” His eyes were fixed on Turbo’s missing hand. “Are you…?”
“Fine,” she answered. “Just a mishap when we rescued Bolt. Yeah,” she added at seeing Night Thrasher’s expression. “Spider-Woman had a premonition. He’s still in the hospital, with the other girls keeping him company. Team’s still together, ‘Thrash.”
That was exactly the kind of thing the leader of the New Warriors wanted to hear. “So then, let’s get you a new hand and move on to the next adventure.”
THE END
Author’s Note
I’m not entirely sure if I was approached to write New Warriors or not. I know Cory Wiegel, Editor-in-Chief of M2K at the time, had made it known on the mailing list that he wanted to see the titles dangling plots resolved, so it may be that I just took him up on the offer. At any rate I saw an opportunity to be more involved in the fanfic group and I took it
All I had was the knowledge that Bolt disappeared in a flash of light, and Ricochet and Hornet left to apparently reform the Slingers, two events that had apparently been intended to be followed up in separate titles but never were. So I came up with some ideas, got approval, and the result is the last three issues you have all just read. I was told that another writer had ideas for Hornet, so I opted to leave him and just bring Ricochet back to the team. Hopefully you’ll see him elsewhere soon.
As for the rest of the New Warriors, I’m not sure. To be honest my mind is at something of a blank as to further adventures, so whomever carries on the title from now on it won’t be me. Maybe Bolt will go back with the team or he’ll get snatched for an X-title. It’s possible that Amazing Spider-Man will get picked up by a brilliant new writer who will decide to use Spider-Woman. Who really knows what the future has in store for the New Warriors?
All I know is this: I’ll be right there with the rest of the readers the moment a new issue hits the web.
- Stephen Crosby