Two heavily armored helicopters sliced through the air and over the desert terrain. The blades chopped through the atmosphere so fast that it appeared as if they were moving in slow motion. Their engines had been specially modified to be whisper silent. Any residential areas they flew over were completely unaware of their presence.
Two helicopters carrying two special passengers headed to the same place, for two very different reasons.
“Base, this is Jailbird One,” said the pilot of the first helicopter. “Requesting landing clearance, over.”
After a short pause, a voice squawked over the pilot’s headset.
{{ Copy, Jailbird One. You are cleared for landing on launch pad Alpha, over. }}
The pilot of the second silent aircraft made a similar request and was told to land on launch pad Beta. The two helicopters swooped in to their designated landing zones with practiced precision. Both seasoned veterans, the pilots had made numerous trips to and from the installation and could probably do the landing in their sleep. It was a good thing, too, since the only light for what seemed like miles was coming from the bright floodlights atop the installation’s corner towers.
As the massive rotor blades came to a halt, bay doors slid open on each of the crafts. From the first helicopter exited a man in green armor, followed by a man in an grey jumpsuit, followed by another man in green armor. The man in the grey jumpsuit yelled in protest, insisting he should be released immediately.
“…away from me! Show some respect! Don’t you know who I am?” he yelled. “You should be cowering in terror!”
“We know who you are,” said one of the men in green armor, looking down at a clipboard he was carrying. “Inmate 44376: Fester, Norton G.”
“Frog-Man, the Prowler, and even Spider-Man have all been crushed by my power!” Norton balked. “You fools are in the presence of greatness. You know these bonds won’t hold me for long. No one can contain the power of the Looter!”
“You bet,” said the other man in green armor. “Go ahead and try to bust out, I’m beggin’ ya. You’ll have a dozen Guardsmen on you before you know it.”
“Imbeciles…” Norton mumbled. If they only knew that he had ingested part of the strange meteorite that originally gave him his powers just moments before he had been apprehended. While studying the strange rock, he theorized that by ingesting a small portion of the meteorite he could safely increase his already great strength. During the transport he could feel the now internalized power building within him, ready to be unleashed. He would strike in mere moments and crush these fools.
From within the second dark helicopter emerged a tall man in a tailored silver suit. He emitted an aura of power about himself, the kind that one might notice from a high level executive or a trained special forces operative. The manner in which he carried himself screamed confidence. In his left hand was a thick, black briefcase that must have weighed a considerable amount. If the briefcase’s weight upset the man’s balance his muscular frame didn’t show it.
“Prisoner transportation, Inmate 44376,” said the leading Guardsman into a wall-mounted communications unit. They stood in front of the East entrance to the large complex, waiting for the watch commander to grant them access. “Ready for deposit. Authorization: Guardsman 0013.”
{{ Acknowledged. Opening East doors, }} said the surprisingly clear electronic voice. {{ Welcome back, Monty. }}
“Hope you’re ready to lose all your money in poker tonight, Carl,” replied the green armored man. “Once we drop off this yahoo, I’ll be--”
*CRACK!*
The Looter let out a wobbly laugh as he released his grip on the back of the Guardsman’s head. The green armored skull was now imbedded in the wall-mounted intercom and the Looter’s palm had left a perfect molded impression of his hand in the helmet.
The other Guardsman behind Norton powered up his gauntlets, ready to stun the prisoner into unconsciousness. The adrenaline and internal strength now pumping through his bloodstream, Norton rushed the armored man before the blast could be released, giving him a dual uppercut that sent the guard flying. Before the Guardsman hit the ground, Norton flexed his muscles and shattered the bonds holding his wrists together.
“I told you! I said you couldn’t hold me!” Norton proclaimed. “I’m stronger than ever now and my steel grip will crush all of you! Behold the strength of the Loot--”
A powerhouse of a right cross cut off Norton’s speech. The force of the punch caused his head to turn as he fell to the ground, knocked unconscious. The moment almost seemed like something out of a boxing match.
“Steel grip; glass jaw,” said the man from the second helicopter. He shook his right hand slightly, as if he had just washed his hand and was flicking water off. His heavy briefcase was still in his left hand.
A split-second later, an entire squad of green armored Guardsmen dropped from the sky and flooded the launch pad. One landed next to the tall man, three gold stripes over his left breast distinguishing him as a higher rank of some sort than the other Guardsmen.
“Thanks for the assist,” he said.
“My pleasure,” replied the tall man before asking, “Stuff like this happen often?”
A small chuckle made its way through the green helmet.
“A building full of super-villains and you’re bound to have a couple problems,” he replied. “Welcome to the Vault, Mr. Rhodes.”
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Marvel 2000 Proudly presents... |
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| “Thanks
for lending a hand yesterday, Mr. Rhodes,” said a heavyset man sitting
behind a very expensive wooden desk.
“Like I told the Guardsmen, my pleasure, Mr. Jones,” replied James Rhodes. The pair sat in the large, air-conditioned office of the warden, Miguel Jones. The smell of the oak desk filled the room along with the cigar in Jones’ mouth. Jim had arrived at the prison installation the day before and, upon arrival, helped to take down a new prisoner trying to make an escape. The whole ordeal had only lasted a few seconds, but it had given Jim a good look at how prepared the prison’s security force was. “Always nice to throw a monkey in the solitary hole, eh?” said Jones as he leveled a gaze at Jim and shuffled some papers on his desk. “So, I’ve got all your paperwork here and things are looking good. I assume you brought everything you need? Clothes, personal items, that sort of thing?” “Yep, everything I need. I was told to expect minimal contact with the outside for two-week periods. What are the restrictions on that?” “Well, like you said, it’s minimal. We restrict access to the outside for our personnel because we’re surrounded by the craziest and most powerful fuckers on the planet. An entire building full of super-villains and we’re the only ones here watching them. No Captain America, no Iron Man, no Fantastic Four…just us.” Jim nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.” “You been shown around yet?” “No, sir,” answered Jim. “My transport got in a little late last night so I just went to my quarters.” “Okay then,” Jones said, standing up. “Let’s go introduce you to the Vault.” The United States Maximum Security Installation for the Incarceration of Superhuman Criminals, affectionately refereed to as the Vault, rested in the heart of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Originally three levels going straight down into the terrain, a fourth level had recently been added even though most outgoing documents from the facility made no mention of it. That fourth level remained mostly inactive for the time being, although Miguel Jones had his plans for the space. Ryker’s Island predated the Vault but it was soon realized that the facility was incapable of housing the world’s deadliest super-criminals. The U.S. government stepped in and usurped control over Project: Pegasus, a scientific endeavor that had developed technology to contain certain villains, in order to develop and construct the Vault. “We’re on the top floor right now, of course,” said Jones. “This is mainly for receiving new prisoners, meetings between the monkeys and their lawyers, and even conjugal visits. The Guardsmen barracks is down that hall on the left and you already saw your quarters across the hall. Your office is up here also, just passed the barracks.” Jones moved to a window and pointed out to a structure that was separate from the Vault. “That used to be the administration building but now we use it as a security checkpoint and a landing pad for helicopters, as well as coordinate a few special things. A monorail provides transportation between the buildings.” Jim followed Jones to the center of the first floor where a large freight elevator rested. After waiting momentarily, the pair entered the elevator and began descending to the second level. “This elevator runs down the middle of the whole place and is the only way to get between floors,” said Jones. “When we move a prisoner around, we fix these special restraints on them which bolt to the floor of the elevator right here.” He pointed to the floor where some sort of locking mechanism was built in. “That opens up, we slide the bottom part of the restraint in, and it clamps shut.” “Any problems when moving prisoners around between floors?” Jim asked. “Hell yes. Nothing that a quick blast from a Guardsmen can’t cure though.” After another moment, the elevator came to stop and the doors slid open. “Here’s the second level,” Jones said. “Take a look.” Jim stepped out of the elevator and onto a walkway overlooking a large open area. Beneath him sat dozens of men and women in grey jumpsuits with numbers on their backs; he estimated at least a hundred. “General population?” Jim asked. “You bet,” replied Jones as he puffed out cigar smoke. “The previous warden had most everyone in lockdown, but now I’ve got them playing nice with each other. Anyone who has biological powers is fixed with our patented dampening collars. We have dampening units in the walls, too, all throughout the facility.” “Why put them all in general population? From here I can see Otto Octavius and Adrian Toomes. Isn’t that just asking for trouble?” “You better believe it,” Jones chuckled. “Especially those two. You see I was in charge of a prison in L.A. before I came here. Nothing broke the monkeys down like them fighting amongst themselves. Part of their punishment the way I see it.” “Okay,” Jim said, slight hesitation in his voice.
“Mierda! Estas manillas son demasiado apretadas!” “Speak English,” commented a Guardsman. “I failed high school Spanish.” “Idiota estúpido,” replied a latino man wearing an grey jumpsuit. “The cuffs, they are too tight. I can’t feel my hands anymore, you cerdo gigante…” “You’ll live. Hawkins! Get over here and take the prisoner down to the medical bay for an entrance physical.” Another man wearing identical green armor ran up to the pair and took the Spanish man by the arm. “Yes, sir,” Hawkins said. “Let’s go, Tarantula.” “My fame precedes me I see,” the Spanish man said. “Shut up.” The Guardsman named Hawkins pulled Tarantula down the hallway to the elevator in the center of the complex. Once the doors closed, Hawkins clasped the lower part of the prisoner’s restraints to the locking mechanism on the floor, ensuring he couldn’t take off anywhere. “My predecessors were failures,” Tarantula informed Hawkins. “I was chosen because people know to fear me. You’re wise to restrain me so. Tonto bajo de la clase…” Hawkins reached back and slapped the Spanish man on the back of the head. “Cut it out. How do I know you aren’t calling me a low class fool or something? I swear if they didn’t pay me--” “You are a fool,” Tarantula cut in, a high level of arrogance in his voice. “My government chose me because they know I am a killer of the worst kind. If these restraints weren’t here I would--” “Shut up. I read your file. You were caught during a SHIELD raid. You’ve never even gone up against any heroes. No one outside these walls even knows who you are, and I doubt most of the people inside know who you are either. And you think you’re a killer? We’ve got real killers like the Lizard and Bullseye in here. So why don’t you just keep your trap shut before I toss you in a cell with them?” “Cerdo verde ignorante…” Tarantula muttered under his breath. Somewhere far away in a white room filled with sophisticated lab equipment, three men and a woman stood over a table with a large, inert, synthetic person laying on it. One of the men nodded to the woman, signaling her to type in the appropriate coded sequence to her hand held computer, which then activated the android. :: Systems online. Recovering files. Error! Files missing. Request command :: “Your files were lost during your last battle,” said one of the men. His face, along with the other scientists, was covered completely by the headpiece of a full body suit. “We recovered you and reactivated your subsystems but all your previous files were permanently corrupted. We have need of your abilities so your first mission will be to replace those missing files.” :: Mission parameters? :: asked the synthetic being. “The super-villain penitentiary in Colorado known as the Vault will be your target,” said the female in the group. “Access the complex and obtain as many files as you can. Return here when your mission is complete.” :: Level of force required? :: “Deadly.” The android rose off the table and stood on two strong feet. The white light in the room shimmered off of his green skin, his face nonexistent except for two eyes. His features were subtle and nondescript, almost fluid. “We have acquired a few files for you to download before you begin your mission,” said one of the men, who then turned to one of his associates. “Bring the files in, please.” Across the room, a door slid open and three ragged looking people that had their hands and legs clasped together were pushed into the room. Sophisticated restraints held their appendages together, which promptly opened and fell to the floor once the female scientist pressed a button on her hand held computer. The three people looked at each in confusion and then back at the android. The three worn individuals all looked tired and hungry, as if they had been held captive for days. Worry and fear could all be seen in their eyes. “These are your files. Download them and await further instruction.” :: Acknowledged. :: The android swiftly strode across the room and cocked back his fist to land a punch on one of the ragged people. Terror swept over the man’s face and he reacted instinctively, raising his hand up in defense. To his surprise, he caught the android’s balled fist and stopped it from smashing into his face. :: Power identified – enhanced strength; class 12. Files modified. :: The android leaned forward and pushed against the man’s hand, knocking him off balance. “What the hell?” the worn out man muttered. “When we obtained you three,” spoke up the female scientist, “you were still unaware of your dormant paranormal abilities. Our automaton here will copy your powers and then dispose of you.” “Dispose?” asked another of the worn captives, the stress in his voice obvious. The android then lifted his right leg up into the air above the fallen prisoner. With a cold and calculated movement, the leg crushed down onto the man’s neck, severing it completely. Blood splashed into the air, coating the android’s green skin. “The monster killed him!” yelled one of the still living prisoners, who began to float a few inches off the floor. “I-I-I’m going to die…oh no…” “Oh, God!” screamed the other captive who had remained silent up to this point. “God…they’re going to kill us! Oh, God help us!” As the cry out to his Lord passed his lips, his eyes began to glow a bright orange light. Energy quickly built up and spewed out of his eyes, slamming into the android. The automaton stumbled back briefly before regaining his composure, seemingly unaffected by the attack. :: Elevated stress levels causing release of energy. Powers identified – optic energy dispersal and flight. Files modified. :: The android’s eyes then glowed a bright orange just like the man’s and he proceeded to bathe them in energy. Power erupted from the machine’s eyes, blistering the skin of the two remaining prisoners. After a moment, the barrage ended and the two captives fell to the floor, smoke rising from their bodies. The android floated off the ground and spun in the air to face the scientists. Orange energy still crackled around his eyes, tinting his green skin a strange hue. “Excellent,” said one of the mysterious male scientists. “Now go to the Vault and download as many files as you can.” “Octavius,” said the elderly Adrian Toomes, also known as the Vulture. “We need to talk.” Otto Octavius, known to the world as the villainous Dr. Octopus, turned away from his lunch to meet Toomes’ gaze. Their eyes didn’t meet because of Octavius’ sunglasses, which he was rarely without. “Anything for an old friend,” he said with a sneer. “Word is you’re pulling some muscle together in here. Hammerhead already made me an offer, so what can you give me?” “What makes you think I want anything to do with you?” Octavius asked. “I understand your recent endeavor with the Owl in New York is what sent you to this place. You were taken down like an amateur. You’re passed your prime, Toomes.” * * [M2K’s Daredevil #15 – D] “If anyone is passed his prime, it’s you, Octavius!” Toomes scoffed. “How many times have you been sent here? Huh? You always told me and the others how smart you were and how your brilliance was never appreciated, yet here you are. In prison with the rest of us.” “My current surroundings fit into my plans more than you understand. Plans that you shall not be privy to nor a part of.” “Fine. Hammerhead will pay better anyway. You were always so cheap.” “You misunderstand, you filthy old bird,” Octavius said as he raised his hand, signaling another at his table to stand up. “The only thing you’ll do is pay a visit to the doctors.” “Oh, please, you can’t threaten--ACK!” The man whom Octavius had signaled to stand slammed his fist against Toomes’ face and continued assaulting him. Madness filled his eyes as he knocked the Vulture’s teeth loose, blood dripping on the concrete floor. An almost childish smile crept onto the thug’s face as inmates from other nearby tables caught sight of the beating and began cheering. Toomes fell to the floor coughing up blood, but the man didn’t let up his assault as he began kicking the elderly man. Several Guardsmen watched from their various positions around the cafeteria but remained still. “Enough, Fester,” said Octavius who had turned back to his meal. Norton Fester, also known as the criminal called the Looter, flicked the blood off of his hands and sat back down across from Octavius. One could almost see the adrenaline rush he had received from the vicious beating he had delivered. “Not even a full day in the Vault and you’re already proving useful to me,” said Octavius through a mouthful of food. “I’m surprised you even accepted my offer, seeing as you have a reputation for being a loner.” “I may be a loner, but I also know how to get respect in prison,” said Fester. “Even with this collar they forced me to wear I’m still stronger than everyone else in here. Strength is the only thing they’ll understand.” “You’re right about that, my friend,” commented Octavius. “In here, strength brings respect.” Toomes slowly crawled away, a trail of blood and teeth behind him. Finally, two Guardsmen dropped to the floor and picked him up, carrying him out of the cafeteria and toward the medical bay. “And respect brings power.” The medical bay of the Vault rested on the East side of the complex, tucked away on the second floor. Stainless steel walls lined the long room with several nurses and doctors moving swiftly along the floor. The air smelled stale, like it had been sprayed with antiseptic. “Our medical capabilities are better than your average hospital,” said Jones as both he and Jim strode into the room. “They have to be. Dealing with advanced biological humans, we have to be quite versatile and in touch with the most modern of equipment.” “It’s been my experience that hospitals give ample opportunity for someone to try and break out,” said Jim, taking the room in. “The security lessens when they think the bad guy has a few broken bones and the flu.” “We don’t make that mistake, I assure you. The last two wardens of this place both met with violent deaths and I’ve made sure security is tight at all times.” “Mierda!” yelled a Spanish man across the room. “Watch where you put that thing, amigo!” “Ah,” commented Jones. “That’s our latest contestant, Juan de la Vega. All new arrivals are required to undergo a strict physical before admitted to general population. We don’t want any outbreaks of some weird disease.” “Let’s you make sure they aren’t smuggling in weapons, too?” “Bingo. Follow me to the infirmary section of the medical bay, Mr. Rhodes.” The pair headed to the back of the medical bay, passing the Spanish man uttering more curse words in his native tongue. Jim noticed a few others being poked and prodded but didn’t recognize any of them. One had purple skin and a distant look to his eyes. “Back here is where we stick the invalids, prisoners who need constant medical attention or drugs, and the really nasty ones that need sedated,” said Jones. Jones slid a key card through a box on the large steel door and then pressed his palm to a panel. After a moment, the thick door pulled open to reveal another large room much like the first. The only difference was the lights were dimmer and there were cages around the beds along the walls. In the first cage to his right, Jim saw a woman with long, dark hair and scars across her face. She lay unconscious on a mat on the floor of the cage, an IV sticking into her arm. “Typhoid Mary,” Jones said. “Interesting story to go along with her. She’s a fiesty one, that’s for damn sure.” Jones stepped further into the room. Jim passed other cages with the Ring Master, Titannia, and a few others he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light. However, a cage a few down from Typhoid Mary’s housed a man he instantly recognized. “Bullseye.” “That’s right,” replied Jones. “He’s in a coma. One of the deadliest men on the planet is in a coma. We’re making sure he never comes out of it, too.” * * [Bullseye fell into a coma in M2K’s Daredevil #10 – D] Jim’s eyes glanced over the infamous assassin and focused on a cage that had obviously been isolated from the rest. Electrodes were hung on the bars and several empty IV bags were strewn about the floor, dried blood over their plastic edges. “And that one back there?” Jim asked, pointing. “Oh, that’s one of our prize guests. Deacon Frost.” The man inside the cage stirred at the mention of his name and came as close as he could without touching the electrified bars. He smiled and Jim could make out sharp fangs meshed in with his otherwise perfect teeth. “Warden,” Frost said. “So nice to see you again, you tubby fuck. This stock blood you’ve been giving me is shit. I need some fresh stuff or I’m gonna pass out down here.” “Shut your mouth,” Jones responded. “I have to keep you alive; I don’t have to keep you healthy.” “Who’s the black guy? One of your politicians you’re always bringing around here? Kissing more liberal ass, huh, fatstuff?” “Keep it up, vampire,” Jones said with a broad smile. “Let’s see what happens when I just give you pure hemoglobin instead of stock blood. I bet your pale skin will shrivel up dry.” Jones ended the comment with a push of a button on the cage. Electricity arced across the bars, sizzling the stale air. None of it reached Frost, but he backed up on reflex anyway. Jones turned back toward the entrance, leaving Frost muttering behind them. “The next floor down is entirely cell blocks,” Jones said when they reached the central elevator. “The different blocks are divided up by power levels. Even with all the dampeners on, we like to put the big ones in maximum security. Makes it easier to--” {{ Warden Jones to the Strongroom, }} boomed an overheard speaker that reverberated in the hallways. {{ Warden Jones to the Strongroom. Code: White. }} “Well, well,” said Jones as he and Jim entered the elevator. “Look’s like we’ll be skipping the third floor and heading to the Strongroom.” “What’s a Code: White?” “Unknown entity approaching the installation that isn’t responding to contact.” “And the Strongroom?” “That’s where we take care of problems like this and where you’ll be officially assuming your role as Security Chief.” The green android rushed through the air at over one hundred miles per hour. He wasn’t far from the Vault now, which meant he would soon be able to break in and take all the files available. His orders remained the same: access files and destroy original copies. The files he had already downloaded would be enough to get into the facility and take down any opposition. Automatons felt no emotion, so there was no fear or remorse in his entire being at the notion of killing hundreds or people. For the Super-Adaptoid, there was nothing that mattered except the completion of his mission. Letter From Prison After lots of negotiations with writers and various conversations with editors, Vault #1 is finally here! I have high hopes for this series and lots planned. Rest assured this won’t just be a series revolving around Jim Rhodes (even though he’s awesome and deserves a series of his own), but instead it will focus on the different people within the walls of Marvel’s super-villain penitentiary. I'll be touching on various stories in each issue that may or may not overlap with one another as time goes on. Special thanks to Chris Munn for helping me work out some things, by the way. His Thunderbolts series is what originally inspired me to get this going (what a long time ago that way...). Next issue: the Adaptoid is coming in fast. Needless to say, there’s going to be a big fight. Plus, Doc Ock has it out with Hammerhead and the Tarantula is introduced to the joys of prison. Oh, did I mention the Walrus will be making an appearence? -D.
Golightly |
