“Come back to bed, darling.”

The young man glanced over his shoulder at the sensual women on the bed. Two of them were draped over a third, and none of them were wearing anything but the bed sheets. He didn’t know who had spoken, but it didn’t much matter when he didn’t know any of their names in the first place.

“In a bit,” he replied. “I have some work to do first.”

Despite the moans of protest from the bedroom, he sauntered out into the hallway and across to his private study. He could thank his father for instituting such a work ethic in him, although it had been done without his actual knowledge. He had never met his father, instead learning all he could from his recordings and meticulous notes. He had raised himself through his father’s vicarious electronic eye and he liked to think that had he met his father that he would have been proud.

The young man sat at his desk and flipped on his personal computer. The screen flashed to life, revealing mounds of information that focused around a single subject: James Rhodes.

After intense research he had discovered that his father had been murdered by Rhodes, and thus the vendetta that had cost him most of his family fortune had been launched. Some of his hired investigators had tried to dissuade him by presenting false evidence to the contrary, but he knew the truth.

For a time he had used others to try and strike at Rhodes indirectly. The Super-Adaptoid and the assassin Arcade had been sent to the Vault on his behalf, but both had failed. With his connections in A.I.M. now dissolved, he was forced to move forward solely on his own.

The program running on his computer finished its work. The Vault security profiles had been changed to his preference and his false identity had been inputted into the system. Tomorrow he would begin work as a new Guardsman, under the direct supervision of John Jameson and James Rhodes themselves.

He would get as close as possible to the man he held responsible for his father’s death, and then he would quietly and precisely slit his throat.

The young man looked up at his father’s portrait hanging over the fireplace in his study, imagining that Obadiah Stane granted him a small smirk of satisfaction.

---

The pair of pilots for Jailbird Two began to shut down the vehicle’s engines as the refueling team emerged from the hanger and advanced to their position. It had taken them an hour longer than expected to reach Genosha due to a storm front moving through their flight path, but they had landed peacefully enough.

War Machine, Wysper, and Sentry exited the craft and surveyed the area, with Bullseye in tow. The “welcoming committee” that awaited them consisted of two men, only one of whom spoke. He approached Wysper, extending his hand and nodding. She took it, conversed for a brief moment, and then motioned for War Machine and Sentry to join her.

“Gomi says we’re cleared for operation,” Wysper told them. “The target was moving on schedule to his drop point twenty-five miles off the coast from here.”

“And Magneto doesn’t have a problem with us forcibly removing a mutant from Genosha?” War Machine inquired.

“It’s in our sovereign state’s best interests to have a known drug pusher apprehended,” Gomi replied. “Whether he’s a mutant or not. He gives Genosha a bad name.”

“As agreed we’ll be outbound within three hours,” Wypser told Gomi.

Gomi nodded and nudged his partner to get back into the jeep they had used to travel out to the landing pad. The jeep roared to life and the pair of mutants disappeared back into the hanger.

“Twenty-five miles offshore?” War Machine blurted out. “How are we supposed to get Bullseye out there?”

“You could always let me hitch a ride on your back,” the crazed killer said with a sneer. “I promise to behave. After all, my sentence depends on it, doesn’t it.”

“What kind of deal did you cut with this asshole?” Sentry demanded under his breath.

One of the pilots from Jailbird Two unhooked a side door, pulling down a ramp onto the helipad. He guided down a small, one-man, ATV type vehicle and left it beside the helicopter. “All gassed up and ready to roll,” the pilot said. “Hover jet conversion was tested this morning. Should work fine over the water.”

Bullseye eyed up the one-man vehicle and a glimmer of hope and promise flashed over his eyes. He cracked his knuckles expectantly and took a step toward the ATV. Wysper stepped in front of him, cutting him off. He looked at his own reflection in her helmet and smiled.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that the same technology that keeps you under my watch is packed with enough punch to wipe that grin right off your face,” she said. “You move more than five hundred yards away from my armor in any direction and you’re a vegetable again.”

Bullseye threw up his hands in an innocent gesture, but he maintained his solid stare. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m yours to command.”

“Good.” She handed him a small earpiece. “Switch this on so we can communicate with you. Let’s move out.”

Wysper ignited her boot jets and leapt into the air. Sentry and War Machine traded a quick glance before following her lead, joining her in hovering in midair. Bullseye threw his leg over the ATV and pressed the ignition switch, churning the metal beast to life. With the flick of another switch the wheels flipped onto their sides and powerful jets of air streamed out from within. The ATV rose into the air beside them where Bullseye winked at the members of the Jury.

“Looks like Fury’s old flying car,” Rhodes commented. “SHIELD issue this?”

“We commandeered it,” Wysper replied as she shot off through the air.

Bullseye rocketed off after her, although the ATV could only fly around twenty feet off the ground as opposed to her altitude of one hundred feet. War Machine and Sentry flanked his position, ensuring that he wouldn’t fly off on his own, regardless of the warning that Wysper had issued.

They followed Wypser, staying relatively low to the water’s surface. “Vanisher keeps pretty tight security on his drops,” Wysper said over the comlink connection. “We’ll need to stay under any surveillance he might have set up. Once we’re spotted we need to move in hard and take them down.”

“Them?” Sentry inquired. “What kind of security are we looking at?”

“The Commission reports that Vanisher has been working with some old associates of his, although we’re not entirely sure who.”

“Maybe I’ll see some friendly faces,” Bullseye commented as he kicked up the throttle on the ATV.

After flying fifteen miles offshore their destination became evident. The only thing that could be seen in the open water grew larger and larger until the bulky, misshapen rig of an oil platform took form. Looking through his forward scanners, War Machine could see that the rig looked mostly deserted.

“I’m not picking up any activity,” War Machine said over the comlink.

“I’m registering heat signatures coming from the housing bay,” Sentry replied. “Switch to thermal.”

The HUD inside War Machine’s helmet flipped over from scanning mode to infrared detection. Red and white lines traced the scene in front of him, revealing hot and cool spots all around the rig. The massive pumps that sucked the crude from below the surface of the water were a dark blue, marking them as inactive. The cabin resting in the center of the rig, however, was lit up like a Christmas tree: red, white, yellow, and orange blotches coated the bay. Two distinct signatures were present and War Machine quickly placed markers on them so he could distinguish one from the other.

“Hold positions,” Wysper ordered.

“I was promised a bit of bloodshed on this vacation,” Bullseye said. “The longer I wait the more antsy in my pantsy I get.”

“You’ll hold your position, Bullseye,” Wypser repeated. “We need to make visual contact before we move to intercept, otherwise the accord we made with Genosha will be voided.”

Another pair of heat signatures popped up on the other side of the rig. The pair of red blotches made their way around equipment until they stopped near the center, completely out in the open.

War Machine switched off his thermal scanning and zoomed in to view the faces of the newcomers. The two men looked unfamiliar, but Rhodes quickly used the software in his armor to run a facial recognition program.

“Hans and Frederick Shuman,” he said over the comlink. “A couple of drug-peddling brothers from Europe. I assume they’re who Vanisher is meeting with?”

“They’re cornering the trade on MGH-laced heroin in Spain and Germany,” Wysper replied. “The Commission has been keeping track of them. This is good. This is very good.”

“You have a weird definition of that word,” Sentry responded. “So, what are we waiting for? You have your visual confirmation.”

“Not of Vanisher,” Wysper said. “We can’t risk an international incident here. Bullseye, flank the rear of the rig. I don’t want our brothers getting away.”

Bullseye mocked a salute and sped off over the rushing water, piloting the converted ATV with ease. Sentry stared after him. “Never thought I’d see the day…” he muttered.

“Look alive,” War Machine said. “We’ve got our targets in sight.”

The other figures that hadn’t yet been identified on the rig had finally moved out into the open, joining the Shuman brothers. Vanisher easily stood out from the group with his bald scalp and thin, lanky body. On either side of him was a blonde and a brunette woman, each staring at the pair of drug dealing brothers.

The audio receptors in War Machine’s helmet had no trouble in picking out the conversation on board the oil platform. He chanced a quick look at Bullseye but the killer had swept out of sight behind the rig by now. He focused intently on Vanisher and his cronies.

“Frederick, I thought you told me your worthless brother would never show his face in front of me again,” Vanisher said. “After he botched the last pick-up I assumed he would be smart enough to avoid me. That’s why I came in person, after all. I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have any problems this time around.”

“Fuck you, mutie,” Hans spat out at the master criminal.

Frederick placed a hand on Hans’ shoulder to calm him. “My brother is passionate, yes?” Frederick stated. “Please, excuse his behavior. He wishes to make amends. We both do. We do not want to hurt business.”

“What are we waiting for now?” Sentry demanded over the comlink. “Wysper, I’ve had about all I can take of this. You call this leading a field team?”

“I want Bullseye in position before we make our move. Just wait another minute.” Wysper flipped off her open comlink channel, but War Machine and Sentry both noticed her broadcasting on another frequency. After a brief moment she flipped frequencies again.

“Jamie, Gina,” Vanisher said. “Take the brothers to the shipment. Make sure you get the money first this time.”

“Whoa,” Rhodes said. “That’s Jamie Zimmerman and Gina Palumbo, two of Vanisher’s teammates from the New Enforcers. You were right, Wypser, he’s working with old partners on this.”

Sentry called up the appropriate files on his HUD. “Blitz and Tangle, huh?” he said. “No sweat. Any chance the rest of his old buddies are hiding somewhere?”

“Negative,” Wypser replied. “The Commission has been following them closely, trying to make connections to Vanisher. These three are all that’s left. Get ready to move in.”

Wysper flipped frequencies once again. War Machine noticed and commanded his armor to scan all broadcasting frequencies until he latched on to the one she was using. His eyes widened as he heard what she was saying.

“zzz–lseye, take the shot as soon as you’re in position. No one leaves alive, do you understand?”

War Machine slipped his visor into thermal mode and zoomed in on the far side of the platform where Bullseye was supposed to be flanking from. He saw the red blotch of his body skulking along a bulkhead barely a hundred feet behind the Shuman brothers.

“Move in!” War Machine hollered over the comlink. He kicked up his thrust and burned his boot jets to accelerate toward the oil platform.

“Hell yeah!” Sentry cried out as he mimicked War Machine. “Let’s kick some ass!”

War Machine and Sentry dove for the platform with Wysper unwillingly in tow. The occupants immediately turned their attention to the incoming roaring boot jets of their armors. The Shuman brothers cast an unruly look to Vanisher and his partners just before they split up and went for cover behind a set of bulkheads.

Sentry laid down a blanket of suppression fire to keep Blitz and Tangle at bay, although it did little to dissuade them from joining the fray. Blitz shook out of her trench coat and ran her fingers through her died blonde hair. She sidestepped Sentry’s concussive repulsor blasts, grinned, and leapt into the air much higher than a normal human should be able to do.

Sentry came in low and Blitz crashed down onto his back. The sudden added weight threw off his flight path and he skidded to a halt at Tangle’s feet. The brunette leaned down, smirked, and said, “And here I thought this was going to be a boring day.”

“Wrap him up and let’s move,” Blitz said. “Vanisher will leave without us.”

“Like he hasn’t done that shit before.” Tangle sighed and extended her fingers out to Sentry. Ribbons of organic twine shot out from her fingertips, ensnaring Sentry around the waste, throat, and appendages. Within seconds he was completely entrapped within thick lashes of the villainess’ tendrils.

“He’s actually paying us this time, though,” Blitz said. “Don’t knock—AHH!”

The MDR cannon mounted on War Machine’s shoulder began to power up again, readying another shot for Tangle. Blitz fell forward, her back smoking from the blast that Rhodes’ had smacked her with.

“Make this easy on yourselves,” War Machine said. “Stand down. Don’t get back up.”

“Relax, officer,” Tangle said. She raised her hands over her head. “I promise to behave.”

Thin spindles of organic mesh began to unravel from Tangle’s fingers reaching down the tops of her raised hands. In just a few more seconds she would have the appropriate length to slash out at War Machine, hopefully catching him off guard. Her tendrils could be used like whips, slashing through even his armor. Just a few more seconds…

Tangle felt something wet touch her neck. She suddenly felt dizzy and fell to her knees. She leaned forward and she saw a few drops of blood drip from her ears to the solid steel floor. The warm red fluid streamed down her ears and she wavered for a moment before face-planting onto the hard deck surface.

War Machine recognized the assault for what it was, concentrated sonics, and saw Wypser hovering barely twenty feet overhead. The stealth tech incorporated into her armor was good enough to get around even his own sensors, which he made a note of. He was beginning to seriously distrust whoever was piloting the Wysper armor, especially after what he had heard over the comlink.

“You stay put,” War Machine ordered as he jabbed a finger toward Wysper. “Jameson and I will clean this up. You’re relieved of command.”

“You don’t have the authority,” Wypser shot back.

“Try me and we’ll see just how much authority I’ve got.”

Sentry was back on his feet. The Shuman brothers were keeping him pinned down with a barrage of blaster fire from where they were cowering behind a stack of oil piping. The shots merely bounced off his green, thick armor, but they packed enough of a punch to keep him from getting airborne again. His frustration was mounting as he tried to draw a bead on his targets.

His armor was basically an upgraded version of the standard Guardsmen armor. When within the Vault walls he could access any of the other Guardsmen armors within range, effectively making him their commander in more ways than one. Here, so far away from the prison facility, he was humbled to more limiting abilities.

He would have to resort to sheer power to accomplish his goal here. Charging his repulsors, he watched the power levels on his HUD climb until they reached their max. Then he shifted the focused power into his converters and ran it through the EMP matrix, and finally filtered it into his grappling beam.

The blaster fire finally stopped and he took his chance.

A blue streak of electromagnetic energy condensed between his fists and then streaked out toward the oil piping that the Shuman brothers hid behind. The magnetic grappling beam stabbed into the metal piping, gripping it tightly. Sentry pulled back on the energy string and yanked the bottom oil pipes out from under the rest, effectively starting a contained landslide of metal cylinders.

He disconnected the beam and ran for the falling stack. He leapt into the air, jumped clear over the sliding pipes, and landed between the two Shuman brothers. He extended one hand toward each of them, his repuslors and charged and ready, but neither of them moved.

In fact, neither of them even flinched.

“Shit,” he swore. “Rhodes! Rhodes, get down here!”

War Machine was beside him in seconds with Wypser right behind him. They hovered over Sentry and the Shuman brothers, staring down at the still bodies. And that’s all they were now. Bodies. Vacant of life. Empty vessels.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Bullseye said. He stepped out from behind a bulkhead and leaned against it casually, checking his fingernails for invisible dirt. “It’s why I was brought it, right?”

War Machine saw the destroyed throats of both Frederick and Hans Shuman. They weren’t simply slit; they were torn open by something rigid and blunt being shoved through them. A small steel bolt, stained with crimson, sat close to each of the brothers. Given Bullseye’s penchant for universal weaponry, War Machine assumed that the assassin must have grabbed a couple of bolts while lurking on the platform and through them with pinpoint accuracy straight through the Shuman brothers’ necks.

“Monster,” Sentry said. He aimed his repuslors at the convict. “My armor says Vanisher teleported as soon as we showed up and now these two are dead. You fucked this whole operation up! Get on your knees, you sick son of a bitch.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Bullseye said with a smile. “I may be the murder weapon here, but you assholes pulled the trigger.”

“What?” Sentry demanded. “What did you say, you little bastard?”

Bullseye lowered down to his knees and pointed a finger at Wysper. “I’m not one to pass the credit for a couple of clean kills, but at the risk of sounding like a child, she told me to. Take it up with her.”

War Machine aimed his MDR cannon at Wypser. “Move and I’ll fry you,” he said. “You’re under arrest. Take off your helmet.”

“The Commission—” Wysper started to say in objection.

“Ain’t fucking here,” Rhodes said. “Take. Off. Your. Helmet. Now. I won’t ask nice again.”

“Ooo,” Bullseye whispered. “Mom and Dad are fighting again.”

“You don’t understand what’s going on here,” Wypser said.

“I understand everything I need to.”

Wypser paused. She traded a look with Bullseye from behind her helmet, then slowly removed it. Once the yellow and white helmet was off her head she shook out her long hair and stared at War Machine.

Behind his own helmet, James Rhodes blinked as he looked straight into the face of Valerie Cooper.