Marvel: Tomorrow Knights (Chapter 11)
Title: Marvel: Tomorrow Knights
Chapter 11: Venomous Vindication
Fandom: Marvel Universe
Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine
Author: V5_Vendetta
Major Characters: Cuayin (OC), Callisto (not-quite-OC), Audrey Hopkins/Arachne (OC), Karin Kusanagi/Fearless (OC)
Cameos/First Appearances: New Warriors (OC), Niles Gyrich (OC), Director Michael Lake (OC), Guardian Eight (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cuayin and Callisto's vengeance is beginning to draw a following, much to the concern of S.H.I.E.L.D. Meanwhile back in New York City, Audrey is behaving rather strangely. . . .
Warnings: Some sexuality and a good deal of violence. Nothing you wouldn't see in a PG-13 movie or TV-14 show, but still.
Cuayin and Callisto emerged in a village alight with flames. Both females could smell the smoke. “What’s happening here?” Callisto asked.
“Ethnic cleansing at its ugliest,” Cuayin replied as she began walking through the village, Callisto following her. All around them rang screams of terror and outrage. One particularly shrill scream caught Cuayin’s attention and she sped into the hut from which the scream originated, finding several men on top of a struggling woman. With an outraged scream, Cuayin extended her will, psychokinetically ripping the men off the woman.
The men quickly rose to their feet, outraged by the outsider who dared interfere with them. Cuayin telekinetically drew the flames outside the hut to her hands, shaping those flames into knives extending from each finger. When the men tried to come at her, she threw the fire knives at the men, impaling them all in their hearts, their heads, and their groins. There was little for them to do after that except . . . die.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, frantically pushing the skirt of her dress back down.
“You may call me Cuayin.” She turned away and departed the hut. “I still have much to do. Tell whoever will listen about me.”
“What were they doing to her?” Callisto asked.
“They were going to rape her,” Cuayin replied tersely. “Now they’re dead. Let’s go.”
Cuayin and Callisto were a vengeful wind that had blown into the village, killing both sides in this tribal warfare. The women and the children were spared, but for the men there was no such mercy. With inhuman speed and power, the men who so brutalized each other and the more helpless of their enemies were brutalized in kind by these two females.
When it was all over, Cuayin and Callisto stood in the middle of their bloodbath, looking out at the women and children who had had the dubious honor of witnessing the slaughter of those that had intended them harm. “Know this,” Cuayin proclaimed, “there will no longer be a place in this world for those that harbor the lust for power and violence toward their fellow humans. Those who desire to achieve power with the blood of their fellows will have their blood spilt. Know this and know that salvation from the corrupt order of things that ‘requires’ the deaths of some for others to gain power can and will be yours.”
“Who are you that you can make such claims?” a young woman asked.
“I am who I am,” Cuayin replied. “I am Cuayin.”
As Cuayin and Callisto departed the village, they were greeted by three women. One wore her hair in braids, another had shaved her head almost completely, and a third simply wore her hair short and curly. All three women dressed and stood as though they were ready for battle.
Cuayin smiled at them. “Have you come to join us?”
“Yes,” the braided woman replied. “My name is Atieno.”
“I am Lesedi,” the bald woman replied.
“And I am Nthanda,” the curly-haired woman replied.
“Very well,” Cuayin replied. “You may join us.”
Back in the United States, specifically in New York City, a black-clad female figure dropped onto the rooftop of Midtown High School. Noticing a surveillance drone hovering near her, she whirled around and fired a web bullet at it. The “bullet” exploded into a sticky mess that obscured the drone’s vision.
Satisfied, the black-clad female climbed down the side wall of the school building with nothing but her hands and feet. Once close enough to human eye level, she flipped off the wall and landed in a crouch on her feet. As she straightened up, her costume “liquefied” and reshaped itself into a black halter and nighttime camouflage shorts along with white socks and running sneakers.
Now that she was seemingly ordinary high school student Audrey Hopkins, the girl sauntered into the school building through the front door and walked down to Karin’s locker, intending to wait for her there. As she walked, it did not escape her attention that she was being eyed, if not ogled, by much of the male student body. She just smirked; their stares didn’t matter to her at all, but it was nice to be “appreciated.”
As she waited by Karin’s locker, a broad-shouldered brunet boy swaggered toward her. Audrey just stared unflinchingly at him and being the sort of male that he was, he probably took it for interest. Yes, it was interest, but not the kind of interest he thought it was. No, this interest was more predatory, in a manner of speaking. It was the interest of a hunter wanting to see if her prey would entertain her for the time he lasted.
“Hey, Audrey,” the boy greeted. “Looking hot.”
“Should I be flattered?” Audrey asked icily. “In case you’re not aware, Smoke, I have a girlfriend.”
“Really?” Smoke asked evenly. “Well, it’s not like you have to give up men entirely. . . . It ain’t cheating if you’re bi, you know.”
Audrey chuckled sinisterly. “Even if I did want to cheat on Karin, I’d find a better man to cheat on her with than you.”
“Why so cold? I can treat you right. I can get to those hard-to-reach places that Kusanagi can’t.”
With lightning reflexes, Audrey grabbed Smoke’s outstretched hand and wrenched his arm behind his back as she slammed him face-first into the locker. “I told you,” she hissed in his ear. “I’m not interested in men who can’t keep it in their pants, who imagine themselves to be in a perennial competition with their idiot friends to see who can sleep with the most girls. So . . . f#$%& off, or . . .” She snapped his wrist, eliciting a cry of pain from him. “Just as a little warning.” She let him go and sauntered to her locker.
About midway through first period, the P.A. rang out with a call for Audrey to see the principal in his office. Audrey scowled and picked up her laptop, leaving the classroom and placing her laptop in her locker before moving on to the principal’s office. Once there, she took her seat in front of his desk.
“What’s this about?”
“Mr. Ness’s wrist is broken,” Principal Hansen replied.
“And that concerns me how?” Audrey’s tone was harshly flippant.
“You’re the one who broke it. I want to know why.”
“He was harassing me. I didn’t like it, so I demonstrated how much I didn’t like it. End of story.”
“No, not ‘end of story.’ First making out with Miss Kusanagi in the janitor’s closet and now this? Audrey . . . is there something wrong at home?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I consider it my business if one of my top students is acting erratically.”
Audrey scowled. “Nice to know you care. Now can I go back to class?”
“What do you think compelled Mr. Ness to ‘harass’ you?”
“What do you mean? He’s a perpetually horny bastard who’d sleep with a Skrull if that Skrull would shape-shift into every girl he’s ever @#$%& to.”
“Watch your language. I’m just trying to work things out. Maybe he got the wrong impression from you.”
Audrey’s eyes flared with anger and then narrowed, as a smirk came to her face. “Tell me, Principal,” she purred. “How do you feel about the way I’m dressed?”
“I’d say it meets the standards of decency expected from a student of this school,” Principal Hansen replied neutrally.
“Really? Then . . . someone couldn’t get the wrong idea about me? Someone couldn’t mistake me for a hot little slut looking for action?”
“What’s going on here?”
“You implied that the way I’m dressed could make someone think I’m the kind of girl who’d be ‘receptive’ to sexual overtures,” Audrey answered, the purr turning predatory in tone. “Is that really the sort of girl you take me for, or are you simply trying to find a way to get Smoke off the hook?”
“It’s not about getting Smoke off the hook,” Principal Hansen replied. “But he’s about to compete in an important tournament and getting his wrist broken doesn’t help matters much.”
“I see.” Audrey’s tone turned cold, before heating up into a seething whisper. “So, are you going to punish me, or can I leave?”
“After school, report to Mr. McBride for detention,” Principal Hansen replied. “You’ll do this until the end of the week.”
“Fine.” Audrey’s tone was a hiss. “See you later.” She rose to her feet and stormed out of the principal’s office.
Gym class came and Audrey was perfectly ready to burn off some frustrations. The game they were playing was “Chaser,” which was a form of tag with elements of dodgeball. The way the game was played, it required special pneumatic gloves to catch a hard-light ball called the “Chaser” before the ball could strike the player. Once the player was hit by the Chaser, he or she would be forced out of the game for the duration of the round. The last player standing would be the winner of the game.
The coach blew the whistle, and the game began. The Chaser flew at Audrey, but her dilated perception of time via spider-sense allowed her to catch it easily. She threw the Chaser at another player, striking her in the stomach with enough force to bruise. The Chaser floated, waiting for someone else to pick it up and throw it.
The Chaser went from player to player, everyone trying to strike everyone else out. About the only one who seemed able to dodge the Chaser on a consistent basis was Audrey, whose reflexes seemed almost superhuman to the onlookers. What they didn’t know was that Audrey was still holding back a great deal. Not as much as she was normally wont to do, but still holding back enough to not be mistaken for anything more than a skilled human.
The first round ended with Audrey and Siena facing off against each other, the Chaser firmly in Siena’s hands. “Come on,” Audrey challenged. “I dare you.”
Siena smirked and threw the Chaser at Audrey, who caught the Chaser like liquid lightning and threw it back at Siena, striking her in the shoulder. Siena winced and gripped her shoulder. “You didn’t have to throw it so hard.”
“That’s just the way I play,” Audrey answered. “Deal.”
This particular game of Chaser lasted three full rounds and one partial round in that gym class, with Audrey being the winner every time. In the process of winning, though, Audrey had incensed a number of her fellow players by throwing the Chaser “too hard” at them. She didn’t much care; that was just the way the game was played, and they really had to stop being such babies about it.
Lunchtime came around and Karin Kusanagi was at a table with Jenna and Troy. They were still uncomfortable around each other, but nobody was ready to throw punches or scream. It was just an uneasy silence, one broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Those footsteps were quick and decisive and the footfalls suggested a confident bearing.
Sudden blackness engulfed Karin’s vision, but she could feel warm hands over her eyes. Then . . . she felt something cool ooze from those hands, further darkening her vision. “Guess who?” a voice purred in her ear.
“Audrey,” Karin greeted.
The oozing, cool feeling faded away and the hands pulled back, just before Karin found Audrey sitting in her lap. “Audrey . . .” Karin uttered. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Audrey replied coyly. “I just think your lap’s a more comfortable place to sit than a hard chair.”
Karin eyed Audrey up and down. The younger girl was dressed in a black halter and nighttime camouflage shorts, both of which did a good job showing her figure. However, Karin was looking with more than just her eyes; Audrey’s heartbeat was unusually steady and there was something different, for lack of a better term, about her scent. The bare skin of Audrey’s arms around Karin’s neck felt abnormally warm, almost feverish. If she looked into Audrey’s eyes, she would find that they were curiously glittery.
Troy and Jenna both gaped at Audrey and Karin. “Uh, what’s going on?” Troy asked.
“Yeah, are you on something?” Jenna asked.
“Yes,” Audrey replied. “I’m on life.”
“I see,” Jenna said.
“Audrey, I need to talk to you about something,” Karin whispered.
“Do we need to talk about it alone?” Audrey asked sultrily.
Karin fought down the heat that was rising inside her at Audrey’s tone. “Yes. Now could you please get off my lap?”
Audrey pouted, but obediently slid off Karin’s lap, allowing Karin to stand up. “Bathroom break,” Karin said.
Troy watched Audrey and Karin walk away with a puzzled expression. “Why do girls go to the bathroom together?”
“Trade secret,” Jenna replied.
As soon as Audrey and Karin were alone in the halls, Karin turned to Audrey. “Night Thrasher contacted me,” she whispered. “The New Warriors had a run-in with the Venom symbiote.”
“How’s that possible?” Audrey asked.
“The other Venom clones were tracking the clone you gave to Night Thrasher, and the original symbiote came after them. Apparently, it ate them all.”
Audrey gasped.
“That’s not the end of it. There were news reports all over the Net about something draining the residents of an entire floor of an apartment building of their vital fluids. Nobody survived.”
Audrey’s gasp sharpened.
“I think it was the symbiote. Whatever happened to it, it must have needed to regenerate.”
“What do we do?” Audrey asked.
“We keep on the lookout for any other incidents like that,” Karin replied. “If the symbiote’s bonded with anyone, we look for anyone who’s buying a lot of chocolate.”
“Why chocolate?”
“It contains some of the same chemicals that symbiotes feed off. Therefore, a host can satisfy the symbiote’s cravings without having to go out and kill anyone.”
“Ok, but a lot of chocolate can equal a chocolate fanatic, not a symbiote host per se.”
“Good point. We’ll need biometric scanners.”
“For?”
“When I fought the Thunderbolts Venom, I noticed that her heartbeat was unusually steady and that she was giving off abnormal body heat, even through the symbiote suit. We can look for that.”
“Ok.”
“I think we better go back to the others.”
“Not just yet . . .”
Karin noticed that Audrey was looking at her with bedroom eyes, just before she found herself pinned to the wall. “Audrey . . .”
“Just a little fooling around,” Audrey purred, hooking a leg around Karin’s hip. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Audrey, we have to go back,” Karin hissed.
“And we will, but I wanna make out first.”
“Audrey, we’ll make out plenty later tonight, but right now we’re going back to Troy and Jenna.”
Audrey pouted and pulled away from Karin.
“Chin up,” Karin whispered. “You’ll get to ravish me all you like tonight.” She turned around and began walking back to the cafeteria. To her surprise, she felt something cool and slithery slap her derriere. Karin turned around, only to find Audrey following behind her several paces back.
Meanwhile, the New Warriors had finished moving their equipment and personal things into a mobile base, which resembled a hybrid of a three-car train, an RV, and a battle tank. They had decided, for safety’s sake, that maintaining mobility would be best. The clone symbiote removed from the Thunderbolts Venom was still in their custody, which was about the only victory they had salvaged aside from driving away the original. No one had a clue how the original had survived or where it’d been all those years, but everyone knew that they didn’t like the idea of a violent, quasi-parasitic alien running loose in the city.
“Anything yet?” Night Thrasher asked from the driver’s seat of their mobile base.
“No,” Archaeida replied. “But we know it ate a whole floor out of an apartment complex.”
Incendiary shuddered. “What kind of creature does something like that?”
“A symbiote,” Night Thrasher answered grimly. “Speaking of symbiotes, how’s the one we took off the Thunderbolts Venom?”
“Still being contained,” Themis replied.
“Good,” Night Thrasher stated.
“We’re cloaked, right?” the Black Cat asked.
“Right now, all anybody looking at us is going to see is a black stretch limo,” Night Thrasher replied. “As long as we don’t go too fast or too slow, the police won’t stop us.”
“Well, it’s hard to go fast in a heap like this,” Slipstream grumbled.
In the NYC administrative offices of the CSA, Niles Jason Gyrich was far from a happy camper. “Who let the Venom symbiote loose?”
“Sir, there was a security blackout around the containment chamber of the symbiote and when it came back, the symbiote was gone,” a subordinate replied.
“And what of the Venom Troopers?”
“We recovered them, but their symbiotes were stripped from them.”
Gyrich growled. “Damn it. The Venom symbiote must have eaten them.” He paused. “What of that incident in that apartment building? Has it been contained?”
“Yes. We’re running a full media blackout. However, we did mention that the symbiote’s actions might have been the work of a superhuman killer whose description remains unknown.”
“Good. I’m sending a contingent of Scarlet Spiders to track down that symbiote and bring it back. And I’m also going to find out who it was that let the Venom symbiote loose and when I find them . . . let’s just say the Geneva Convention’s going to have to invent some new prohibitions.”
The expression on Gyrich’s face chilled his subordinate, who had seen that look before. She had seen that look before an entire contingent of X-Men had been wiped out by Sentinel Troopers. She had seen that look before a band of runaway mutant teens had been “contained for study.” She had seen that look before a “nameless bar” catering to “superhuman insurgents” had been raided and its patrons spun. Whenever she saw that look on his face, nothing good happened to the object of his wrath.
“You’re dismissed,” he said.
The subordinate nodded quietly and walked out of the office, leaving Gyrich to sit back and press a button on his intercom. “Call the Scarlet Spiders. Tell them they have a job to do.”
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, Director Lake looked at the eight people assembled before him. They were all highly trained and equipped for combat, either by their accoutrements or by their own innate abilities. They were the international team assembled by the Group of Eight to deal with international matters concerning the superhuman population.
Standing in the lead was a woman dressed in a uniform similar to Captain America’s, only the pants were black and the boots and belt were dark gray. Beside her was a woman in skintight dark red and silver, with the silver stripe down the middle forming a cutout of a Canadian leaf. Next to her was a man in crimson powered armor, with another man standing with him in powered armor modeled after the British flag. Beside him was a blond man in fiery red with black flame designs crawling up his arms and legs. There was a man in skintight black with thicker material around his joints. There was a pale woman in a black-winged high-tech flight harness and a younger woman garbed in a black corset and pleated miniskirt.
“American Dream.” The Captain America-styled woman looked up.
“Vindicator.” The Canadian flag-themed woman turned.
“Crimson Dynamo.” The man in crimson armor looked up.
“Captain Britain.” The British flag-themed armored man turned.
“Firedrake.” The flame-decaled man looked up.
“Trickster.” The man in skintight black turned at the sound of his name.
“Striga.” The flight-harnessed woman looked up.
“Witchfire.” The corseted young woman turned to acknowledge Lake.
“I was hoping the only reason you’d ever need to come together like this would be for some politician’s publicity,” Lake grumbled. “But this is far more important and far more dangerous.”
“Get to the point,” American Dream snapped.
“I will,” Lake answered. “Two days ago, Subject Omega-Theta escaped. Butchered several of my men in the process and took off with another subject, codenamed Sierra-Gamma. They’ve been hopping around the continent of Africa for the past two days on some kind of weird vigilante kick.”
“What are they capable of?” Crimson Dynamo asked.
“Subject Omega-Theta is an alchemist who can also manipulate nearly any kind of extant energy,” Lake replied. “Subject Sierra-Gamma is a Spider-Man-type mutant; same basic powers as the web-slinger, only modified and enhanced in some instances.”
“Well, f#$% me sideways,” Vindicator remarked. “I am not looking forward to going up against that. Wall-crawler ought to be easy pickings, but the other one . . . that’s f#$%& up.”
“Where are they now?” Captain Britain asked.
“They’ve moved to South America . . . and according to the satellite pictures . . . they’ve picked up company,” Lake answered.
“Company?” Striga echoed.
“Other superhumans,” Lake clarified. “And here’s the kicker: It seems to be a women-only powwow.”
“Women only? Have we gone back to the neo-feminist movement?” Firedrake asked in baffled tones.
“It’s not like we’re all that bitter about your men-only clubs,” American Dream remarked sardonically.
“Yes, you heard me right,” Lake deadpanned. “Subject Omega-Theta, potentially the most dangerous superhuman of the modern age, is female. Deal with it.”
“You’re remarkably calm,” Witchfire remarked.
“You know what they say, where there’s life, there’s hope,” Lake replied, “meaning that as long as the eight of you are alive, there’s a shot at containing this mess before it goes global.” He looked at Witchfire meaningfully. “Out of the lot of you, you’ve got the best shot of fighting Subject Omega-Theta and coming out of it alive, so you’re going to have to do the bulk of the fighting when it comes to her.”
“And the rest of us?” Trickster asked.
“You’ll keep her little army occupied,” Lake responded tersely.
“Where is she now?” American Dream inquired.
“In Peru,” Lake answered.