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MARVEL FANFARE presents
Part One - Reformation
(MARVEL FANFARE
#138)
Tom Lynch
August Year Five
* * *
Drew Daniels popped the cap off his beer bottle and picked up Victoria’s chilled wineglass, and stepped out onto the house’s porch to join her. She took the glass, thanked him, and sipped at the white Cabernet reflectively.
Drew Daniels and Victoria Star, rodeo stars and superheroes, sat on the veranda and watched the sun set, sipping at their drinks.
Gradually, they became aware of a car making it’s way toward their farmstead; the thin dust cloud following it couldn’t just be heat haze.
“What’d a visitor want with us, hon?” Drew asked.
“At this time of day? I don’t know,” Victoria replied. “Guess we’re gonna find out, though.”
They continued to drink, watching it get closer. There wasn’t much else to do, and Drew and Victoria had reached that point in a relationship where conversation becomes virtually optional much of the time.
The car, as it approached, turned out to be a pretty sleek, modern thing; a BMW convertible that looked like being this year’s model. The man who emerged looked mid-thirties; a black businessman in a suit, wearing Ray-Bans. He picked a briefcase out of the back of the car and walked toward the pair.
“Drew Daniels?” he called. “Victoria Star?”
“That’s us,” Drew replied, standing up and stepping off the veranda to meet him. His lover followed. Both were smiling, ready to make a new friend. “What can we do for you?”
“Guy MacLeod,” the man said, holding his hand out. He gripped Drew’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve, ah - I’ve a business proposal for the two of you, if you’re agreeable to hearing it?”
Drew looked over his shoulder at Victoria, eyebrows raised. She nodded slightly. “Guess we can do that,” he said, turning back to MacLeod. “Not promising anything, mind. You like to step inside?”
“Thanks,” MacLeod said, smiling.
“Ma’am,” nodding to Victoria. “I think I can
assure you this will hold your interest…”
“The Rangers?” Drew stared across the table in disbelief, but the man returned his gaze earnestly. “Reform the Rangers? But… Well, I haven’t seen Red Wolf in a while, and the word is the Phantom Rider’s otherwise engaged, and Firebird’s with the Champions, and… say, how did you find our IDs, anyway?”
“You’d be surprised how much information the CSA can be persuaded to give out when you go to them and ask to start up a superteam. I think they reckon it makes their jobs much easier.” MacLeod smiled. “All of you in the same place. Of course, I’m sure they went through my background thoroughly, but they would have found exactly what I just told you; I’ve recently come into some money, more than I’ll ever be able to use, and I’d like to spend some of it in sponsoring a team of heroes - keeping this planet that little bit safer.”
Drew and Victoria exchanged glances cautiously. “What do you think?”
“I think… I think I’m about ready to give the Rangers another go, hon.”
Victoria nodded. “It’s settled, then.” Their hands reached out toward each other across the kitchen table. “We’re in, Mr MacLeod. Have you got anyone else to join yet?”
Guy MacLeod smiled furtively. “It’s funny you
should say that…”
That very same evening, sitting with her daughter, Rachel, who was almost twelve now, and alone again after her time with Force Works, Julia Carpenter received a visitor. It wasn’t anyone she knew, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t from the Commission, and so she opened the door and let him in. Standing in her sitting room, she took stock of the situation. Her visitor was tall, black, thirtysomething, well off to judge by the suit, and projected a general appearance of being full of vitality and highly intelligent.
“What can I do for you?” she asked. “More to the point, who are you?”
“Well,” he said, reaching into a jacket pocket and removing a card, “says here I’m Guy MacLeod. I look like him, too. But I’m not him, I just work for him. My real name-“ Here reality seemed to ripple around him for a moment. Julia had an instant to glimpse a man with skin as green as the Hulk’s before making eye contact - and going completely mentally blank in that instant. As far as her consciousness was aware, she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing - experienced nothing.
Mesmero was back; not dead at all.
Glasgow, Scotland
“…have Spider-Woman on the roster already, as well as founder Rangers Texas Twister and Shooting Star,” Guy MacLeod said. “I appreciate it would involve leaving your country, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to join with us.”
He was sitting in the consultancy firm of Bodyweight & Cascade, the two heroes having set themselves up as superhuman private detectives for Glasgow following their battle with the Mandrill and Viper.*
The two heroes, clad in their protective leather costumes, exchanged glances briefly. “Well… if Spider-Woman’s on the team, I guess it’s kosher,” Bodyweight said. “Remember Force Works?”
“Better money than this gig, too;” Cascade noted.
“Yeah. Shall we, then?”
“By all means.”
Bodyweight looked Guy MacLeod straight in the eye and spoke. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister.”
Guy MacLeod smiled. “So, five at least. Excellent. I have three more prospects yet to visit - and I suspect they also shall say yes. You were all chosen on the basis that you were likely to accept.”
“OK… who’s next?”
“Oh, I suspect they won’t be known to you,” MacLeod replied. “They recently made their debut in New York, and didn’t win any major acclaim doing so, though they made a difference on the street. Unlike yourselves, they weren’t able to launch their career with a high-profile coup like the Mandrill. A gentleman called Desert Fire is next on my list, as it happens.”
Dr Owen Stevens racked his brain, but couldn’t place
the name.
The Vault, USA
In a flame-retardant cell, Jack Gersen sat and stewed. He disliked his situation, and (he felt) with good reason; he wasn’t a criminal, and here he was locked up with them. He’d been active less than a month, too; it wasn’t like he’d made anything like an impact on the New York gang scene. If it hadn’t been for that bloody shadow freak…*
He stopped that train of thought quickly as useless. He was cooling his heels here until he got out, whenever that might be - probably never - and there was an end to it. The problem was…
Well, the problem was, he’d taken a swing at someone or other the other day - Lightmaster, he thought, though without the mask he just had a voice heard on news reports to guide him - and Armadillo* had pinned him, dragged him back to his cell. He was not only being treated like a criminal, he was being treated like one by one. He wasn’t happy about it.
The psychiatrist had talked at him for an hour yesterday, too. Well, that wasn’t quite fair. She’d been genuinely trying to help, and by the end of the session they’d had a pretty good chat. The trouble was, she’d wanted to find stuff out about him - like who he really was. He still hadn’t told, and they still hadn’t found out.
So the folks at the pool didn’t know yet. Which was good and bad… Because by now he’d probably lost his job for absenteeism. Which meant if he ever did get out of here, he was out of work. Not fun.
Still, he thought, as a low flame idly played across his fingers, he could probably go back to grilling burgers like he used to…
The sound of footsteps stirred him from reverie and he killed the flame, waiting for whoever it was to go past before he returned to his thoughts. And that was the kicker, he thought; other people could walk up to his door and watch him, if they wanted. No privacy. He’d determined to be doing as little as possible whenever people were near, as a particularly infantile show of defiance.
Keys rattled, directly outside. Jack rolled his eyes and looked across. What the hell were they doing, disturbing his time alone like this? Who were they, anyway?
The door swung open and a man entered, the Guardsman who’d opened the door waiting cautiously outside. Jack sized the newcomer up; older than himself by a good ten years, curly black hair in a businesslike cut, dressed smart. A suit. Probably from the CSA again - bastards wanted to know everything about you if you were even slightly out of the ordinary.
His features slid into a defiant expression with virtually no prompting on his part. “Yeah?”
“I gather you call yourself Desert Fire,” the man said, returning Gersen’s stare levelly. “Ah - thank you, I would prefer to conduct this conversation in private,” he continued, addressing the Guardsman behind him. The armoured man shrugged and let the door swing to.
The suit reached into his pocket and produced a business card, which he offered to Gersen. “My name is Guy MacLeod,” he said.
“Yeah?” Jack reiterated.
“I gather you don’t consider yourself a criminal,” MacLeod said, taking a seat on the chair opposite Gersen’s bed. “Rather, you’d call yourself a hero. How would you like a chance to practise your creed?”
“Come again?”
MacLeod sighed inwardly, but smiled for the benefit of the man in front of him. “I am providing the funds for the reformation of the superteam known as the Rangers,” he said carefully. “Not all of the original lineup being available, I have decided to help with recruitment, and I’ve chosen you as a possible recruit. You’d be working alongside Spider-Woman, for example-“
“Spider-Woman?” Gersen locked eyes with MacLeod. “You’re serious? I’d get to team up with an Avenger?”
“Indeed, yes.”
“You can prove this?”
“Well, I didn’t set up a video of her agreeing, if that’s what you mean,” MacLeod said. Jack considered this. It seemed fair enough, and it presumably got him out of here.
“You’ll get me loose?”
“You’ll walk this afternoon, if you agree.”
“I’m in.”
“You don’t look like that.” The voice was scornful, sure of it’s own superiority. The Miracle Man sat back and folded his arms.
“Indeed I don’t.” The image of Guy MacLeod flickered into nonexistence to reveal Mesmero sitting back, folding his arms in silent mockery of the man facing him. “But the man I work for does, and he doesn’t want my face seen in connection with this project any more than it needs to be.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Miracle Man regarded him suspiciously. “Word was you’re dead.”
“Ah… the High Evolutionary thing*. Yes… Well, it’s not the first time people have thought they killed me.”
<5>* See Marvel Premiere, 90-93
“No, but the other time was you messing with your killer’s mind. There were plenty of witnesses this time.”
“Well, yes… But then again, as you yourself pointed out, I don’t always look like I truly am. And a corpse can often go unmolested until the coast is clear. So…” Mesmero spread his arms dramatically, allowing the villain to fill in the blanks.
“You faked it.”
“Yes.”
“So…” He couldn’t think of much else to say. “So, what’s this proposal your boss wants to put to me? And I warn you, the answer’s likely to be no.”
“He’s reforming the Rangers.” Mesmero allowed a second’s pause for this to sink in, but the Man cut into it.
“The Rangers? They’re a superhero team. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we generally get cast as the bad guys, yeah? What’s your boss think he’s doing?”
Mesmero said nothing, and let him work it out.
“…Ah.” He smiled. “Nice.” And all the better for me, he thought.
Miracle Man, also known as, you see, wanted out. Out of crime, just gone from the repetitive jail risk. And since the only thing he had was his power - his illusory power - he figured heroism for the obvious alternative career. The snag was going to be becoming accepted. A team would make that easier.
“So who’s on?” he asked.
“Texas Twister and Shooting Star from the old team, Spider-Woman -“
Steven Dacord, Miracle Man, gasped.
“Spider-Woman? You… you got Spider-Woman to agree to this?”
“Yes,” Mesmero said calmly. “I did.”
The emphasis sank in. “…Ah.”
“One other thing,” Mesmero continued. “My employer wants you to continue to use the Miracle Man identity. A reformed villain on the team will probably help him defend any incongruities on the team; he’s giving people chances. And he’s not after committing crimes during your time with the team; just a little too much force, a little gratuitous violence and property destruction.” The green skinned mutant shrugged. “He didn’t say why, just muttered about every little bit counting.”
Silence fell over the table for upwards of half a minute, Mesmero simply awaiting an answer and Stephen mulling all this information over. “Anyone else?” he asked in a weak voice.
“No one you’ll have heard of,” Mesmero
replied. “A couple of new folks from Scotland, a guy called
Desert Fire currently residing in the Vault, and one gentleman
we’d like you to recruit for us-“
Lazarus didn’t get it. “You want me to be a hero.”
“That’s about the size of it, yeah,” Miracle Man replied. He was currently levitating four feet off the ground in the lotus position.
“You know I have to keep taking drugs and stuff to keep my powers running properly, right?”
“Yeah,” Miracle Man replied. “Don’t worry about that. It’s not exactly the Avengers you’re heading for here. We’re willing to overlook that.”
“Right…” Lazarus considered the idea. It had it’s upsides. He could probably escape prosecution for his drug dependency, for example; and he’d be getting paid, by the sound of things… And he could deal with superhumans. He’d dealt with that Human Torch wannabe, hadn’t he?*
Yeah… and he’d slipped right out of the cell after that happened, too. The Darkforce was on his side; it wouldn’t be a problem.
“OK, count me in.”
“Sure.” Miracle Man paused. “Er… the boss never told me what you called yourself…”
“I don’t.” Lazarus looked panicked for a
moment, then smiled. “Call me Eclipse, for now. I don’t
think there’s anyone calling themself that at the
moment…”
Austin, Texas
“Drive three miles out of Austin on the right road, these days, and you’ll find the latest openly-displayed superteam compound; Rangers Hold. It’s a glittering affair, and obviously expensive; but the team’s backer, a Mr MacLeod, has money. No one’s telling us where he got it, though. In any case, you join us here for the recently reformed team’s first press conference. Details are sketchy at the moment; among other things, the lineup will be revealed here when the team steps out onto that dais. So stick with us, folks, and we’ll see who’s going to cast their shadow out over Texas in it’s defence…”
The anchorwoman finished that update and turned it back to the studio, before looking back at the dais. Eight seats behind the table and the press mikes, she counted. None of them outsize, none of them strangely designed… Looked like eight normal humans, or superhumans, anyway. Well, that told her something, right enough. But not enough to even dream of speculating…
The door behind the platform slowly opened. A hasty, hissed conversation by radio got the studio turning live feed back to her, and she assumed her best professional smile for the lens.
“Welcome back, folks. You’re just in time; signs of activity down there tell me we’re not going to have to wait much longer… Yes, here we are, the first of the heroes is emerging…”
Miracle Man led the Rangers out onto the platform. His costume had changed slightly, now looking leaner, sleeker, and in some indefinable way more heroic. However, tags and symbols covered the costume that a scholar could trace to the Cheemuzwa Indians; the source of much of his power.
Next came a man wrapped in darkness; a black cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, while much of the rest of it was shrouded by the cowl of his black cloak, which wrapped itself around him so that only barely could the leather protective bodysuit beneath be glimpsed. This was Lazarus Jones; Eclipse.
Third was a tall, red-haired figure the world knew well. Back in black, Spider-Woman smiled perfunctorily at the cameras and took her seat.
Drew Daniels, the Texas Twister, followed her out; still garbed in what was essentially a cowboy outfit from the early days of westerns, but the crowd knew him too, if vaguely, and returned his cheerful smile. He took one of the inner seats of the table.
Shooting Star followed him out, her smile if anything wider than his. Her blonde hair flew back in the breeze behind her. The camera lapped it up; there was something very heroic about this whole procession, whatever had led the advance. In any case, Spider-Woman was on the team, and everyone knew Spider-Woman. She of all people wouldn’t be on a bad team.
Next out, black hair slicked back and bound in a ponytail, reeking of attitude, was Desert Fire. Gone was the black costume he had worn during his brief solo career; now instead his leather bodysuit shaded from a deep tan at the boots to a fiery orange blaze. Black leather fingerless gloves covered much of his hands, and a flame rippled across one hand as he cheerfully saluted the press. Here was a man without a care in the world, and they wondered why.
And, finally, the team’s second couple. Chloe came first, still in her navy blue leather suit and mask that set off her dusky skin so well, and Owen followed her out, his outfit larger, cut for a male and black, but otherwise similar.
Now all eight seats were taken, and the press wondered
where the benefactor was.
New York, New York
Sue May, slumped in front of the idiot box with a bottle of
Budweiser, sat bolt upright. “Jack?” she asked.
The hush built gradually. Drew watched the press begin to wonder when they’d speak, and stood.
“Good evening, all of you - and all you folks watching at home, too. I’m the Texas Twister, and I’d like to say how proud I am that the little team I joined all those years back finally made the big time - even if we’re down three of our members. And if Firebird, Red Wolf, or - though it don’t seem likely this fella will be - the Phantom Rider are watching, I’d like to ask you to drop by sometime, see what’s kicking. You know where we are.”
The smile kicked back in. This time it was genuine; it couldn’t have been more so. “But that’s not what you press gentlemen are here for. You want to know who we are now, not who we were. Well, here you go; the Rangers are Miracle Man, Eclipse, Spider-Woman, myself, Shooting Star, Desert Fire, Cascade and Bodyweight. Between us, we’ve got fire, darkness, wind, water, gravity, some, ah, form of psionics I don’t really understand,” polite laughter from the press, “illusion and a crack shot - and we’re on your side. Any questions?”
The first hand wasn’t long in jumping up. “Miracle Man, do you have any connection to-“
“That was me,” Stephen cut in, smoothly. “The Rangers are my first step on the reform trail. I’m planning on going all the way up it with them.”
That got scattered applause. Desert Fire snorted and turned his head away.
“I’m, ah, familiar with yourself, Texas, and Shooting Star, and everyone knows Spider-Woman - but I’ve got to admit, I don’t recognise much of your roster-“
“The Rangers have taken on a number of young heroes,” Julia said. “Heroes who’ve proved themselves, but who we feel could benefit from a team environment. It’s going to be a learning curve for us all.”
Twilight muttered “You’ve got that right,” just loudly enough for the microphone nearest him to pick it up.
Experienced anchorfolks and cameramen cracked smiles. Privately, they gave this team all of three weeks before it fell apart.
And where was Guy MacLeod?
“It’s fairly simple,” MacLeod said. “If it comes to combat, I want you to fight. But simply go for property damage, civilian death.”
Across the desk, Blizzard folded his arms and nodded. “Got you, chief. But there’s a big-ass risk in all this…”
“I know,” MacLeod said smoothly. He picked up the
briefcase beside his foot and slid it across the desk to
Blizzard. He opened it, inspected the crisp green contents, and
nodded. “OK,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a
deal. But only because this is better than what Hammer was paying
me.”
Well, those of you waiting for the return of Jack Gersen and Lazarus Jones to Fanfare - if there are any such - have got your wish now. And they’re on the same team, so watch for fireworks in future. You’ve even found out what Lazarus Jones would call himself - because he’s got it, now. And stay tuned, because in this arc you find out what Blizzard’s doing, what Guy MacLeod is up to, and some of the other questions. Let me know what you think and what you want to find out, and anyone who can come up with a lettercol title less corny than “On the Range”, give me your suggestions…
Mail me at kal.jerico@lineone.net
NEXT ISSUE
Blizzard. Temper
tantrums. Austin’s caught in the middle. Let’s see what
survives…