Issue 36: No Pain No Gain

Part 2 of 2

To the Victor, the Spoils

Mastermind calmly sat outside the door to Toad’s room, playing a quiet game of Solitaire. As she plays, she maintains the illusion Toad asked for, and she quietly counts down from one hundred, upon which she will dispel the illusion. Every now and then she’ll whistle, excitement building up inside of her.

Finding the newswoman was easy enough when you knew where to look. A little peek in the minds of an intern here, a secretary there, and her whole schedule was laid out. A quick bite to eat after that, and Martinique caught her just as she was leaving the station. Strolling along behind her, Martinique waited before making her move, snatching bits and pieces of the reporter’s thoughts.

When Mastermind found out her reasons for wanting to get together with Dr. McCoy, she just couldn’t help but quiver with rage. Using a foolish, kind-hearted mutant to further spread hatred and fear for ratings is inexcusable! Mastermind took great pleasure in punching that little bitch out right in front of an unaware crowd of people.

Mastermind didn’t want to make the call, but Toad seems to have a mad-on for the guy, a real desire to hurt him for some reason. So Mastermind gave the message, comforted in the fact that Trish Tilby would be receiving the worst by far.

Sure enough, Toad wanted Trish to suffer for her crimes. This was the woman that broke a story that led to the deaths of many innocent mutants. For that she had to pay dearly, with interest. And what better way to hurt someone than make her the happiest she’s ever been, then bring it crashing down around her.

So Mastermind cast the illusion in Tilby’s mind, and left the room to count and pass the time. As Mastermind counted, she felt Trish wake up, felt her relief at finding a dear, close friend beside her. Toad sure is convincing, nailing the banter and wording down pat. Mastermind was in the seventies at this point.

A simple story about going to meet her and driving away the attacker, a mutate rebel, and Trish was putty in his hands. Trish goes straight for the old damsel in distress act, wanting only to be held in the big, strong, warm arms of her hero. Mastermind smiles as it continues, and she goes right on counting. Mastermind is halfway there, in the fifties.

Sure enough, Toad took it to the next level. Mastermind could hear the faint grunts and moans, and could feel Trish’s pleasure. She’s almost there now.

5. “Hank!”

4. “Hank!”

3. “Hank!”

2. “Hank!”

1. “Haaaaaaank!”

0. Mastermind smiled, and dropped the illusion.

Mastermind sat there calmly, playing a game of Solitaire while Toad had his fun. The screams were music to her ears.

Gulping down the last of his meatball and cheese sub, Blob, glanced at the door to Toad’s room. The screams had gone on for the better part of an hour, along with the occasional cursing and dealing of heavy blows.

“You think he’s done yet?” Blob tried to whisper with Mastermind. In actuality he’s lucky any listening across the hall can’t make out the words.

Mastermind gives him a look of disgust, wiping several drops mayonnaise off her cards. “Why? You want to have a go at her? Toad set up the schedule himself. He’ll be done when it’s time.”

Blob just shrugs, sending rolls of fat jiggling, and takes a sip of his Pepsi One.

Finishing up her last game, Mastermind looks up at the clock. “It’s 12:45 now. To be on the safe side, you’d better knock on the door and remind him.” She gathers up the cards.

Blob shambles up from the seat, a feat requiring all of his astonishing strength, and takes a step towards the door. Before he can take more than a step, the door swings open, and Toad steps out. Blob’s chin drops, along with a considerable about of crumbs. The cards go flying out of Mastermind’s hands, scattering everywhere.

Toad’s uniform is torn in some places, and that ridiculous frilled collar hangs down from one side, nearly ripped off. His hands are caked with dried blood, and there is a rather deep scratch on his left cheek. Toad lifts his hand up to his cheek and rips something that looks like a fingernail out. All the while, that wide, smug grin is plastered on his face.

Tossing the fingernail aside, Toad slowly walks past Blob, patting the big guy on the shoulder. Blob can’t help but flinch. “She’s all yours big guy. Do whatever you want, but in ten minutes toss her out the open window. If you need me, I’ll be on the roof.”

Mastermind glances into the room and gasps, turning away quickly. She tells herself that Trish Tilby deserved every minute of it, that it’s nothing compared to what that bitch has done. Still, Mastermind can’t help but feel sick to her stomach.

Shaken, Blob walks into the room, closing the door behind him. Mastermind knows he doesn’t plan to do anything. All she hears is the sound of a meatball and cheese sub going up.

The beeper goes off in Pyro’s trench coat pocket. “It’s time gel.” He rasps to Unuscione.

Unuscione nods. “Toad had better follow through on that distraction. Let’s go.”

Unuscione turns and walks down the street towards the building, Pyro standing in front of her. If any of the other passersby were paying attention, they would have noticed the faint shimmer surround the two. They also may have noticed the smoke rising from Pyro’s trench coat, and the occasion flickering of flames around him.

As they reach the building, a magistrate moves to stop them. “I’m sorry, but only authorized personnel are all-Ohhhhhhhh!” The magistrate clutches his hand over his chest, trying to halt the stream of blood flowing through his fingers. Gasping to relieve his blood-filled lungs, he collapses.

Pyro and Unuscione step over his body. The doors fly off their hinges at their approach. Inside, a several lab-coated scientists scurry about, while several magistrates appear with weapons drawn. Pyro looks like he’s about to be sick, while Unuscione eyes the guns with amusement.

“Die mutant freaks!” A magistrate screams out. Bullets fly from the guns, streaming at the two mutants.

Pyro doesn’t flinch as the bullets collide against Unuscione’s force field, sinking in slightly before dropping to the ground. Rather, Pyro eyes the useless things with something akin to hope. He’s going to die, and he’s fine with that, but he’d much rather die in a fight than in a blaze.

“Do it Pyro,” Unuscione calls out over the chattering of guns. Glancing over his shoulder at Unuscione, Pyro nods. Turning back to the magistrates, he concentrates, focusing.

In a burst of fire, the guns explode in their hands, consuming the magistrates. The flames, once begun, move with lives of their own, spreading over the screaming magistrates in seconds.

Pyro and Unuscione stride past the fiery forms, with Unuscione occasionally hurling one aside. So far everything is going according to plan.

Dr. McCoy looked down at his customized wristwatch again. “It’s nearly one o’clock now. I wonder where she could be?”

Dr. Wies shrugged. “She’s a television personality. She’s also a woman. It’ll be just like I said, Dr. McCoy. We arrived ten minutes early; she meets us ten minutes late. That’s twenty minutes we could have been spending on research.”

“Believe me, Doctor, nobody would like to eradicate this miniature killer more than myself,” Dr. McCoy stated. “However, there are times when the cobwebs must be cleared away, and I feel an afternoon with the stunning Ms. Tilby would clear them sufficiently.”

Dr. Wies just sighed and mopped the sweat from his brow. He didn’t feel right being here, but Dr. McCoy was nervous about meeting Trish, so he needed some emotional support. Jesus H. Christ, Dr. Wies barely knew the man.

The beeper in Wies’ jacket started to go off. Taking it out to read the number, his face went pale. “Dr. McCoy, the lab is under attack! We need to get back right away!”

Dr. McCoy turned his eyes to face Dr. Wies. “Oh my stars and garters. Get a hold of the magistrates, Doctor, while I go do what I can.” Dr. McCoy turned and made ready to leap for the lab, all thoughts of Trish forgotten.

Suddenly, they heard it. High pitched, shrill, stricken with terror, and coming from very high up. Dr. McCoy’s head swiveled to look up at the plaza, his eyes widening. Somebody was plummeting from a tenth-story window! “Dear lord, a jumper!”

Without hesitation, the bouncy blue Avenger braced his might legs and leaped. Dr. McCoy gracefully caught the individual somewhere between the 5th and 6th floors, landing easily with his bundle in tow.

Dr. McCoy set the person down, concerned. It appeared to be a woman; it was hard to tell beneath the bloody sheets. There was also the faint smell of cheese. What had happened to her? “Don’t worry, ma’am, you’re safe now. There is a reason I was once a Defender.”

“Hank?” The bundle shifted, a bloody hand with gnarled, broken fingers reaching out to grasp the blue fur.

Dr. McCoy freezes in shock and panic. No. It couldn’t possibly be- “Trish? My god, Trish?” Valiantly trying to compose himself, Dr. McCoy holds Trish closer. “Don’t worry, Trish, I’m here-“

“Nooooooo!” That agonizing wail tears through Dr. McCoy’s eardrums and his very heart. Battering at him, the battered woman tries to free herself. “Help me! Heeeelllllppppp meeeeeeeeeee!”

Struggling to hold the fearful and fighting woman, Dr. McCoy can only imagine what could be wrong with her. “Trish, relax, it’s me, Hank-“ This prompts another agonized scream from the woman. Confused, Dr. McCoy feels a hand on his back, and turns to view a stricken Dr. Wies.

“Please, Dr. McCoy, let me deal with her,” Dr. Wies suggests. “It’s best not to upset her further. Remember where you are.”

Fighting back tears, Dr. McCoy complies, gently setting Trish down and stepping away. Dr. Wies immediately moves forward, calling for an ambulance. As Wies suspected, Trish began to calm down.

Watching from a distance, Dr. McCoy begins to think things through, to figure out what could have happened. The voice on his message obviously wasn’t a secretary. Somebody wanted him to be here, on time, to find Trish like this. The fear in her eyes, especially at the sight of him, could only mean one thing: he was her attacker! Well, not him, of course, but another version of him. That had to be it; this was the work of the Black Beast!

Glaring upwards, Dr. McCoy scours the building for any sign of the bastard. I know you’re there, watching, laughing. Where the hell are you? Could that be you on the roof? No, too skinny. Still, that looks a heck of a lot like…Oh my stars and garters.

Toad stood tall on the roof of the Plaza Hotel. Eyeing Dr. McCoy, he crouched down, leaning over the edge. His tongue flickered out of his mouth, and he winked before smiling. It wasn’t the usual smile of the insane. Toad was smiling in triumph.

Dr. McCoy growled low in his throat. Before he knew what he was doing he was high in the air, hands outstretched. The moment Dr. McCoy leaped up, Toad leaped down. At blinding speed the two blurred towards one another. One had the expression of a raging animal; the other an expression of a child that just did something naughty.

They met near the 5th floor, their hands locking together. Dr. McCoy roared, lunging his head forward, teeth gleaming. Toad giggled, jerking his head back from the jaws, bringing his knees up to his chest. As Toad rolled back, his legs straightened and shot up, catching Dr. McCoy on the chin.

As quickly as they met, the two backflipped away from each other, though Dr. McCoy couldn’t help it. The taste of blood in his mouth, Dr. McCoy struggled to regain his equilibrium. He almost succeeded, landing flat on his back, his head striking the pavement painfully.

Toad chuckled softly at his playmate’s plight, back-flipping onto the side of the building. Kicking downward, Toad lands in a crouch, smirking at the stunned doctor. “Aw, shucks, I expected that kick to take your head off.”

As Dr. McCoy struggled to his feet, Toad flicked his tongue out, licking up a spot of blood on the ground. Smacking his lips, his smile grew wider. “I suppose it’s true what they say. Women do weaken legs.”

Toad’s words reached Dr. McCoy’s ears, and Dr. McCoy was gone. All thought, all logic, all reason was gone. Deep within Dr. McCoy, the most primal, most animal feelings that he’s held back for so long spill out, and a roar of pure savagery erupts from his lips.

Hands outstretched, teeth bared, the Beast leaped for the Toad.

With the pop of mass suddenly appearing in thin air, the Vanisher, well, popped into view. Continuing to teleport so that it would appear that he was levitating*, Vanisher carefully studied the warehouse space below him. There is a reason Telford Porter was a successful thief and spy for years.

(*That’s how I’m explaining all those times he seemed to levitate!)

To Telford’s eye, everything seemed normal. The armored van was near the closed entrance, the crates neatly stacked behind it. Other than that, the warehouse seemed emp-no, wait, there was something else. Is that a body next to the van?

In the blink of an eye, Vanisher knelt next to the body, checking for a pulse. “Dead,” he muttered. “Heart attack. Couldn’t take the exertion of labor, could you chubbs?” Smiling, Vanisher looked up from the body and peered about. “I know you’re there. Even if you wanted to ignore Toad, you wouldn’t skip the fun. Come out come out wherever you are.”

“Under your nose, twinkletoes!” A cackling voice exclaimed, following a gloved hand reaching out of the body, grasping Vanisher’s wrist.

“Eeeeeekkkk!!!!!” With a child’s wail, Vanisher jerked away, breaking the hold on his wrist and landing smack on his ass. Before his wide-eyed, frightened gaze, the laughing face of Mountjoy rises out of the dead man’s chest.

“Here’s your lesson for the day,” Mountjoy chuckles. “Just because a body’s a corpse doesn’t mean I can’t ride it. Jeez, I thought you were careful.” Gracefully rising out of the driver, Mountjoy stood over Vanisher, cloak billowing behind him.

Glaring up at Mountjoy, Vanisher ‘popped’ onto one of the crates. “Very funny,” He growled. “You got me. Now get next to the crates so I can include you. Unless you want to stick around for the cops, who are following the trace on the van as we speak.”

Still chuckling softly, Mountjoy shambles next to the crates, propping his elbow up on one. “Tsk, tsk, Telford, I thought you had a higher opinion of me. Waiting around to kill somebody is just so...human. Much better to hunt for your fun.”

Nodding dismissively, Vanisher cleared his mind and concentrated. For Vanisher, distance isn’t an issue with ‘porting, but mass is. The more, the unmerrier.

Vanisher let out a sigh of relief when the sparse jungles replaced the near empty warehouse. “Oh good, everything’s in one piece.”

Mountjoy looks up with narrowed eyes. “What the bamf is that supposed to mean?”

Vanisher just shrugs nervously. “Nothing, its just that when I’m teleporting a large load, sometimes a chunk of it is left behin-Ack!” Vanisher is yanked down to look Mountjoy in the eye, a firm grip in his collar.

Mountjoy glares coldly into Vanisher’s eyes, dead serious. “In other words, I might have arrived here missing an arm, or a leg, or a torso?” Visibly shaking, Vanisher nods.

Surprisingly, Mountjoy’s snarl shifts into a smile. Letting Vanisher go, he pats the man on his bald head. “My dear Telford, why didn’t you tell me? I would have loved the rush of a deadly risk.”

Grasping Vanisher by the head, Mountjoy yanks him off the crate and onto the ground. “That was for robbing me of my rush. Don’t do it again. Now set up the flare so the party can start.”

Struggling to his feet, Vanisher draws the gun from the folds of his cloak. Pointing the gun in the air, Vanisher pulls the trigger, sending a blaze streak high into the air. As the sky lights up brilliantly behind them, Vanisher tosses the gun beside one of the crates.

“We’re done here. Next stop is the city.”

Mounjoy smiles menacingly. “Then by all means, let’s go watch the shit hit the fan.”

Dominic Petros sits cross-legged on the cold stone floor with his eyes closed. Deep within himself, he probes and concentrates on the earth around him. Toad may have given a nearly impossible task, but Avalanche will be damned if he fails where everone else succeeds.

Sweat trickles beneath Dominic’s helmet, the only visible sign of his efforts. Then, slowly yet rapidly quickening, Avalanche appears to vibrate. His teeth locked and his hands clenched, Avalanche shakes with such speed that he is hardly visible. The backlash is hitting him full-force, and it takes all his efforts not to scream in agony.

Around him, spreading with uncanny speed, the floor beneath Avalanche vibrates, followed by the whole cave. Stalactites fall around him, and stalactmites shatter, yet Avalanche is untouched. Shards of stone disintigrate far before they reach his blurred form.

Pushing his powers to the limit, Dominic reaches deep within himself and within the earth, attempting something he’s always boasted at, yet never tried.

Trish Tilby moaning in his arms, Dr. Wies watched the conflict with terror in his eyes. Thus far, Dr. Wies had seen Dr. McCoy as a kind-heartened, jovial man that took his work seriously yet always managed to make the worst situations seem better than they actually were.

The animal clashing with Toad most definately is not Dr. McCoy.

Toad managed to leap away from Beast’s first blows, catching only a clip on his jaw. Rolling with the blow, Toad delivers a powerful roundhouse kick, sending Beast hurtling. Cackling madly, Toad notices Dr. Wies and winks.

“Wussap! Keep an eye on that little bundle for me, doc. She nailed me not to long ago, and I’d love to return the favor.”

Roaring, Beast leaps at Toad. Toad just drops and rolls, kicking Beast in the gut as he flies overhead. “No quips this time, Hanky? Don’t worry, I’ll talk enough for both of us.”

Beast scrambles to the ground, momentarily stunned. Toad wastes no time, leaping on Beast’s back. “Y’know, I really thought this heat would help my cold, but I was wrong. I really need a hanky. Ahh-Chooooo!!!!!!” Toad sneezes on the back of Beast’s head, spraying spittle and some green stuff into that deep blue fur.

Leaping over Beast’s backhand swipe, Toad scurries back a short distance, that smile still plastered on his face. “Well, mwrowww! No need to be so catty. All I did was do your one true love. She even enjoyed it right up until she found out it was me.” Toad shows off his dirty whites. “Is it my breath?”

Shifting his hold on Ms. Tilby, Dr. Wies slowly backed away from the battle, looking about frantically. Where were the magistrates? Whatever the trouble at the lab, surely it wouldn’t keep a small group from checking out this disturbance.

Suddenly, the ground shifted, and Dr. Wies fought to stay on his feet. Was that a tremor? Impossible. Genosha doesn’t have earthquakes.

Next Issue: What did Vanisher and Mountjoy deliver? What are Pyro and Unuscione after? Is Avalanche doing what we think he’s doing? Can a rage-blinded Beast defeat a mocking Toad? Here’s a hint. The answers to the last two questions, in no particular order, are Yes and No.

Contact Stephen Crosby at: sjoc@linkny.com