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THE MIGHTY THOR MEETS THE BIPOLAR PROWLER 2099 UG
Written by Erik Burnham (darvey@rocketmail.com)
Edited by Jason Smith (grenville@kymtnnet.org)
The Prowler 2099 UG written by Erik
The Mighty Thor 2099 UG written by Jason Smith
* Thor 2099 created by Marvel Comics Inc, used w/out permission
** Kabal created by Jason Smith
*** The Prowler & Related Characters created by Erik Burnham
Deep Below the Dakota Wastelands
Unbeknownst to mankind in general, far below the remains of the great prairie, a gigantic complex exists. This complex houses the biotechnological conglomerate known as the Wild Card Project.
The Project's main goal is world domination. Hardly a new thing, just ask Victor Von Doom. The Project does, however, have one sizeable advantage over the Latverian Monarch, and many other would-be emperors for that matter, in that they exist in secret. They operate without the general knowledge of the world, buying small pieces of corporations new and old, recruiting scientists and soldiers and enhancing human beings.
Now, while genetic enhancement is nothing new in the world of 2099, the Project's methods are now and always have been… unique, to say the least.
Nanites were not considered a viable option by the Project's brain trust. Why bother with something that can be reprogrammed? That was the Wild Card logic. Besides, when the Card began their operations in 2064, nanites were scarcely as effective as they had currently become; no, the Project preferred to enhance qualities that had the inherent possibility to exist. Mutations that didn't occur at birth (as they were sometimes referred to in jest by scientists ill equipped to joking).
The Project had enhancement programs for the physical and the mental… and the results of each subsequent patient were generally unpredictable. They could determine which enhancement a person was best disposed to, and sometimes, they could even tell the intensity of the enhancement that said person would display…
…But they could NOT determine which abilities would manifest. Attempts to write such programs usually met with the same result - genetic upheaval, the creation of mindless, soulless beasts. The one subject on which a power-specific program HAD worked… well, decided to leave the premises during a jailbreak that had occurred some months back. Recent attempts to duplicate his procedure met with more failure; creating a legion of vicious, rage filled beasts nicknamed 'wolverines' by the Project's security detail.
Despite these setbacks, the Project still desired to create a power-specific patient - and would go to any lengths to achieve that goal.
To that end, a new member of the Project, Dr. Bolivar Martin, has called his fellow scientists together to discuss one such new approach.
"What you see before you are the Aesir," Dr. Martin said, indicating the holographic recording playing at the center of the room.
"A rather interesting concept, ladies and gentlemen… normal human beings imbued with the powers of the gods of ancient Asgard, and the beliefs that they ARE said deities." Dr. Martin chuckled at some private joke as Thor appeared in all his holographic glory, swinging Mjolnir with inhuman speed. From the expressions on some of the scientists' faces, Dr. Martin could tell his audience was hooked.
"A colleague of mine helped to work on this project," Martin continued. "These gods are nanite enhanced humans, obviously, but my colleague instilled a spark of wonder within me when he revealed that it didn't have to be that way…" Dr. Martin let his voice trail off into mystery. Clearly, he now had the undivided attention of every man and woman in the room.
Dr. Martin smiled. He had always loved theatrics. He loved even more commanding attention that was not associated with the mockery of his physical disability; a genetic defect that had caused Martin to grow too large… he was, in fact, so fat that he could not move without the aid of a personal transport. This disease was, to him, both a blessing and a curse; surely, it had garnered him much grief over the years, but it had also afforded him time to study the books he loved so; to learn, to escape being drafted into the Joint Metropolitan Police Force. Not to mention escaping the pressures of joining a gang. Almost a fair trade, Martin thought as he watched the holographic image of Thor disappear, a chart of data taking its place.
"The original plan was to write the abilities and memories directly on to the subjects' genetic palette; that plan was abandoned by the administrators who demanded the control offered by the nanites' reprogramability. Of course, this pathetic oversight hampered the potential of the Aesir, but that is another matter." Dr. Martin dramatically cleared his throat as yet another image of data emerged from the holographic projector.
"As you can plainly see, I have… acquired my colleague's original notes. And, after a few modifications, I believe that we should be able to write the abilities of the Aesir onto subjects of our own, integrating it with the desire to obey Wild Card personnel to the end of their existence… Yes," Dr. Martin said, acknowledging a scientist on the far end of the room.
"Doctor," the young scientist said. "your plan obviously cannot work without the original coding, am I correct?" Dr. Martin nodded, and the young scientist continued. "But the nanites which hold the last records of this coding, well, they're kind of… um, unattainable at present, are they not?"
" Ah, the impetuousness of youth," Dr. Martin mused to himself. "Always trying to prove yourself to your superiors." "My friend, are you telling me that you've been trained in the art of genetics and haven't ever heard of a vivisection?" Dr. Martin responded to the amusement of the room and the embarrassment of the young scientist, who promptly turned three shades of red and reclaimed his seat.
"All we need do, ladies and gentlemen, is capture one of these so-called gods and gain the data from a posthumous search of the DNA... posthumous, of course, so that the nanites are shunted into stasis, allowing us to get at the records they hold without any interference from the host body."
This answer caused a buzz amongst the scientists; the room became a din of whispers and gasps, dismissals and entreaties as the collected brain trust of the Wild Card Project discussed the merit of Dr. Martin's proposal.
"Silence," a deep bellow commanded from above, sounding, appropriately enough, like the voice of a god. Dr. Martin looked up to the catwalk above to see the imposing figure of Lomax, the director of the Project himself, along with his assistant, Ms. Rose, and the head of the Project's R&D sector, Dr. Richard Faust. From the moment he spoke, Lomax, a man that everyone knew about but had rarely seen, completely snatched the focus of the room's attention away from Dr. Martin.
"Faust," the deep voice continued. "Your opinion."
The thin, trembling man quietly voiced his disapproval to Lomax. And, although his weak vocal chords did not have the power of Lomax's, or even Martin's for that matter, the echo of his opinion still managed to reach the fat doctor's ear.
A grimace appeared on the large man's usually jovial face… Dr. Faust had just been added to the long list of people that would suffer for their sins against him.
Martin watched Faust whisper his venomous words into Lomax's ear, he watched Lomax nod, and he watched Lomax respectfully dismiss the frail doctor. Martin could almost see his dream project go up in smoke. And then, Lomax addressed the room once more.
"I have decided to give this project my blessing; its premise is too…" Lomax paused, looking to the returned holographic visage of Thor. "…tantalizing to resist."
Lomax nodded in acknowledgment to Dr. Martin, and began to leave when a voice bid him pause.
"Excuse me, sir," came the voice of the young scientist that had initially opposed Dr. Martin. "But I think that this project is too dangerous to go through with; the possibility for failure is just too high, in my opinion. Besides, we'd have to capture one of these Aesir to proceed, and that, well, it just doesn't seem like the smartest thing to do. Sir."
Lomax regarded this challenge to his authority with amusement in silence for a moment. Finally, smiling, he cordially asked the young scientist for his name.
"Dr. Thomas McCoy," the young man said with obvious enthusiasm. The boss had just asked for his name! This was indeed a banner day.
The young Dr. McCoy was still smiling as Lomax nodded to his second-in-command, the beautiful Ms. Rose, who promptly drew her 'peacekeeper' hand cannon and put a neat hole through the center of the young upstart.
At least he died smiling.
"Let me remind you, ladies and gentlemen, that my decisions are final and enforced with extreme prejudice. Our young Dr. McCoy, I'm sure, will happily attest to that fact. Ms. Rose, see that Dr. Martin gets whatever he needs," Lomax said in closing as he glided out of view.
"All right doctor," Ms. Rose said in velvety tones that reverberated with as much authority as Lomax's deep inflections. "What can we do for you?"
Downtown, New York, Three Days Later. . .
It was seventy-four degrees in New York, the sun smiling brightly upon this hub of the civilized world…
…And Lady Sif was enjoying every moment of the beautiful weather, laying atop the building she shared with her love, the Mighty Thor and his priest Kabal, inviting the rays of the brilliant sun to dance upon her voluptuous form.
After the tumultuous events of her life as of late, Sif was enjoying the peace and quiet immensely, when all of a sudden, a high-pitched whistle split through the air, disrupting the silence Sif had been enjoying with its shrill and intrusive qualities.
Sif looked up to see a young man riding on a blade skate, gawking at her body with the abandon of a man that did not know of her…boyfriend.
As if on cue, a voice that could split the heavens violently displaced the whistle, roaring from behind Sif's field of vision, filled with an anger she was all-too familiar with.
"By Odin," came the voice of Thor, rocketing towards the skater with all the speed of the winds he commanded.
"You would dare to gaze upon the Lady Sif in all her splendor? You would dare invade her privacy? Foolish mortal!" The mighty Thor shot through the skateboard as though it were made of rice paper, grabbing hold of the peeping tom even as the large board rushed to a meeting with the ground below.
Thor could feel the adolescent trembling in his iron grasp as he hovered a good fifteen stories off of the ground.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" the boy repeated over and over, his adrenal glands ready to explode with fear.
Thor was in the midst of deciding whether to simply drop the boy or smite him with lightning from the heavens for his insolence when the voice of the Lady Sif reached his ears, pleading with the thunder god to let the boy go free.
And that was all it took. For all his power, Thor could not deny his love anything she desired… and if she desired this infidel to live, then live he would. Thor glided over to a nearby building and tossed the lad to the rooftop, holding him in a menacing glare.
"Know this, boy," the thunder god said. "The only reason you still live is due to the entreaty of my Lady Sif; thy life is my gift to her. But be warned - if ever you return, do not assume that you shall again receive such a merciful reaction." Thor paused, noting the fear he had instilled in the lad. "Disappear," Thor commanded as he flew back to Sif's side.
"How could you do that, Thor?" Sif demanded even before the thunder god had alighted on the rooftop. "He was just a kid!"
"You chastise me for defending thy honor," Thor asked, mildly puzzled.
"Yeah, I do! Look, Thor, the kid was just working out some hormones, okay? He wasn't hurting anybody! Not the way YOU could've when you dropped that razor sharp, blade skate down below! What if it had fallen on someone?"
Thor paused, he had not considered that particular consequence in the throes of fury.
"Indeed, I may have been rash, milady. But I would not undo what I have done. All has worked out in the end… and thy honor remains as unblemished as thy radiant beauty."
It took a moment, but Sif wound up smiling.
"Are you trying to sweet talk your way out of this," she asked.
"Aye," Thor replied, a smile forming on his own lips as he stepped forward to embrace his lady.
The Benjamin R. Richards International Jetport, Minnepaul
The Benjamin Richards Jetport was somewhat of a legendary structure to the citizens of Minnepaul; it had survived the War of the Twins when precious little else had remained. And even though it had been remodeled several times since its initial dedication to the grandson of the twencen hero Mr. Fantastic, it still remained… familiar. Friendly. Most people felt a connection to the original twin cities when in the historic complex's atmosphere, and that connection had the uncommon ability to make folks feel good.
Well, most folks.
Barnaby Jacobs was one of those annoying individuals that resisted a feel good atmosphere just for the sake of it. And the fact that the atmosphere just happened to exist in a jetport made it all the easier; Barnaby hated to travel.
And if there was thing on the entire planet that he hated more than traveling, it would have to be the city of New York.
"What's wrong with New York, man," the irritatingly optimistic voice of Quentin Broderick bubbled from the back of Barnaby's mind.
"What isn't," Barnaby responded. "It's a den of filth, filled with idiots of every denomination. If I were in charge of things, I'd port the whole city out of existence."
"You have no sense of history, Barnaby," Quentin continued. "New York is where everything happens. It was the center of the Heroic Age, and it still boasts the largest collection of costumed…"
"Can we please drop that subject? Just for once," an annoyed Barnaby pleaded. "All I want to do is zip in to that place, finalize the details for Equinico's appropriation of that old Alchemax equipment, and get home without ANY complications."
"So you're saying it wouldn't be a thrill to meet, I dunno, Spider-Man? Or, or maybe the…"
"No," Barnaby raged. "I do NOT want to meet any of those freaks, all right?"
"Then why did you bring the suit," Quentin teased.
"Because you threatened to head Downtown and do a jig in the street, holding a giant sign that said… what was it you were going to put on the sign?"
"If you can read this you're rotting in a cesspool of the human spirit. I suggest you mug me and throw me in the East River."
"Exactly. Y'know, the sad thing is that I'd expec t that from you," Barnaby said as he handed the attendant his ticket.
"I can tell you what else you can expect, Barnaby," Quentin said. "Look at the blonde woman we just passed."
Barnaby turned his head to lock eyes with one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. After managing a goofy smile and continuing toward his seat, Barnaby sighed out loud and finally, after a moment of deliberation, internally responded to Quentin.
"Don't tell me - she's involved with your little conspiracy theory."
"Yup. And when we get to New York, you and me are gonna follow her."
"Now you know I wouldn't normally mind, but right now all I want is to get to the hotel and get some sleep before I…"
"I packed a marker and a large piece of paper in your things last night," Quentin said with a grim edge to his voice.
"Right, so we follow her," Barnaby acquiesced as he took his seat and attempted, in vain, to make himself comfortable.
NYX International Jetport, New York
The Minnepaulian transport touched down in New York according to schedule, its passengers disembarking with the shuffle and bustle common to public transportation. People were shoving and pushing in a hurry to get off the jet and go about whatever business they had in the Big Apple.
And of course, Barnaby Jacobs was shoving harder and with less regard for his fellow human beings than anyone else, making it off the transport nearly right away.
"You could've at least apologized to that old woman you knocked down," Quentin chided. Barnaby ignored him.
"Look, you wanted me to follow this woman, Broderick. The least you could do is shut up when I go about doing it." Barnaby said as he searched for a secluded area to change into the shadowy garb of the Prowler.
Downtown, New York The Next Day. . .
The temperature topped ninety degrees by eleven o'clock, and Sif just could not resist the temptation of the sun, its seductive rays calling her forth, begging her to bask in their glory for a while.
So, despite Thor's request to the contrary, Sif donned her bathing suit and headed for the roof.
Ten minutes later, the thunder god appeared next to her.
"Again I find you engaged in this… this activity," Thor said, more than a little bit irritated. "I do not understand thy obsession with exposing thy body to the world of mortals in such a fashion… allowing them sights of such perfection…" Thor paused, Sif's lovely form momentarily diverting Thor from his diatribe. "It is not right," Thor finally concluded.
"Yes, well. I happen to like it," Sif said, without looking up. "It makes me beautiful."
"If you wouldst think, milady, that it be possible to improve upon a beauty that already singes mine eyes, I heartily encourage thy efforts. I merely wish they were not so… public."
With that admission, Sif sat up, a wide smile upon her face.
"You're jealous!" she exclaimed, amused.
"Nay, milady. I merely fear for your honor, as always."
"Sure, Thor. Sure. You're jealous." Sif giggled as she lay back down.
"Milady, I assure you," Thor began before a frantic knocking diverted his attention.
"Lord Thor, Lord Thor!" came the familiar voice of Kabal from outside Thor's apartment. "Come quickly!"
"Friend Kabal, what is the urgency," Thor inquired as the smaller man continued to urge him on.
"There's no time to talk, my lord! We must hurry!"
"Very well. Excuse us, milady, we shall return soon," Thor exclaimed, following Kabal out of the room.
"Take your time, big boy," Sif mumbled as she drifted off to sleep under the sun's seductive warmth.
"The gas 's worked," a masked man said, peering at the unconscious Sif through a telescope, some two blocks away. "Snatch & grab, boys. Make it quick."
With that command, two other similarly masked men reached for each other's hand, and blinked out of existence for a moment, only to reappear in the first man's telescope, lifting Sif off of her sun chair.
"Gotcha, babe," the man said, smiling beneath his mask.
Meanwhile, a block away, Thor, unaware of his lady's fate, continues to follow Kabal - his impatience beginning to show.
"What is the urgency, my friend? Where are we going," Thor demanded.
"Hey, you're right," Kabal said in a voice that was not his own. "We've been goin' long enough. Y'know, I gotta admit, for a god, you're pretty stupid."
"What treachery is this, Kabal," Thor demanded, taking hold of Mjolnir.
"Whoa, hey, be careful with that thing," 'Kabal' said as he features begin to melt away. "You could put someone's eye out!" The man that had claimed to be Thor's trusted associate was now featureless, save for a heart tattoo on his right arm.
"Hey, I can't say it's been a barrel of laughs, but what the hey - I will anyway. Bye bye, Thorsy-babe! Catch ya later," the faceless man said as he vanished into thin air.
"Odin's blood," Thor exclaimed, fully realizing the trickery at last. "Sif!" Thor said, concluding that he was drawn away from his love for a reason. If that was the case, Thor thought, the faceless man's blood would stain the streets before the day was done.
His anger renewed, Thor hefted Mjolnir and vaulted into the heavens, speeding home.
Back at the penthouse, Thor searches in futility for Sif, who is nowhere to be seen. Thor screams in rage, his voice calling out to the heavens, thunder splitting the air.
"My lord?" came the dazed voice of Kabal, stumbling in from the hallway.
"Demon!" Thor exclaimed, leaping at his friend.
"No, my lord, it is I! Kabal!"
"Your lies will not save you, demon," Thor growled as he lifted Kabal off the ground. "You will die a slow and painful death unless you tell me where you have hidden my lady Sif!"
Kabal coughed and fought to speak through Thor's grip.
"M-my lord… I was knocked out," Kabal stuttered, coughing and gasping for air. "I swear to you, I am your friend!"
Thor looked deep into the eyes of his captive, seeing no presence of the insolence that had permeated the gaze of the faceless demon who'd assumed Kabal's form. Thor relaxed his grip, easing his friend to the ground.
"I had thought you were a demon," Thor said.
An uncomfortable silence took hold of the room as Kabal fought to regain his power of speech.
"Sif is gone." Thor said grimly, kneeling by his friend. "A faceless demon spirited her away."
"What are you going to do, my lord," Kabal coughed.
"I shall search, Kabal. I shall search until Ragnarok claims me from this earth!"
"What if it's a ransom, my lord?"
"Ransom?"
Kabal attempted to elaborate, but was seized by a coughing fit. After he regained composure, he answered Thor's query.
"What if they abducted Lady Sif for a ransom? Maybe they want to trade…"
"Trade? They shall trade their lives for this effrontery," Thor said, charging to the balcony. "When I find them…"
"My lord, wait," Kabal said as loud as he could. Thor turned, annoyed at the interruption, even from Kabal.
"What if they attempt to contact us for a trade? Then they'd tell us where we could. . ."
"I have no time for this talk of trading, Kabal. The longer I wait, the more chance these demons have of harming milady!"
"N-no, my lord - I was not suggesting you stay behind, I would be gald to wait in your stead. I was merely suggesting you wear a communicator."
"Very well, Kabal. Fetch me one," Thor said, humoring his worried servant. "And be quick about it!"
Downtown, New York
Ms. Rose made her way down into the miniature complex Wild Card had hidden in the bowels of New York's Downtown area. She stepped into the main lab, greeted with the sight of an unconscious and restrained Lady Sif, displayed with all the pride of a hunting trophy by the four masked men who were charged with her capture… The Wild Card's Four Aces. These four men were some of the Card's first genetically perfect enhancees, and remained the most loyal. They are: the faceless Mimic, master of camouflage; the twins Castor and Pollox, whose talent for teleportation was impressive but useless unless they were together; and the team leader Offspring, whose abilities were to temporarily transform people into duplicates of himself.
"She is beautiful," Ms Rose said, startling the Aces, who weren't aware of her presence. "Too beautiful to rip apart for scientific gain. I would have much preferred the so-called thunder god."
The faceless Mimic laughed.
"Ain't that just like management, boys? She just don't appreciate the lengths we go to…" Mimic paused for maximum effect. "…for bait."
Now it was Ms. Rose's turn to smile.
"I have underestimated you, boys," Ms. Rose said as she turned to leave. "Keep up the good work."
Offspring saluted her as she left, and then turned to the twins.
"Get going, you two. Deliver the message. We'll get set up."
The twins nodded in silence, grasping each other's hands and blinking out of sight.
Thor's Penthouse Apartment. . .
Kabal nearly had a heart attack when he turned to witness Castor and Pollox appear out of nowhere in front of him.
The twins handed a scrap of paper to the startled man.
"Tell Thor," Castor started.
"To go to this address." Pollox finished.
"What? Why!? Is this where Sif has been taken?"
The twins looked at each other before answering Kabal.
"Yes," they said in unison.
"Why did you take her? What do you want," Kabal probed further.
"Thor," the twins answered, again in unison, before blinking out of the room. Kabal rushed to his communicator immediately.
"My lord," Kabal asked, hoping the thunder god hadn't switched the device off.
"Yes, Kabal," came the deeply irritated voice of his master.
"The whereabouts of Lady Sif have been revealed to me, my lord, but…"
"Tell me," Thor commanded, the volume of his voice bringing with it some powerful sonic feedback.
"My lord, I fear it may be a trap…" Kabal sheepishly replied.
"No doubt, Kabal. But do you really think they have a hope of opposing me? I am Thor! Now tell me, where the cowards have taken her?!"
Kabal sighed and related the address to Thor, adding a caution when he finished.
"Be careful, my lord…" Kabal said even as he hear the signal fading. Thor had switched the communicator off.
Downtown, New York - The Wild Card Bunker
Ms. Rose exited the building that served as a front for the bunker, disabled the security measures on her transport, and took off into the rapidly approaching night.
At the top of the building, the Prowler watches her go. "Now what do you suppose a classy chick like that is doing in a dump like this?" Barnaby asked.
"Gee, I don't know, Barnaby - could it be this building is more than it seems," Quentin responded.
"Something being more than it seems.. hmm.. no, impossible."
"Well you sound like you're starting to enjoy being the Prowler," Quentin mused.
"I am not the Prowler, Broderick. You are. I just wore the suit to follow the chick."
"For the second time, I might add," Quentin said, feeling the transformation coming about with the setting of the sun. "I think this building isn't the only thing that's more than it seems."
The sun had finally set, banishing Barnaby Jacobs to the confines of his own mind even as Quentin Broderick stretched the muscles of the body he was now in control of.
"Whaddaya say we check this place out, Barnaby?" Quentin asked as he leapt over the side of the building, shooting a grappling line from his gauntlet to swing down to the ground below.
