Iron Man 2099UG
Issue #1, Volume 1
Written by Gary M. Miller
Edited by Hugo Ferreira
Alchemax, Inc. loomed in the background and Stark-Fujikawa lurked in the foreground as the men made their way from the latter building to the underground. Looking left, looking right, they figured it would be safe to move forward. Another few steps, another look. The routine continued for a considerably long time. They looked all around but could see no sign of future interference.
**Good,** thought young Andros Starr, **maybe we can get away this time.** Just then the sky police, the Public Eye, made themselves known. **Damn, guess that says a whole lot for my timing. Or my detective skills. One of the two. Gotta make it to Mach's--and fast!!**
"This is the Public Eye. We don't want to harm you. Just stop where you are and give us the briefcase. That is all we ask. Please."
**The briefcase? No shockin' way,** thought Andros as he gritted his teeth, standing below the six-armed officers. They'd obviously been commissioned through Alchemax, but why would they help out their competitor company? Andros had but a moment to ponder as they fired a warning shot not six inches from his feet.
"We mean what we say, Mister Starr, Professor Bann. Hand over the briefcase and you will not be harmed!" The voice sounded like gravel, and yet at the same time, it was mesmerizing in its tone. The briefcase Andros carried with him seemed to become heavier and heavier, but his hand never succumbed to the orders of the flying men. He had to get to his destination, the only place where he or anyone else could be safe. The lives of millions of people depended upon it.
"We have to run!!" shouted Bann. "You'll never take us alive!!" he yelled to the Eye, as if triumphant.
"Bann, you idiot!" Andros threatened. "Not that way! You're going to get us killed!"
"You're probably right," said one of the sky-cyclers. With that, the officer pulled out his gun and shot Bann dead, a new cavity carved out in his chest. He dropped over, and that was it. Andros took one look at Bann, then one look at the officers. "Just try it, buddy, and we'll fry your shockin' hide and take the briefcase. We don't care. We're just followin' our orders. You wanna be next? Then come on and protest. Actually, maybe," he cocked something on his laser pistol, "maybe you'd better start begging. Now."
Andros Starr didn't move.
"Now, shock you!" Another laser blast shook the ground, and in the cloud of smoke that surprisingly arose from the spot where the beam hit, Andros made his departure.
Only weeks ago was fun-loving Andros Starr, aged twenty, made part of a team to come up with designs for a new type of stealth technology that would enable its wearer to pretty much start another World War. But Stark-Fuji didn't say it in so many words. No, they wouldn't dare. Instead, it was a minor "defensive project." But for Andros, it turned out to be so much more.
He worked furiously every day and every night on the plans, not satisfied until he had the design just as he wanted it. And Stark-Fuji had zero tolerance for failure. They only wanted one thing from him: the blueprints, on holos. They alone wanted to be the ones to build it. No prototypes, no other versions of their saving grace, just theirs. But Andros learned what they were going to do, however, just as he was putting the finishing touches on the design, and decided to make a break for it. He worked all day and all night to complete the armor, and with a molecular biochemist friend, Bann, fused the final elements into what would be called "armor," but what was in fact so much more. But on the way out of the building, someone spotted them with the armor, and the rest was history. The rest was present. And as any man will tell you, there's no time quite like it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shooting began and Andros dodged a rain of laser fire. While not exactly the athletic sort, Andros, with his slender build, got the hang of it quickly, and ran several blocks, venturing further and further. He didn't know how fast he ran, but there was no question: the slums. Downtown. It would not be quick enough. They fired again, and one of the shots went directly through his leg. The blond-haired man winced and then fell to the ground, rising up occasionally and trying to limp his way underground. He had to getaway! He had to get the briefcase to--
The briefcase.
He had dropped it when he took the fall.
He scrambled backward until he found what he feared. The Public Eye had already seized the case. With it would go the free world.
"Shock," muttered Andros under his breath. The Public Eye stepped up to him. They had hate gleaming in their visors. One pulled out one of their laser rifles.
"Die, scum!" yelled this one.
Another one stepped up. "Andros Starr? Security at S/F warned us that you would attempt to escape. We now have the object we were commissioned to protect. Do you wish to leave us to go with it, or do you wish to resist?"
Andros looked at them all with sheer anger. Holding his leg with one hand, with the other hand he showed them his gratitude. In particular, with one finger. "Go shock yourselves," said the inventor. He sneered at them before lunging to conquer one of the Eye. Though his leg was causing him pain, it was nowhere near as much in comparison to the amount of anger that was overwhelming him. He beat and beat the man five or six times with furious punches before anyone raised a hand to stop him.
Andros lunged for another one then, changing his attack to keep them guessing. He wouldn't admit it, but he wasn't really much of a fighter. Enough to get by. And as he admitted this to himself, he was shot down with another laser, this time aimed at his arm.
"The next time will be square in your chest, sir." The mean one who had spoken first wiped his mouth of his blood and aimed the laser directly where he said he would.
Andros didn't even breathe.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was interrupted by a sharp blow to the back of the neck, followed by much the same for his comrades. Each one fell with only minute effort. Frankly, Andros, who desperately wanted to be saved, was not so sure now about his hope.
He was then lifted with ease to eye-level with the one who was probably the leader of the rescue force. The man was huge, by all definitions a monster. He stood seven feet tall, weighing in at possibly three hundred pounds, with layers of solid muscle all over. The man was mixed black and white, and his face showed the anger at the world's prejudice against men with skin such as he. This man had the muscle to back his statements up, and from the bruises and dried blood on his knuckles, he could see that the man exercised this ability quite often.
"Who are you," the brute asked, "and why have you come here?" The man then had friends, it seemed, who arrived as this question was posed.
One of them was wickedly short and utterly deformed, with long hair and a bony body. His fingernails and toenails were long, his eyes bulged out, his teeth protruded, and in short, he looked positively awful. Another one was of medium height, fat, and oddly hunched over. He had scars on more than ninety percent of his body. Surgical scars. He had very obviously been experimented upon. And the third one, she was a medium-build, one may even say attractive, a woman with chalk-white skin, long green hair, and blood-red eyes. Maybe she had been subjected to something bizarre, as well.
"My name is Andros Starr, and I've got to get out of here. The Public Eye, they killed my friend..."
The female interrupted, bringing her hand up to Andros's face and stroking it gently with her fingernails. "Was your friend in need of death?" she asked. That was an especially strange question.
"No! Not at all. We were running from our company. They tried to kill us and steal what we had created..."
The fat one belched and began to rub his bulging blubber. "And what have you created, Mister Starr...?"
"It's a top-secret project. You don't understand, I have to get to my friend, he lives underground, I have to hide!" Andros felt his heart begin to beat faster. He had to escape, but how could he when this massive brute had him right where he wanted him?
No sooner did he ponder this than did the brute throw him onto the ground. The female licked her lips and went in for the kill. The bony one and the fat one laughed. Only the brute had the sense to interrupt the proceedings.
"Stop!!!" he exclaimed. He stood up to the white-skinned woman, and now one could see the hulking beast of a man against the sheer caged fury of the small woman. Eventually, through words that could not be otherwise discussed, the verbal quarrel was over, and the brute returned to Andros.
"Let me see your project," Brute said as he picked up the case which contained the armor. Starr made an attempt to grab it away from him, but it was a futile one. Brute opened the case and found a mess of circuitry inside. It leaped away from him and began to form what seemed like a sarcophagus, starting from the ground and working its way up.
**That nanotech, it's a wonder,** thought Starr. Indeed it was, as the sarcophagus extended itself and soon stood over eight feet tall, fully outfitted with circuits and so forth. It looked quite out of place in an alley such as this one. A strange glow surrounded the object, and the Brute seemed awestruck by this display of color and light. He stepped closer to the box as the others watched. Starr wanted to do more than watch.
"Get away from it! You don't know what you're doing! It's experimental! I must have it back so I can test it!"
"Get that idiot out of here. I got this shockin' thing under control," said Brute, and so it was that Starr was carried off, kicking and screaming like the average two-year-old. Swiftly he was beaten and tossed down into the underground.
As he lay on the border of unconsciousness, he heard the brute scream.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Brute screamed as the sentient nanites within the sarcophagus began to writhe about, beginning to cover his entire body. As they did this a figure began to form out of the circuitry in the box. It looked human, now beginning to show shades of red and gold here and there. A pink fluid, what would probably be the nanites, started to pump through circuitry "veins," providing power to the entire structure. It glowed brightly and made the figure look more than human. It was in fact so far from human that no one could possibly have a way of comprehending.
The figure began to flesh itself out, giving itself first a body of gold, then a suit with a red breastplate on which was centered more of the gold (the red outlined this part of the form so what was left was like a keyhole) and in the gold a rectangular patch through which flowed much of the pink fluid. It continued to bubble as the outward appearance changed. Armor plating in black joined its abdomen, with strange glass-looking pods aligning themselves thereupon. Plating continued on its shoulders, rather huge plating with cylindrical forms extending to each side of the body. Red gloves appeared, with what looked like guns mounted to the forearms. Then, as though the nanites changed their collective minds, one arm, the right, shaped itself into a mass of golden spikes from every possible angle. A sharp ax-like apparatus replaced the right hand. The left stayed the same. Long boots came from the feet up to half the length of the thigh, themselves colored deep red. Assembling itself within only several seconds, the body, the "armor" as Starr had called it, was almost completed, except for the facemask. It had remained golden, but then a shade of red enveloped it. One could nearly see a human face poking out through the metal, but that was impossible. Then a piece of golden metal appeared over the face, with two facets of it pointed upward, similar to the ancient Heroic Age's Wolverine, but the form remained faceless.
Then Brute joined with it.
As though hypnotized, the man stepped directly into the armor, which parted to allow him entry, but then just as quickly sealed off the outside world. No nanites were floating nearby as far as one could tell. All had collectively joined with the suit as the sarcophagus disappeared into the suit, making two storage tanks in the back of the suit. The phasing was complete. The Brute was one with the armor which had been the top-secret project.
**What's happened?** was the first thought that popped into Brute's head. He realized that somehow, he had become part of the armor, part of the experiment, through no fault of his own. Or was it actually his fault all along? He had pressured the situation, and this was the end result. He didn't like tech, but now he was a living part of it.
Then the others arrived on the scene. They began to draw their weapons, but Brute wanted to warn them, that they were safe, and that this was him.
"What have you done with our friend? What have you done with him? Tell us now!!!" the tall, skinny one screamed.
Oh, how Brute wanted to tell them that this was he, that all would be fine.
There was only one small problem.
He couldn't find out how to get the damned suit to let him talk.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The battle was fast and furious. Brute did not want to hurt his comrades, one had to understand that.
The problem was that his comrades didn't. No matter how lightly he tried to avoid the situation, the hits just kept on coming, and the threats did as well. He didn't want to be doing this, but what else could he do when he couldn't make this suit make sounds past what sounded like roars?
Eventually, through more and more exposure to how the suit ran, he decided to flee. He could run, that could get him far. How far, though, he could only guess. All that was up in the air as one thought raced through his head. He had to find Starr. Starr was the one with the key to how this thing operated. Starr designed it, for God's sake! So, he ran. His friends followed.
Every move he made, his friends/enemies were one step behind. He found his way across town as the Public Eye spotted him.
"I think we found one of Starr's tinker toys," said one of the flyboys. "We're going to follow him."
The base leader replied with a question. "What does the pursuant look like? Repeat, what does he look like?"
"It seems, sir, that it's a red-and-gold suit of body armor. Incredibly big, possibly seven-and-a-half feet tall, with broad shoulders, big muscles, the whole bit."
"Oh my God, Starr's let his Tinkertoy loose," said the base leader to himself, not counting on the officer picking it up on the com-link. He did but didn't say anything.
"Officer, can you hold for a minute while I connect with S/F?" The answer was yes. The silence went on for roughly four minutes.
Changing his outlook, or at least trying to, the base leader said, "Officer, I want you to blow that thing to kingdom come. I don't care what S/F says, we're going to destroy it, and Starr with it, if we're lucky!"
"Yes, sir!" the officer replied.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the flyboys in hot pursuit, Brute crashed underground, hoping to find Starr. Hoping also that he could manage to talk. He hoped there was a way of moving around faster, though. This, with his friends, thinking him an enemy, and him not being able to communicate with them, was becoming a bit of a hassle.
Finally, Brute saw Starr directly in front of him, still apparently unconscious. He bent down to try and get him to talk. He tried to talk as well when he saw the searchlights above.
"This is the Public Eye! Come out of there!"
Brute ignored them. Who were they, anyway? Rent-a-cops, that's who. Quickly he fumbled to shake Starr awake, but there was no response. Suddenly, something switched on inside the armor. Whether it was by sheer force of will or what, he didn't know, but Brute took it as a sign. All these numbers and everything collided with his vision, sending him reeling for a minute. Before too long, though, he was fine or appeared to be. He felt his throat a bit, then tried to purr. It came out perfectly. He barked, and that was accomplished too, although his voice was a bit different now, more electronic. He didn't have time to get used to it, though. He tried rousing Starr again.
After a minute, Starr regained consciousness. >>OK, lay it on him now," thought Brute.
"Mister, you got a lot of explainin' to do!! How did I end up in this stupid armor? Your stupid shockin' project!! I didn't want any of this, and now you got me here, comin' straight for you for answers! I want to know how to get out of this armor! You hear me! Get me out!"
Starr wasn't listening. He was transfixed by the lights above. The flyboys were ready to do something, and it didn't look good for the home team.
"Mister Starr! Whoever you are in the red and gold! We are truly sorry, but to preserve corporate peace, you must be eradicated."
As they said this, Brute's friends began to examine what exactly the situation was. One of them said in uncertainty, "Are you...?"
"Yes," he replied, "I am--" And with that, all voices were drowned out like the whistle of a bomb dropping grew louder and louder. And like all such noises end, this one did too, with a rather sizable explosion.
KA-BOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Next month in IRON MAN 2099 002: More of the supporting cast is introduced (but what will there be of the main cast after this month?). A man's dying wish. Intervention by Stark-Fujikawa. The Specialist?
0 Comments