FORCE WORKS #47

by Shan Kelley

New York City 9:00 am

It was a full house. In the assembly hall, every seat was filled with a foreign dignitary, military officer or journalist. They were all waiting in anticipation of what John Patterson; the Conference Chairman and the U.S. Presidents best friend would have to say. Patterson’s ability to accomplish any assigned task was legendary and the assembled people held little doubt that this conference would come to some resolution to address the issue before them: how to break the power of the drug cartels.

"On behalf of the President of the United States, I welcome you to the first International Conference on Drug Policy. It is my hope that we will find the appropriate solution to ending the threat posed by the South American drug cartels and that..."

The wall exploded.

The alert came in at 9:02.

By 9:05, Code Blue was enroute to the scene.

Code Blue was the New York City Police Department’s answer to the threat posed by superpowered villains. It was the brainchild of their commander, Lt. Marcus Stone, a longtime police officer and a veteran of the NYPD’s SWAT Program. They had been tested in battle against superhuman foes on several occasions and had always come out on top. Stone himself was famous for single-handedly dispatching one of Thor’s foes, Ulik, with one well-placed shot. Most of the members of Code Blue were confident that this time would be no different. They would go in, kick ass, take names and be drinking beer in celebration by lunchtime.

As the helicopter approached the area, Stone informed his team, "2 minutes until insertion," then he looked over his team.

Maria "Rigger" Ruiz was ready. She was easily the tallest and most muscular member of the team. She was tough and aggressive, yet taciturn. Ruiz feared no one, superpowered or normal, and held no fear of this mission.

Next, he glanced over at Andrew "Jock" Jackson whose speed; skill at acrobatics and preference for hit-and-run tactics made him lethal to most foes. Jock was easily the most amiable member of the team, but he would shoot a villain dead in a heartbeat if the criminal was threatening the lives of civilians or his teammates. He was looking a bit tense, but Stone was certain he would do his job.

Joe "Fireworks" Fielstein looked like he was about to throw up. He was the team’s quiet, competent demolitions expert. He could defuse a bomb or build one depending on the needs of the mission. Stone knew that Fireworks was the member of the team that was the most intimidated by superpowered criminals; however, he had never dropped the ball on a mission and Stone doubted today would be any different.

The other member of the team on the helicopter was John "Mad Dog" Rassitano. A tough, loud-talking police officer whose gung-ho style of operation had proven too much to handle for most of his superiors. Mad Dog talked so often and in such volume that an old timer tried to stick him with the name "Yappy." However, Rassitano’s fists on the veteran cop’s face (whom Mad Dog derisively referred to as Donut-Eating Man), quickly banished the nickname, "Yappy", into the void. It also nearly destroyed the young police officer’s career. He owed Stone for bailing him out of that mess and so he was always particularly conscientious and efficient. Mad Dog, talking away about nothing, looked his usual unflappable self as the helicopter got closer to the combat zone.

The final member of the team was not on the chopper, but sitting in a van speeding towards the target area. He was John "Mother" Majowski, easily the most experienced man on the team. Majowski had been a successful police officer and a legend in the department when a freak car accident had killed his wife and children and left him as a cripple in a wheelchair. He served as the unit’s armorer, training officer, and resident computer guru. His role in battle was to take the information generated by Code Blue in combat and perform tactical analyses. In addition, he was the team’s primary communications link to their superiors and tried to provide intelligence and a threat assessment, when possible, on what Code Blue would be facing. On this mission, no intelligence was available on possible opponents, so Mother spent his time triple-checking all of his computer and communications resources in the van. He was a perfectionist and the mission would NOT fail because of something he didn’t do or failed to check.

Marcus Stone’s thought briefly of his wife. Margaret was the perfect woman and the love of his life. She teasingly referred to him as "Mr. Bald, Black and Bad," which never failed to make him laugh. Marcus always found himself thinking of her enroute to an operational insertion. He loved her so much. He grasped his weapon tighter and said, "30 seconds" then began to look out over the target area.

Mad Dog said; "Look at all the smoke."

"Burning police cars if the reports from the scene are accurate," replied Stone stoically.

As they got closer they began to see the bodies in the street. Stone stated, "Everyone watch... call out if you see movement" as he began to look for a place for the helicopter to drop them off.

"Either they’re in the building or we’re too late... let’s set down over there...." He was gesturing to the pilot when the bullets tore through the open crew door of the helicopter. Blood splattered over the crew compartment and the members of Code Blue. Jock yelled, "Fielstein’s hit!" as Fireworks dropped his weapon and frantically grabbed at his neck. Stone barked, "Help him and (to the pilot) set us down."

As the helicopter dove towards the ground, Stone heard Ruiz’s calm voice over his earphone, "I’ve got one guy flying around with a gun out here... I am engaging." As the words came out, Ruiz fired out the left door.

Ruiz, sounding a little excited, said, "Damn.... I missed. Pick him up Mad Dog." Mad Dog, covering the right door, began firing then yelled; "I got him! I got him! He’s going down!"

Jock, in a voice bordering on panic, "I can’t get the bleeding to stop... it must have hit an artery!" Stone heard Mother say in his earphones, "Ambulances were already on the way... they should be there in less than a minute. Just stay calm Jock." The helicopter was nearly to the ground.

Stone woke to the sound of firing. "Sounds like a pistol," he thought. That’s when he realized that the helicopter was moving. It was sliding with great speed over the street gouging the asphalt. He was still strapped into the front passenger seat of the helicopter and was hanging down to the left. He awkwardly twisted his head around and could see a pair of boots standing on the remains of a seat. The firing continued. He heard Jocks voice saying, "Shit, shit, shit," over and over like a mantra. Stone quickly checked himself out. He was sore, but uninjured. He grabbed hold of the edge of the passenger door with his right hand to support himself then used his left to hit the quick release on his seat belt. As he grasped the window edge and braced his feet to climb up and see what was happening the helicopter slammed hard into something and stopped moving.

Stone crumpled to the bottom of the helicopter. He lay there a moment and thought, "My arm hurts." He looked and saw it was soaked in blood. He glanced up and saw a jagged piece of metal with a piece of blue cloth hanging on it. "Must have cut it," he thought. The laughter from outside the helicopter startled him back into the reality of the situation.

He spoke into his whisper-mike, "Anyone there?" After several tries he realized it was not working. "Radios non-operational," he thought, "but I’m still working." He then looked around for his rifle, but it was nowhere to be found, so he patted his side, felt the comforting presence of his M1911A1 .45 caliber pistol and pulled it out as he crawled out the smashed windshield of the helicopter. He felt pain in his legs as the shattered glass cut through the cloth of his pants.

Stone surveyed the scene as he shakily staggered to his feet. Rigger Ruiz lay, on her back, across the trunk of a smashed car about thirty feet away. Stone couldn’t tell if she were breathing or not. As he advanced towards her he stepped on something in the scratched street. He looked down. It was a hand with a shooting glove on it. "That’s Jock’s," he thought numbly then continued his swerving stagger towards Ruiz.

He finally arrived at the car and immediately checked her vital signs. She was still breathing and her pulse was strong. As a sense of relief started to rise he glanced over the car and recoiled. Mad Dog’s head lay in the street with his body lying nearby. "Must have been thrown from the helicopter and decapitated by the blade when we went down," he thought with horror.

Stone spun around and saw four men standing there. Three were young and he didn’t recognize them. The fourth, he did recognize from FBI bulletins. The man in the red suit with black web designs on it was an infamous assassin, Tarantula. As he raised his pistol to fire he didn’t even see the blow that knocked him down.

Marcus lay there bleeding and stunned. The last words he heard, as his consciousness fled was Tarantula’s voice say, "The International Commission is dead and so is Code Blue." Darkness took him.

New York City 9:27 am.

A van pulled up. Within minutes Mother Majowski was rolling around in his wheelchair, unlit cigar clinched between his teeth, directing the rescue and evidence recovery efforts. Every member of the International Commission was dead. Rigger Ruiz had some cuts, bruises and a nasty headache, but would be fine in a couple of days. Jock Jackson was in critical condition. He had assorted injuries, some internal, and a severed hand. Mother knew from experience that if Jock stayed with the force, he would be condemned to doing office work for the rest of his career. Fireworks and Mad Dog were dead. One killed by a bullet to the neck and the other due to fatal impact with a helicopter rotor. Lieutenant Marcus Stone, their commander, had survived the massacre with minor injuries. The paramedics had sedated him as they led him to an ambulance with tears streaming down his cheeks all the while swearing revenge on the perpetrators of this crime. Majowski had immediately called the department to send a car to pick up Stone’s wife and take her to the hospital.

Mother thought, "If only my legs weren’t noodles I might have been here. Maybe I could have made a difference." He was brought out of his self-recrimination by a voice saying; "This reporters camera is still running." Majowski looked up and barked, "Bring it here NOW!" Mother thought, "We’ll find out who did this and they are gonna pay."

In a government building in Washington D.C 10:32 am

"Yes sir Mr. President. We all grieve for the loss of these people and we’ll plan for an immediate response," Raymond Sikorsky said into the phone. He hung up. Sikorsky stood, exited his office and walked down the hall into the conference room.

Around the table sat a group of men and women in suits. Ray Sikorsky sat in the chair at the head of the table. "I hereby call this emergency meeting of the Commission on Superhuman Activities to order," Sikorsky said. "You’ve all been briefed on the situation, correct?" Every head nodded in the affirmative. He asked, "Any recommendations?"

General Heywerth immediately blurted out, "A full military strike. Total war against these terrorists."

Ray looked over the top of his glasses at the military officer, "General, the President doesn’t want an overt military response. He has been working hard to cobble together a new understanding within Latin America and the Caribbean. The United States has a long history of military adventurism in that region that the current President is trying to downplay that ugly legacy."

General Heywerth looked alarmed. "So the United States has a policy of no military action in Latin America and the Caribbean? That will certainly restrict our response to this provocation."

Ray sighed and removed his glasses, "General, try to pay attention. I said the President doesn’t want an OVERT military action. Nothing traceable to the United States. Anyone else have an opinion on this matter?"

"Let’s use Project Wide-awake. Let our sentinel robots handle it. They can easily squash any of these cartel bugs," asserted Judge Petrie, Project Wide-awake’s founder and biggest booster.

Sikorsky responded, "Can’t do it. Same reason as before. It’s too overt. Everyone in the world knows about the Sentinels and knows they belong to the United States." Ray removed his glasses, laid them on the table and rubbed his temples with both hands.

"What about Forceworks?"

Ray tiredly looked up at General Heywerth’s question. Before he could respond, the newest Commissioner, Anne-Marie Hoag spoke. "Forceworks isn’t ready."

Heywerth glared at the plump, grandmotherly looking woman and said in a patronizing voice, "Listen Mrs. Hoag. I understand that you were a large donor to the President’s re-election campaign and he appointed you to the Commission over the protests of some of our long-standing members (including me, he thought). However, I don’t believe you have the experience to make that statement."

Sikorsky immediately jumped into the conversation, "Now just wait a damn minute. Mrs. Hoag sits on the President’s Commission on Disaster Management, on the Executive Boards of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Smithsonian Institute and Amnesty International and has ably run the Manhattan-based engineering and construction company called Damage Control, Inc. While she may not have any military experience, she has demonstrated herself to be extremely competent and absolutely qualified to be sitting on this Commission. In fact, in my opinion, she is more qualified than some of our past and current commissioners. As long as I am sitting as the acting Chairman of the Commission, ALL members will be treated with courtesy and have their viewpoints freely expressed and listened to. Do I make myself clear?"

General Heywerth, anger smoldering in his eyes, responded through clenched teeth, "Perfectly clear."

Ray turned to Mrs. Hoag, "Anne-Marie please explain your thoughts on the matter."

Hoag calmly stated, "Forceworks isn’t ready." She began to count off reasons on her fingers. "We just assigned the Project Director, Colonel Tremens, formerly of the United States Army. We just assigned the Director of Operations, Robin Chapel, formerly with Damage Control, Inc. They just moved into Freedom Force’s old compound at Fort Meade, Maryland just a short two weeks ago. A majority of their equipment hasn’t arrived yet."

General Heywerth interrupted, "Their aircraft just arrived yesterday."

Hoag responded, "Yes, but no pilots or maintenance personnel have been assigned to the unit." She continued. "My final, and most important reason for my opinion, is no operational or direct support personnel have been assigned. There is very simply, no one to send."

General Heywerth, "We can get people to send. What about the former members?"

Hoag responded, "None are available right now. Only two indicated any interest in remaining with Forceworks, Trapster and Agent 13, and they are both on leave and out of touch. We have no way of knowing where they are."

General Heywerth mused, "Well, we can find some people to send... make some calls."

Ray Sikorsky said, "Any other ideas?"

The room was silent.

"Then I don’t really see any other option than following Heywerth’s suggestion, if it can be made to work of course." Hoag, starting to protest, was cut off by Ray. "Anne-Marie, I understand your feelings, but I’m afraid there isn’t any other choice. I’m not going to call the President, who has just lost his best friend and a roomful of foreign dignitaries, and tell him we will do nothing. We’ll just have to make it work. I’m calling the vote."

Later, Ray Sikorsky is on the phone with the President of the United States.

"Yes sir, it just came in from the CIA. We have identified the terrorists as agents employed by Hector Gonzalez."

Ray listens, then responds.

"Well sir, they call him Hector the Razor. He is the President of Costa Verde. That’s right sir, it is a major money laundering and drug transshipment point in the Caribbean."

Ray listens, then responds.

"He’s basically just a murderous thug, sir."

Ray listens, then responds.

"Yes sir. We will be deploying Forceworks to exact retribution."

Ray listens, then responds.

"Within seventy-two hours, sir."

Ray hangs up the phone.

Now, we just need a Forceworks to send."

NEXT ISSUE: Whom will the Commission send? What's going on at Freedom Force's old compound at Fort Meade? What's going to happen in CostaVerde?