CHAMPIONS # 42

MV1 November Year Four

Timelost - Conclusion
"Adjustments"

by Russ Anderson, with plot-assist by Barry Reese

In Case You're Just Joining Us: With the Champions lost in the timestream, former Batroc Brigaders Zaran and Machete form an all-new, all-different team of Champions. The new team battles the cosmically-aware anarchist Mondo Kane in downtown Phoenix... and loses miserably, while a mysterious Russian man watches from the shadows. Meanwhile, the old Champions get some help getting home from future versions of Greg Wallander and Cassie Lang.

"Incredible," Machete said.

"That's one way of putting it," Nightman agreed.

The two young men - one the son of a dead assassin, the other a castaway from an alternate dimension - stood in the backyard of their large Phoenix, Arizona home, and watched hundreds of gallons of water geysering twenty feet into the air from a gaping wound in the lawn. Half a dozen Collie puppies, each of them with three yapping heads atop their necks, danced around the fountain, nipping at each other playfully.

"This is getting out of hand," Nightman said after a moment.

"Should we tell Zaran?"

"I'm not sure how we can avoid it. Unless I miss my guess, the puppies have severed a main water line. Even if Zaran misses the new fountain in the backyard, he'll know something's up the next time he tries to take a shower."

Machete sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not going to take it well."

"No doubt," Nightman agreed.

"Those animals are destroying our home. You know they actually tried to bury Guinea Pig yesterday? Like a bone. The poor kid was buried up to his neck out here in the backyard for over an hour. Maybe we should think about... I hate to even suggest this, but... maybe we should..."

"Put the puppies to sleep," Nightman finished for him, staring at him from behind his mirrored sunglasses. The man wasn't wearing his costume, or the mask with that spooky red eye on one side, but his stare could still give Machete shivers.

"You're right," Machete nodded. "Dumb idea. Do you want to tell Zaran, or should I?"

"I'll do it," Nightman replied, turning back toward the house. "You call the water company and have them shut off our service for a few hours until we can get that fixed."

Johnny Domingo - known as Nightman when he was wearing his funny blue tights - moved through the glass arcadia doors and into the house's rear den. Cassie Lang was sitting on the carpet with Guinea Pig, both of them absorbed in a snowboarding game on the Playstation. The woman and New Champion whom Johnny knew only as the Emasculator lounged on the couch in civilian clothes that were just as sheer as her crime-fighting gear. She was looking through the doors out onto the backyard as Johnny entered.

"Have you thought about what we're going to do about those little terrors?" she demanded.

"Sure I have," he replied, "but I'm fresh out of ideas. What do you think?"

"We could keep them in kennels," she suggested.

"Unless you can buy adamantium kennels at Wal-Mart now, they'd destroy whatever container we put them in. Their father is the guardian of Hades, remember."

There was a shriek from deeper in the house - from upstairs, where the bedrooms were - and Nightman sighed. "Looks like I won't have to bother telling Zaran."

A moment later, Zaran came tearing into the den, wearing only a scowl and the black leather pants of his costume. "Did you see what those little beasts have done??"

"Hey!" Cassie barked, hitting pause on the video game and turning toward the team's fuming leader. "Don't call them beasts!"

Zaran gaped at her, then turned to Johnny. "Did you see what those little... mutts... have done?"

"Hey!" Cassie called out.

"They are mutts!" Zaran insisted, like a petulant child. "You can't argue with that!"

"Yes I saw," Johnny answered, "but really, Zaran, there's no reason to-"

There was an enormous FWA-CHOW from the next room - the kitchen - and a burst of light that blinded everyone in the den.

"Oh God," Zaran moaned, "what now? Things were never this insane when I was in Batroc's Brigade..."

Nightman was already moving past him. When he reached the doorway to the kitchen, he paused, his eyes going wide.

"Who are they?" Emasculator demanded, shoving in close behind him.

Lying in a tangled heap on the tile of the kitchen floor were six people and one three-headed, gray-skinned dog. They looked like they had been dropped there unceremoniously by a passing giant, but that wasn't even close to the most notable thing about them. The most notable thing was that they were the Champions. The real ones--Black Widow, Hercules, Flash, Diamondback, Firebird, Batroc the Leaper, and Cerberus.

The second most notable thing was that they were all as naked as the day they were born.

"Mon dieu!" Batroc cried from the top of the heap. "I am ekzpozed!" He bounded away from the pile of flesh, using Hercules' back as a launching pad, and cleared the distance to the doorway in one jump. The crowd at the entrance parted and he continued out of the room and down the hallway to the stairs.

Nightman glanced at Emasculator. "Didn't we move all the stuff out of his room and your stuff into it?"

"Yes, why do you a-"

"Mon dieu!" came echoing down the stairs again. "Where deed all zese knives come from?"

"Hercules," the Black Widow said dryly from somewhere near the top of the pile, "if you don't move your hand, you're going to lose it."

"My apologies, friend Natasha."

"Would you guys please get off!" Diamondback called.

"We're trying. Everybody just... stop moving for a second."

"My," Emasculator purred from the doorway, her eyebrows wagging up, "that Hercules certainly is... god-like, isn't he?"

"Hold on. Everybody stay calm," Barry Allen - the Flash - said. He was at the very bottom of the pile but, with a thought, he vibrated out from underneath his teammates, moving his molecules at just the right rate to slip between their own. Nightman and Emasculator felt a light breeze brush by them, and suddenly the rest of the Champions were on their feet, the human members each wrapped in a blanket from the hall linen closet.

"Now," the Flash said, cinching a towel tight around his waist and glancing from his teammates to the people gathered at the door, "somebody want to tell me who these strangers in our home are?"

"I think a more important question is why that Wallander guy didn't tell us time travel was going to cost us our clothes,"* Diamondback muttered.

(* Greg Wallander forgot to mention that little tidbit before sending the team home at the beginning of last issue - Russ)

"We don't even know if we made it to the right time," the Widow interrupted, managing to look dignified in the old quilt she was wearing. Her eyes went to the doorway. "This is going to seem like a strange question, but... what's the date?"

Hercules pointed at the grouping of New Champions. "Hold, I recognize yon intruder. Zaran, is it not?"

Zaran waved meekly from the back of the group, wondering if he was somehow in trouble. "That's me. Me and Machete... well, we formed a new Champions team while you were gone."

"I see..." The Widow was quiet for a moment. "How long have we been gone, then?"

"You went to fight the Masters of Evil a little over a month ago. No one has seen you since."

"A month?" Firebird cried.

"More like six weeks," Zaran shrugged.

"But we were gone a matter of days!"

"Hey guys!"

The New Champions crowded in the doorway parted to reveal a grinning 10 year-old girl. Cassie Lang rushed into the kitchen and embraced the Black Widow, then let her eyes skip over all of them. Slowly, her smile faded, and when she looked up into Natasha Romanov's face, there was uncertainty and a little bit of fear in her eyes.

"What... what happened to my dad?"

Cassie Lang was still sitting in the livingroom hours later, playing her video games. The rest of the Champions, new and old, had dispersed to deal with their own problems - some to inform family and friends that they were alive and well, some to brood on whether they wanted to stay. Cassie was alone when Guinea Pig wandered into the room and sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry about your dad," he said. She hadn't looked at him when he'd entered, and didn't do so now. Her fingers simply flew over the controller, her young jaw set with determination.

"My dad's dead too," he offered. She still didn't take the bait. Sighing, he looked toward the TV screen, where one cartoonish boxer was beating up another. He wasn't sure, but he guessed Cassie's character was the one winning.

"Do you think they'll let me stay?" he asked, deciding to change the subject. "I'm-I'm a minor, and my mom doesn't know where I am... not that I think she'd care or anything, but she doesn't know and the law probably says I have to live with her but geez I mean the Champions are superheroes y'know so I think I'd be better off here than in some trailer park..."

He paused, blinking in surprise as another thought occurred to him. "Do you think they'll let you stay?"

He looked at her again. Her jaw was still set, her fingers still flying, but now a single tear was rolling down her left cheek. Guinea Pig watched this for a moment, with something like terror and something else like relief, then, just as the tear was about to drop off her chin, he scooted over and put an arm around the young girl's shoulders. She allowed her head to drop back against his collarbone, but continued determinedly playing the game.

"When did your daddy die?" she asked.

"When I was younger than you. Seven or eight, I guess."

Cassie was silent for a time. "What's your name?"

"Guinea Pig. You know that."

"No stupid, your real name."

"Oh, that... Brandon."

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks."

Silence.

"Do you have a little sister, Brandon?"

"No."

"Do you want one?"

Guinea Pig smiled and squeezed her shoulder. Cassie kept on playing.

"Do you think I'm a moron, Allen?"

Barry Allen blinked in surprise. "Wh-well, no, Chief. I-"

Police Chief Everett suddenly sprang up from his desk, stormed over to his office door, slammed it shut, and stormed back.

"Six weeks ago, I get a call from Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. He tells me you're a friend of his and you've just moved to town, and though there are some issues with your work record - as in, it's nonexistent - he'd appreciate it if I'd hire you on to the crime lab. I'm still recovering from this, when I get a call from Captain America - Captain-friggin'-America! - and he gives me the same spiel. You know what that means, Allen?"

"I've got a lot of important friends?" Barry asked.

"Too damn many! I told you when I hired you that I knew you were one of them costumed vigilantes. That's the only explanation. Now, I have no proof, and I want to do right by Stark and Cap, so I hired you. But part of the deal was that you couldn't be sloppy, you couldn't get caught being a lawless vigilante, because it would ruin this department and probably get every damn perp we've locked up since the day you were hired thrown back out onto the street. And now you come in here - after disappearing for a month - and I'm supposed to believe that cockamamie 'I got lost in the mountains during a hiking trip' story?"

Barry was speechless. His brain worked infinitely faster than the average human being's, but he had no idea what to say.

"You're sloppy, Allen. And you've got to stop treating me like an idiot. I don't want to know what you do after-hours or what color your funny pajamas are, but if you want to continue to work here, you're going to need better excuses than that! Something I can tell the duty sergeant that won't make his head explode, maybe!"

Barry was silent for a minute while Everett continued to bore holes in him with his eyes. Finally, he looked up and said, in a very small voice, "How about this: I was kidnapped by a team of bionic apes with banana-themed weaponry, and held hostage for over a month until the Champions came and rescued me."

Everett's jaw worked, and for a second Barry thought he was going to explode again. But then his face split open in a wide grin.

"Now you're talking, Allen..."

"When you are a villain, you don't want to lose," Zaran said.

"No," Batroc agreed. "I remembair zat much, at leazt."

"But at the same time," Zaran continued, "there's a part of you that knows that - if you do lose, and the people in white hats cart you off to the big house again - you know that... well, I guess you kind of know you deserve it."

"Er... if you zay zo, mon ami."

"But when you're a hero," Zaran said, breathing the word with awe, "when you're a hero and you lose, you don't deserve it. You don't deserve to get thrown off a building by a crazy anarchist with bad hair."

Batroc looked across at his old friend and teammate. The two of them were perched atop the shingled roof of the Champions headquarters, enjoying the sunset and two beers. "Eet eez not eazy, zis 'going-ztraight' business, eez eet?"

"Mondo Kane destroyed my team, Batroc. My team. And I was unconscious for most of it. If Nightman hadn't been smart enough to stay out of Kane's reach until he left, both Emasculator and Machete would have died."

"Perhapz you were zimply not meant to be ze hero, zen? Perhapz you were meant to go enjoy your life on zome tropical island zomewhere, zurrounded by hundreds of bukzom hula girls..."

"Perhaps..."

Batroc took another drink. "I am not one for introzpection, Zaran. Nor am I the zharpest cookie in ze barrel" - Zaran gave him a puzzled look at that - "but eet zeems to me you muzt azk yourzelf whethair you want your son to follow in your footzteps, or whethair you want heem to lead a happiair life zan you have."

Zaran nearly spit his beer out. "My son? What are you talking about?"

Batroc gave him a 'don't-be-stupid' look and turned away. "Do not play me for a fool, Zaran. Ze new Machete lookz much more like you than he does ze old Machete. And I know zere was a time you bought new boots every weekend juzt so you could knock zem with Machete's woman."

"My God..."

"Ze boy does not know, does he?"

"No."

"It zeems you 'ave much to conzider zan."

"So it would seem..."

The two of them fell silent as the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon.

"By Zeus, woman, I say thee nay!"

"Hercules, please just listen to reason for a moment..."

"What reason is there in what you suggest, fair Bonita? What reason exists in stealing that which makes a man a man?"

"What's going on here?" Diamondback asked cautiously, peeking into the kitchen. She was wearing a baggy sweater and Dockers. "Hercules, you're about to bring the house down with all that yelling."

"Rachel!" Bonita Juarez - Firebird - exclaimed. "Thank goodness you're here. Somebody who will see reason."

"What is it?"

"The woman has gone mad, friend Rachel! She seeks to rip the very loins from our comrade!"

"Uh... come again?"

Bonita rolled her eyes and scooped an open phone book off the kitchen table. "You've seen the damage the puppies have done, Rachel. It's a standard procedure, and I don't see what all the fuss is about."

Rachel took the book, pushing a strand of brown hair over one ear, and looked at the ad Bonita was pointing to.

"I think I understand... you want to get Cerberus fixed?"

"'Fixed'!" Hercules exclaimed. "Our comrade would be anything but 'fixed', young one!"

"And the puppies," Firebird confirmed.

"'Tis treachery, by the Gods! I say--"

"That's enough, Hercules."

Herc stopped in mid-rant as Natasha entered the room. She was in full costume and followed closely by Nightman, Batroc, Zaran, Machete, and Guinea Pig. "Where's Barry?"

"He left about 45 minutes ago to make sure he still had a job," Firebird answered immediately. When everyone turned to look at her, the Hispanic girl went about fifteen shades of red and dropped her eyes to the floor. "I mean, I passed him as he was leaving, and he just... happened to mention it to me..."

"What about Emasculator?"

Guinea Pig raised one fuzzy gloved hand in the air, as if he were in class. "Uh, ma'am, Emasculator packed her things and left shortly after you guys got back this morning."

Zaran turned sharply. "Left? Why?"

"Uh... well, all she said was that she wanted to find a team with... uh, with 'stronger and better-looking men,' sir."

"Oy," Zaran sighed, putting one hand to his forehead. Batroc slapped him chummily on the back.

"Eet eez no cause for worry, mon ami! As you can see, ze Champions already hav more zan zeir share of lovely ladies. And much friendliair ones at zat." He waggled an eyebrow at Diamondback, who scowled back.

"Okay, fine, we'll just have to do this without them. Everybody have a seat. We've got some things to discuss." The Widow waited a moment while everyone found a chair or a spot leaning up against the kitchen counter. This wasn't quite the meeting hall the Avengers had... but what about the Champions was like the Avengers?

"The first order of business - really the only order of business for now - is to figure out who is staying and who is going. I see no reason to put a cap on the number of members we have, but I think you'll all agree twelve is too many... yes, Zaran, what is it?"

Zaran lowered his hand and cleared his throat. "Machete and I will be going," he announced, at which point Machete whirled around in surprise. Zaran simply nodded at him and turned back to the Widow. "We stayed as long as we were needed to forge a new team in your absence, but I see no reason for us to stay any longer."

"We appreciate all your work in keeping the team alive, Zaran," the Widow said. "And you'll always be welcome here."

"I appreciate that very much."

"Anyone else?"

Everyone was still for a moment, looking quietly from one to the other.

"Okay, then," Natasha said after a pause. "Looks like we can-"

"Wait."

The Widow looked toward Diamondback. "Rachel?" she said in disbelief.

Rachel Leighton, mainstay of this incarnation of the Champions since the beginning, was sitting slumped over in her chair, one hand raised in the air. Slowly, she lowered it.

"I need to take some leave, 'Tasha," she said. "We all just lost six weeks of our lives and... well, I'd really like to spend some time getting my head together."

"Are you sure?" Natasha pressed. She'd entered this meeting with an open mind about who would stay and go, but she supposed part of her had just assumed only the newbies would opt to leave.

"As sure as I can be," Rachel smiled. "Hey, this isn't 'goodbye-for-good', just 'see ya later'."

"Where will you go?" Firebird asked.

Rachel shrugged. "Back to NY, I guess. Wherever the wind takes me, more likely."

"I'll be going too," Nightman announced. "Phoenix isn't really my home in any case. I'd like to stay on call as a reservist though..." he looked around uncertainly, "if you have such a thing, I mean."

Natasha laughed. "We do now, Nightman. You're the first."

"I will stay," Hercules rumbled from his corner. "Ne'er hath the Son of Zeus enjoyed the company of a band of mortals so... not even amongst the Mighty Avengers."

"I'm staying as well," Firebird added.

"I think we can count on Cerberus not going anywhere," the Widow mused. "What about you, Batroc?"

"Az if you could geet reed of me!" he scoffed. "Eet's my house!"

"And you, child?" the Widow asked, turning toward Guinea Pig.

"I'd... I'd like to stay, ma'am," he replied.

"Fine." Natasha looked around the room. Not bad. This hadn't been as much work as she'd worried it might be. "So the roster is: myself, Hercules, Firebird, Cerberus, Batroc, Guinea Pig, and-"

"Sorry I'm late," the Flash said, appearing suddenly behind Bonita's chair alongside a gust of wind. "What did I miss?"

"And the Flash," Natasha finished with a grin.

Elsewhere...

The woman pushed through the vibrational barrier separating the time citadel from the world she needed at all costs to reach. She'd never tried such a feat before--Norrin could have done it with ease, but Norrin had always been the best and the brightest of them, at least until the very end--but necessity bred resolve, and resolve bred results. There was a temporal boom, shaking her right down to the fundamental forces that held her cosmically-powered body together, and she was through.

She took a moment to look around the sector of space she'd appeared in. Earth was far, far away, but at least she'd landed in the right galaxy. For the first time, she considered the possibility that she might actually have a chance against her pursuers.

But she didn't waste time pondering that possibility. Instead, she opened the first of several hyperspace portals she would need to get to Earth, and pushed her exhausted body through it.

Plasma was coming. And the God of Time was close behind.

Next Issue: You think these guys are going to let Diamondback go without a going-away party? Fat chance. The celebration turns deadly for the Black Widow though, and the Flash and Firebird team up to intercept Plasma. Also, the return of Aeon!

And one more thing before we get into this issue's single letter: I need a lettercol name here (I hate calling the afterword section "Author's Notes"... blah). I'm gonna take a cue from Jason Snyder and offer anyone who can give me a good title the chance to die horribly in a future issue. I'll try to make it as funny as possible...

Now onto the following review, posted to the MV1Talk list by Sam Everett, writer of TRIATHLON and MARVEL FANFARE:

CHAMPIONS #41, by Russ Anderson/Barry Reese
http://www.dreamwater.net/gansler/avengers/champions.htm

It's hard not to review an issue of CHAMPIONS without mentioning the title's virtual founder, Mark Beaulieu. That's because Barry Reese, and now Russ Anderson, are worthy of comparison to Baloo's CHAMPS. This isn't the absurd, humorous, slapstick take on that other west coast team that Baloo perfected. It's something...else. Almost like tongue-in-cheek sci-fi/adventure. Definitely cool.

But that absurd quality can still be found in the New Champions, a team of Zaran, Machete, and a few new recruits (the Emasculator? Guinea Pig?!), who manage to drink too much in their inaugural celebration. It's great because everyone is in on the joke...except the New Champions.

From the Credit-Where-Credit's-Due Dept.: The roster of the New Champions was entirely Barry's doing. He left it open so I could do what I liked, but I thought the team he'd put together was suitably ridiculous, and so I went with it.

I haven't read much of Russ's other MV1 work. I've just never been able to get into SILVER SURFER or CLOAK AND DAGGER. But in the author's notes, Russ says he's trying to change his melodramatic approach with CHAMPIONS. If #41 is any indication, he's succeeding. This ish is too funny!

You have no idea what a relief it is to hear that...

Still, it's not just cornball humor. I want to know what's going to happen with the New Champions. I'm genuinely interested in the new, havoc-wreaking villain introduced this issue. I'm wondering what the future Greg Wallander didn't tell the Champions. Between the humor and the various storylines, there's so much to keep a reader coming back for the next issue!

That thing Greg neglected to mention was covered at the beginning of this issue. As for Mondo Kane, he'll be back sometime in the next couple issues, and will figure prominently into #50.

What I Didn't Like:

Nothing I can really think of. I wouldn't change a thing. The creators may change, but CHAMPIONS continues to be a must-read!

Sam Everett

Thanks much for the kind words, Sam. You're a gentleman and a scholar, no matter what that rat Snyder says. :-)

Russ Anderson
15 February 2001