Next Best Thing
The fanfic that asks that literary question..."Next Best Thing?"

by Jim Smith

Chapter 3! "And now--the Qonkystadorz!"

***

My name was Dr. Karla Sofen, aka Moonstone.

It still is, of course, but I have to avoid tense shifts. Case studies are far easier to write than fan fiction, let me assure you.

Why am I...excuse me. Why _was_ I narrating this chapter? It wasn't as if the reader cared one way or the other. The reader scrolled down to make sure "Jubes" or "Remy" didn't appear in this file and went on to the next piece of flotsam on the internet. There were only two things that could have won his/her attention. One started with "X." The other rhymed with it.

Fortunately, I had written about both of them.

You see, the somewhat whiny author had decided to improve his publicity by catering to the majority, and to simultaneously thumb his nose at it by sticking me and the other Thunderbolts in it. Everyone was happy. Well, I wasn't, because most of the feedback for this story so far was about that blasted Pryde/Wisdom filler material in the last chapter. As if any lower primate couldn't have written that drivel. In the future, readers would be advised to format their reactions in the form of "Why Moonstone made this fanfic worth reading..."

Ahem. Jim said to move on. As I had been about to mention, the last chapter ended on a bit of a cliffhanger...

***

Archangel was standing off in the corner of the room, distancing himself from the rest of us while we tended to Hawkeye. He was just as concerned for our fearless leader, mind you--he just knew his place was outside of the team. So he was still standing there when I noted two of our ranks were in no shape to go crimefighting, giving Hawkeye the opening to ask Archangel to join the Thunderbolts.

Before he could answer, a few of us had expressed our support of the idea, but Charcoal wanted more. "Look, before Archangel gives us his answer," he said with all the meekness of a boy who himself only recently joined the team, "I think we need to kind of take a vote. I know some of you guys weren't real keen on me joining, and I understand why*. We shouldn't have to go through that again. I'm cool with whatever you want to do, Archangel, but if anyone isn't--"

[* Charcoal gave the team a tough fight in THUNDERBOLTS #19]

"You've got a point, kid," Hawkeye groaned. It was hard to say whether the dull pain in his voice came from having his quiver explode on his back earlier that day, or because he was being forced to admit he didn't give the rest of us any time to adjust to having a former enemy in the team. I smiled; had anyone told him he was beautiful when he was being humbled?

"OK," he continued, "everybody speak your mind, and don't be bashful."

Jolt immediately spoke up. "He worked great with us so far--and even if some people don't like mutants, he's not a wanted criminal or anything. It'd say a lot about us for a guy like him to _want_ to hang around with us."

I couldn't help but be amused. Hallie was clearly interested in Archangel for something entirely other than his reputation. The gleam in her eye had been there since he first arrived at our base, and she hadn't learned to be subtle about it yet. Despite his inhuman wings and blue skin, there was no denying he was attractive. Still, Jolt had never seemed to notice boys in all the time I'd known her, and I'd forgotten about a few certain details involved in bringing a fifteen-year-old girl into the Thunderbolts**. Much as I'd have loved watching Hawkeye squirm while giving Jolt "the talk," it was probably better left to me to cover whatever her parents hadn't before they died. She wouldn't like it much. Ever since Hallie had learned I wasn't a superhero named Meteorite who thought of her as a daughter, she'd avoided letting me worm my way back into the role of her surrogate mother. She was a fool to trust me--to love me--and she wouldn't take that chance with me again.

[** Moonstone took Jolt under her wing in T-BOLTS #4-10]

Hmmm...I lost my train of thought.

After Jolt made her opinion known, Atlas was more than willing to say his piece. He was intensely loyal--he probably wouldn't have become such a notorious criminal if he hadn't felt so obligated to serve far more dangerous people. Jolt had been the first positive influence on him in years, and his loyalty to her had made him loyal to the team she'd striven to keep together after we had turned on Baron Zemo. Atlas would have died for us--any of us--so it was important to him that he agreed with us. "He's got my vote," he declared. "Just 'cause we weren't his favorite guys didn't keep him from givin' us the benefit of the doubt, or helpin' us against Graviton. We've all had problems with each other, but we stick together, y'know? We can count on Wings the same way." Blunt, but well stated, Erik.

"I'm convinced," I said, and nothing more. I liked to keep the Thunderbolts on their toes, ever unsure about my motives and reasoning. They'd all known me for a long time now, and--even though Atlas was on the mark about us sticking together--they all knew not to trust me. It was a challenge to make sure I _could_ con them when I needed to...but I liked that challenge.

Songbird had been very quiet since we'd left San Francisco, and was slow to speak. She could tell I was staring at her, awaiting what she had to say. Her carapace had been damaged a mile or two over the bay area, leaving her to fall to hear death and watch her life pass before her eyes. What she had seen was surely a lifetime of falling in love with whomever happened to save her from her self-made plight. It was a serious issue for Melissa, to the point that she'd been sure Archangel would save her to complete her self-fulfilling prophecy. In fact, when _I_ had turned out to be the one who caught her, she fell over herself trying to talk her way out of repaying me the way she had for the men in her life.

(Did she really expect me to _want_ sexual favors from her? It made sense, really. Sex was just a tool for me to use to achieve my goals, so there was no particular reason for me to limit my use of it to heterosexuality. But it was a line I'd never had cause to cross--or even think about--and I certainly wouldn't have crossed it with Melissa.)

As I'd been saying, Songbird knew I'd caught her all but fantasizing about Archangel. She knew what I'd think if she approved of letting him on the team--that she was hoping to cheat on MACH-1 while he was in prison. And she hated me for it. That was fine with me, because I knew whenever she thought about how much she despised me, she also thought about how she owed me. Regardless of the subtext that we'd mutually disregarded, Songbird couldn't ignore the fact that I'd saved her live, and we both knew how I wanted that debt repaid. Before Hawkeye took over the Thunderbolts, the team had been trapped in an alien dimension called Kosmos, and I had killed the Kosmosian monarch in an effort to get us home. Songbird was the only current Thunderbolt who knew that, and all I had was a code of silence to make sure she didn't tell the others. Now she was obligated to me, in the most intimate way she knew how to be. It was a perfect set-up--not because I'd made absolutely sure my secret was safe, but because it had been so much fun using Songbird's own hyperactive emotions to keep her in line.

You needed to know all of that to fully appreciate the shaky sound in Songbird's voice when she said, "Same here." I knew I appreciated it.

"Then it's unanimous," Hawkeye concluded. "Angel, the spot's there if you want it. Whadd'ya say?"

He hesitated. There was a lot on Archangel's mind--I could have only guessed at what--and it seemed all of it factored heavily on his decision. But it was an simple choice nonetheless, and the stalling was the X-Man giving himself time to make sure he hadn't oversimplified it.

"I'm in," he finally replied. "And call me Warren."

***

I awoke the next morning to find the tip of a golden arrow breaking the skin of my throat. Though this was a mere trifle to one of my power, I found the brazenness of such a tactic insulting. For my adversary to think me so vulnerable that he could simply stand over my sleeping form and slay me was an affront as well as an error.

I leaped away from him and retrieved Vranphell, the ancient spear that had pierced the newborn world to create the faults that made it shift and quake with fertile instability. As chieftainess of my god-tribe, it was my right and my duty to keep it with me as I fought this battle. I thrust the long shaft at his midsection, knowing he would easily dodge but nonetheless demonstrating that I was not to be underestimated.

"Tell me something, sky-king," I asked of him.

He was intrigued by my words, and that attention made his red eyes glow as if ablaze. So entranced was I by the fiery beauty that I barely avoided his next strike. I heard his voice say +I see no cause to deny your boon, fire-mother+ as his answer, and yet his tongue was stilled at that moment. To whatever magicks he saw fit to use upon such a feat, I paid no mind.

"Each day," I said unto him, "we fight, in this manner, alone and without our respective followers. We do battle, neither of us ever gaining the slightest advantage over the other, until we both become weary and fall to the ground from exhaustion. We rarely grow so hungry that we must be distracted from our strife to seek nourishment, but when we do it is at the same moment that we both lose our strength and must replenish it with the game that wanders through this field. So evenly matched are we that you and I have lived in this manner--naught but eating, sleeping, and making war--for twenty years."

+I have borne witness to these events as clearly as you. What of it?+

"It would appear then," I continued, "that in the midst of our endless war, we have created an unbreakable peace. Perhaps we should seek not to end it, but instead to enjoy it."

+She-god, when we first met on this place, we dismissed our tribes and resolved to end our war in single combat. After five years, you said these same things as you have just spoken, and I answered, 'Perhaps you are right. I shall lay down my bow and my sword and speak more of this with you,' and I laid down my bow and my sword, and you tried to kill me. After ten years, you said these things once more, and I answered, 'Perhaps you are right. Lay down your spear and I shall speak more of this with you,' and you laid down your spear and I tried to kill you. After fifteen years, you said these things once more, and I answered, 'Perhaps you are right. Let us both lay down our arms and lay with one another, so I might sire and you might bear offspring to inherit this peace,' and we lay together and in the night we tried to strangle one another, and we have fought as such ever since. Now, after twenty years, you say these things once more.+

"And what is your answer this time," I asked the storm-sire.

+This time, earth-queen,+ he said, +My eyes have grown weary after twenty years coveting your loins, and I must answer that I am willing to lower my guard for even the faintest hope of coming to know you.+ With that, he threw his weapons away, far from where he stood, and walked towards me, so that he was close enough that I might slay him before he could evade my attack. And so I hurled my spear away and laid prostrate before him.

Thus did we mate, and in the midst of our passion I did lose control of the fire that flowed through the earth, as did he lose control of the storm that inspired the sky. So then was the wind thrown against the earth and became clouds of dust, so then did the flames reach up to meet the rain and become mists, so then did we two become one--as we had always been, but different.

***

I woke up and wondered just what the hell my subconscious was smoking. I'd been having these dreams for a while now*, but now they were getting so clear and descriptive that they were beginning to worry me. No matter how clear the details became, though, they always began to fade moments after I opened my eyes. I couldn't perform a self-analysis for something I couldn't recall, so I ignored my concerns and went on with the rest of the day.

[* We heard about them in THUNDERBOLTS #18 and #28]

Although Archangel had joined the team partly to make up for the loss of Songbird and Hawkeye from the active roster, that didn't change the fact that our team of outlaw heroes (heroic outlaws?) was stuck with a bedridden leader. The Thunderbolts couldn't have holed up for a few days until Hawkeye was well enough to lead them to another victory. Half the struggle with foes like HYDRA, Dominex, and the Masters of Evil was proving we were good little superhumans--the public would have forgotten that if we had rested on our laurels for too long. Under the circumstances, Hawkeye had made me the field commander; he made the decisions and I carried them out.

It was a position I'd become used to. Tired of, in fact. Still...I couldn't deny that I was a much better second-in-command than I was a leader. Everything ran like clockwork when I took a back seat to Baron Zemo...until the second I took over from him. My duplicity in his first team of Masters of Evil got me nothing but a broken neck.** I convinced the Thunderbolts to go behind his back against the Elements of Doom and was nearly poisoned to death.*** Even when the Thunderbolts severed its ties with Zemo and I became the natural choice to lead, the team was a disaster waiting to happen...until Hawkeye showed up.

[** As reprinted in the easy-to-find AVENGERS: UNDER SIEGE trade paperback]

[*** In the senses-shattering THUNDERBOLTS #7]

But it wasn't like me to mope. As I thought about it, I should have been putting plans into motion to gain Hawkeye's ear--run the team through him somehow. I'd been noticeably lax in my efforts to work him over, though. Certainly, his chaotic personality wasn't easy for me to read, but then neither was Zemo's orderly and well-defended psyche. I never gave up against Zemo; was I simply content with Hawkeye calling my shots? Was I going soft?

I lost my train of thought again.

During Hawkeye's convalescence, I led the team on patrols every day, with increased caution for running into--pardon the cliché--all-new, all-different enemies. It wasn't Archangel's fault, but being a mutant and a long-standing member of the X-Men had made him a target for a completely different set of foes than the rest of us. So-called "evil" mutants, anti-mutant fanatics, megalomaniacal geneticists, aliens from distant galaxies, demons from other dimensions, and dozens of old acquaintances with even older scores to settle. The rest of us wore costumes like him, and many of us were superhuman. But our tribulations were usually simple, and of our own making. Archangel had most of his problems handed to him for the same reason his wings were--he was born. That having been the case, I had given us a week, tops, before we ran into some absurd "X-Villain" with nothing better to do than harass us.

***

It actually only took three days.

"Name's Kickban, Thunderbolt!" the gaudily dressed creature rambled as his feet lunged at me. "I channel extradimensional energy through my feet--and send whatever I kick out of this plane of reality--"

I had no great interest in hearing the rest of Kickban's story, so I simply willed myself straight down, through the ground, flying at my normal cruising speed while I went out of phase with the matter around me, and shot up from beneath the idiot before he knew what hit him. The power all came from the strange, alien stone inside of me, but using that power to hit the clod below the belt was pure Karla Sofen. "Unnngh," he muttered, or something similar I couldn't spell, and fell over.

Hawkeye had spent the past few weeks drilling it into us that we needed to cover each other's backs and help one another if we wanted to function as a team. It was instinctive of me by that point to immediately scan the rest of the battle for a Thunderbolt who needed my help.

"Sorry, Serkitbraykre," Jolt was telling the cybernetic grotesquerie she was fighting, "but telling me what it is you do with your implants just makes it easier to know what to shut down!" True to her word, her bioelectricity was streaming out of her hands into what I assume were Serkitbraykre's weak spots. I reminded myself to tell Jolt she'd made the same basic mistake as the woman she was fighting--explaining how you plan to beat your enemy isn't much better than telling your enemy how to do it.

Charcoal was having no trouble whatsoever with Hyoid. I was probably the only one there who knew that the misshapen wretch had named himself after a small bone at the base of the tongue. Regardless, Charcoal's ability to assume any property of carbon--including the durability of diamond--made him completely resistant to Hyoid's bizarre power, which apparently involved his body rapidly producing and firing hyoid bones out of a small opening in his neck.

It was unfortunate Songbird wasn't there--someone needed to be asking whom these 'rooty-poos' were, to use her vernacular. I got my answer when I overheard one of them...Pronator...spewing diatribes at Atlas. "None shall defeat the Qonkystadorz, infidel!" I almost fell over laughing.

When Atlas grew to 50 feet and stepped on him until he passed out, I did.

"Moonstone?" Charcoal asked, carrying Hyoid's unconscious form over his back as he approached me. Jolt and Atlas seemed concerned as well, and that's when what hit them finally hit me. I was sitting on the ground giggling like a schoolgirl because we'd just beaten a bunch of losers in about five minutes. And while anyone else might have done the same thing, I was hardly anyone else. The worst part was, I didn't even know what had made me do it. I wondered what Archangel thought of the whole--

Archangel.

He was gone...I hadn't even noticed. We'd been on our way back from Denver, losing ourselves in the forests so no one could track us, when the Qonkystadorz ambushed us. They were the ones who'd planned this fight, so it was a safe bet Archangel's disappearance was not a good thing.

Just as I was about to fly up and reconnoiter, another Qonkystador came into view. "Defeat!" he cried. "Even after I risked my own life to lure Death himself away, we are met with defeat! Shall this ever be the fate of those who seek his favor?"

"Um...is there any reason he says 'his' like it's capitalized?" Atlas wondered aloud.

"No matter! The Qonkystadorz sought to please him by culling the weak, and so shall %vurkyll see that his will be done!" Before any of us could react, %vurkyll sprayed some sort of gas over the entire area, enveloping himself, his teammates, and the Thunderbolts. I cringed a little, recalling my trauma with the Elements of Doom, but nothing happened. %vurkyll didn't live up to his name, as he emitted a substance that somehow only killed exactly who he gunning for. All five of the Qonkystadorz--himself included--began to spasm and deteriorate, and all of them seemed...resigned, somehow, to their fate. In seconds there was nothing left of any of them but ashes.

"T-bolts!" Archangel has finally decided to let us know he was alive. I went after one of them, and I lost him right after he doubled back this way! Have you seen--what the...?"

"They're all dead, Wings," Atlas explained. "Buncha spuds tryin' to impress some bigger spud, and they couldn't do it by gettin' us...so they got themselves instead."

"They seemed to be familiar with you, Archangel," I went on. "Could they have been mutants?"

He winced. "Could _you_ be a mutant, Moonstone? Anybody can stick some machines on a woman and mess with a man's DNA and make people into these...things. Where do you get off--"

"All right, all right--I was out of line," I conceded. "They didn't have to be mutants to know you. But it's not every day someone calls one of my teammates 'death himself.' Does that mean anything to you, Warren?"

I didn't need him to answer that. His face became an even paler shade of blue, and he took a step back like he readying himself to face an insurmountable challenge instead of my question. He glared in my general direction--not so much _at_ me as much as whatever he was thinking about--and finally gave his answer.

"No. Can't say it does."

I let him have his lie. There wasn't much point in letting on how much I knew about what he was hiding from us...or how I knew. We'd both keep our secrets a little longer, but it was inevitable that we'd have to reveal...

Oh, darn. Our session's over. Another time, perhaps...

[next part]

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