Next Best Thing

by Jim Smith

Chapter Thirteen! "Devils Don't!"

***

"Welcome back to 'All Things Pondered,' and thank you for supporting American Public Radio. I'm Steven Scher, and--in case you've just joined us--we're talking this afternoon with Dennis Schoolcraft, superhero expert and author of _Shadows: Dark Side of the Marvels_. Dennis, I wonder what your opinion is about Sebastian Shaw's endorsement of the Thunderbolts?"

"Well, I certainly Shaw at face value; his Hellfire Club was attacked by a cadre of 'evil mutants' last night, and we have no reason to doubt his claims that the Thunderbolts rescued him and his guests. That's certainly consistent with reports of the Thunderbolts acting heroically since their association with Hawkeye. Then again, there were similar reports when the team was little more than a disguise, and its members were secretly the Masters of Evil..."

"But where is the master plan this time, Dennis? When they were led by Baron Zemo, the Thunderbolts manipulated New York into funding their operations and conned the U.N. into granting them security clearances. Since Zemo's defeat at the hands of the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, the team hasn't asked for anything, except a chance to prove their good intentions."

"True, but I think your earlier question may hint at their ulterior motives, Steven. Last night they won the gratitude of dozens of billionaires at the Hellfire Club's social event, not the least of whom is Sebastian Shaw. Recently, Colorado-based industrialist Edwin Cord publicly withdrew his vendetta against the team's relocation to his home state. And, of course, the Thunderbolts have been spotted on numerous occasions with Archangel--better known on Wall Street as Warren Worthington III. It's entirely possible that their primary goal is to make friends in very high places--"

"Turn it off, Hawkeye," Jolt sulked. "I'm beginning to think we could walk on water, and these guys would just say, 'Look who can't swim!'" Less than twenty-four hours after their publicized exploits in New York, the Thunderbolts were soaring cross-country in their second-hand transport, Archangel's "Champscraft." They had installed the radio to keep up with changes in the public opinion; the results hadn't been very satisfying.

Hawkeye nodded and complied with the request. "You gotta have some faith, Hallie," he smiled. As the leader of the Thunderbolts--as the superhero who'd promised to reform the world's most wanted fugitives--he had to be more optimistic than his comrades. "Back when I quit the Avengers to look for you guys--to see if you were on the up-an'-up--all I had to go by was the media. Compared with a few months ago, they're usin' kid gloves now."

"At least they've stopped talking about you all the time, boss," Atlas smirked. "I was startin' to think half of us had brainwashed you...and the other half was lookin' to kill you any day now."

"Yeah, they _never_ tell our side of the story," Charcoal mused. "How he keeps us in line by threatening to cook dinner..."

"You guys are a riot. As I was sayin', It's all a matter of picking our spots--showin' the world what we want them to know about us. Thanks to Shaw and that little arrangement I made with him, we got something out of the Hellfire Club business. But it wasn't exactly our shining hour."

Intrigued, Moonstone lifted her head from Hawkeye's shoulder. "I don't understand, Clint," she countered. "We saved innocent lives from Trevor Fitzroy. Wealthy, decadent innocents...but innocents nonetheless. I thought that's what counted."

"It does," Hawkeye conceded, "but none of those people would have been in trouble if it weren't for us. Fitzroy wasn't out to get anybody but us, and if some jerk hadn't sent those phony demons to give him the idea, everything mighta turned out fine. An' that's the kind of logic people use to oppose our mission, so settling personal scores with Archangel's old enemies doesn't get us anywhere--"

"Is that why you kicked him off the team?" It was the first time Songbird had spoken since they left New York. "How do you know the Hellfire Club went after us because of him?"

Hawkeye rubbed his forehead. He'd been trying to find the right spin on the situation since his falling out with Archangel. "I don't know, OK?" he finally answered. "But Wolverine came lookin' for him, and from what Moonstone told me, those 'Qonkystadorz' weirdos from a few weeks ago acted like they had a problem with him too."

Songbird wasn't satisfied. "So if the Zodiac showed up at our doorstep and asked for your head," she countered, "you'd expect us to give you the boot?"

Hawkeye swerved around a forest, avoiding a National Guard outpost. "Look, Melissa--all of you--I know you guys like Angel. I like him too, and I've known him longer than any of you. But this was the first time I've worked with the guy, up close, and it wasn't working out. He doesn't stick to the plan, because when he was in the X-Men--or the Champions or whoever else--he could count on his buddies to know when he had to improvise. Heck, I did that in the Avengers all the time!

"But we're _not_ the Avengers, or any of those other teams. You guys aren't nearly as experienced--at bein' heroes or workin' together--and you follow my lead because you have to. If Archangel screws things up so you _can't_, someone could get killed, and none of us signed up for that." The archer took a deep breath after he finished his speech, and felt his age as he released a long sigh. If the Avengers could see their hothead now, he thought, giving sermons like Captain America himself.

The Thunderbolts more or less nodded in understanding of their leader's decision. Songbird, for her part, offered no rebuttal. The young woman crossed her arms and sank back in her seat, angry that she couldn't fault Hawkeye's reasoning. Archangel had left her open to attack when he disappeared into the crowd at the Hellfire Club; she certainly wasn't going to make excuses for him. What really nagged at her was the way he flew away without even trying to explain his actions--or the kiss he'd given her before this mess had started. As the Colorado Rockies loomed over the horizon, Melissa discovered that she wanted nothing more than for Warren to come back...and hold her...

"Whoa, Hawk..." Atlas leaned forward from his seat, pointing directly at the mountain ahead of them. The Thunderbolts' base, hidden deep within Mount Charteris, was his concern. "Check out the hangar--somethin's wrong..."

Hawkeye focused his gaze on the approaching mountain, and confirmed Atlas's fears. All entrances and exits to the base were camouflaged with holographic facades, and the hangar was indeed properly concealed. But the illusionary mountainside looked...unconvincing. The other Thunderbolts couldn't discern the cause, but with his years of training as a marksman, Hawkeye was capable of living up to his name. "You're right, Atlas--the doors must be wide open. That distortion effect's gotta be the runway lights are shinin' right through the entrance and into the hologram."

Each of them felt knots in their stomachs as they realized the implication of Hawkeye's conclusion. Only Moonstone had the clinical detachment to say what everyone was thinking. "Someone's broken into our headquarters."

"It sure ain't the Avon Lady," Hawkeye replied. "We've got a reception committee waitin' for us to come through the front door, gang--so I say we go 'round back!"

***

The sky began to burn as the sun set behind the Rocky Mountains, casting dense, black shadows over the eastern foothills of Mount Charteris. The cool thin air gravitated Songbird, Atlas, and Jolt around Charcoal's smoldering graphite frame. Nearby, Hawkeye carefully manipulated the circuitry hidden behind a patch of moss, his eyes guided by the cold glow of Moonstone's alien energies. He was careful not to damage the security systems he sought to bypass, since he had set them up himself. The Thunderbolts had usurped their mountain headquarters from the Crimson Cowl; her alarms in this entrance had proven...inadequate.

"This doesn't make sense," Moonstone observed. "When we first came here to fight the Cowl's Masters of Evil, this was the first passageway we discovered--the easiest to find. The Masters never noticed, and we probably wouldn't have either, if our 'guests' had done the same thing."

Hawkeye twisted his fingers in knots, rewiring the tangle of electronics in his hands. "I get your drift, Karla," he answered. "They picked the entrance we were sure to see, and didn't even try to cover their tracks. It's like they're giving us an engraved invitation to their ambush." With one last flip of a switch, Clint Barton looked up to see the hidden doors lurch away from one another. "There we go...let's not keep our playmates waiting, team..."

Light was scant inside the long tunnel leading to the main facility. Their enemy had crippled the main generator, and although the reasons were unclear, the effect was stark. Mount Charteris was the Thunderbolts' home--for some of them, the only home they had known in years--but now, viewed by the flicker of the emergency lights, it was foreboding and cold to them. The criminals they had once been would have shrugged off such conditions, accustomed to scurrying from the law into whatever dank hole they could find. As novice heroes, however, they had depended on this place as their sanctuary, and seeing it like this was...almost intimidating.

Like a herd threatened by predators, they kept the youngest near the center of their march into the base. Ordinarily, Jolt could be counted upon to protest, and demand that she and Charcoal be treated as adults. Not this evening. "Who do you think's up to this, Charlie?" she whispered to her friend.

Charcoal mulled over the question. The Thunderbolts had many enemies--he'd even been counted among them, briefly--but Atlas's late-night stories about HYDRA, the Elements of Doom, and the Courts of Kosmos didn't fit this scenario. He only had one answer, although he hated to say it. "The Imperial Forces," he answered, referring to the quasi-military organization he had once worked for. "They've gotta know I ditched them to join the T-bolts, and this is their style. They can't beat us head-to-head, so they're demoralizing us first...making us sneak into our own home..."

Hallie Takahama nodded, but made no reply. It helped to know what Charcoal was afraid of, because it pushed her own fears aside. Still, she had fought the Imperial Forces, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine them lurking in the darkness ahead. All she could do was compare the eerie surroundings with the castle where the "bio-fanatic" Arnim Zola performed vile experiments on her, unlocking her genetic potential, torturing her until she escaped with the powers he gave her. Zola was a scientist, not a brawler, and knew better than to seek revenge against powerful foes like the Thunderbolts. Still, like some monster under a child's bed, he was Jolt's most logical explanation for anything that went bump in the night.

At last the gloom came to an end, and the Thunderbolts discovered an open area in which main power was still operational. Now the base was beginning to feel like home again; even the air felt fresher as they basked in the familiar light. Atlas, however, did not allow himself to unwind. Free of the more restricted space in the tunnel, he willed his body to grow until he was ten feet tall, and surveyed the area. "This ain't right," he said aloud. A high school drop-out and an army wash-out, he only knew as much about electronics as he could learn from experience and common sense. It was enough, though, for him to guess that if this room was connected to the power grid, then the back entrance they'd come through should have been fully lit as well. "They're playin' more mindgames with us," he concluded.

Moonstone, the former psychiatrist of the team, silently concurred. The team's enemy wanted them on edge and off balance. Here everything was as it should have been. The Thunderbolts were relaxing, lowering their guard. Why would the intruders want their guard up, then down? Her analytical mind raced: Terrorize the subject to provoke fight-or-flight response. Reduce critical thinking. Pacify the subject to diminish anxiety. Subject overestimates relative safety. Subject vulnerable to attack--

Jolt dropped to her knees, and vomited. It was too late.

Chyme splattered to the floor, creating noise that twisted in the Thunderbolts' ears, until the act of recognizing the sound made them dizzy. The walls melted into metallic wax, and changed in size and location. Their senses assaulted them, and they belatedly realized that the lights had been left on in this room to heighten the effect. One by one they fell, clutching their eyes, bellies, or heads in pain. The Thunderbolts were defeated.

Except for Songbird. A lifetime ago she had been hired to sabotage a secret government project, and had been given cybernetic implants to aid in her mission. As Screaming Mimi, she had used those bionics in her larynx to stun opponents with a shriek. The technology also protected her from her own power, or even similar attacks such as this one. As her teammates fell around her, she searched for the source of the assault and screamed. The bionics had been redesigned when she joined the Thunderbolts, and now channeled Songbird's voice into an external carapace, transforming the sound into an energy field that struck her adversary.

With their foe subdued, the Thunderbolts quickly regained their faculties, and approached Songbird as she examined her handiwork. "I thought so," she concluded. "I've met this chippie before."

"Care to--unnh..." Hawkeye rubbed his temples, shaking off the effect. "Care to clue us in, Melissa?"

"A few years ago some nut named Superia invited a bunch of female super-villains to an ocean cruise. You were there, Moonstone--she wanted to destroy men, or something stupid like that?" She tried to recall more details, but shrugged and stayed on the subject. "Anyway, while I was mingling, I met this woman and had a nice little chat about how we were immune to each other's powers. Too bad for her that my powers have changed. She called herself...uh...Reverb? Verboten? Vertigo...?"

Moonstone recoiled at the name. "Hawkeye, we have to get out of here..."

She was interrupted by an explosion right between her shoulder blades. Moonstone was hurled into the others, knocking the Thunderbolts back down to the ground. This time Hawkeye was the first to react, immediately flipping back onto his feet and--in one swift, practiced motion--drawing both his longbow and a grenade arrow. Fully recovered from Vertigo's attack, he instantly pinpointed the source of the blast--an empty, unexplored doorway--and fired.

Another shot hit the arrow head-on, destroying it precisely midway between the Thunderbolts and the gunman. From the smoke and ash of the explosion, a figure emerged, toting a hastily assembled rifle. "'Fraid you're not goin' anywhere, Thunderbolts," he informed them coldly. "The name's Scalphunter. Only reason you're not dead yet is because this way is more fun." With a wave of Scalphunter's hand, three more men entered the room--each one with a bloodlust in his eyes. "Let me spell it for you, folks. You've been targeted by the best...by the Marauders. Which means none of you are leavin' this mountain alive."

The Thunderbolts glared back at Scalphunter in silence. Hawkeye finally held up his hand, extending his index and middle fingers. "Don't talk us to death, ladies," he grinned.

The Marauders smiled back, eager to make the bowman eat his words. The white-haired man to Scalphunter's right leapt toward the Thunderbolts, throwing blades all around them. Riptide would have delighted in flaying the skin off their bones, but for the moment he wasn't aiming directly at his victims. Scalphunter had a plan, and once Songbird erected a solid-sound bubble to protect her team, that plan was in effect.

While Riptide had been corralling the Thunderbolts, Harpoon had been charging a metal spear with his mutant energy. He hurled the gleaming shaft straight at Songbird, knowing it would never pierce her defenses. Instead the harpoon collided with the field, crackling as it disrupted the sonic energy. The feedback raced into Songbird's carapace--into her nervous system--and sent her staggering to the floor.

As their defenses fell, Scalphunter enjoyed the look of shock in the Thunderbolts' eyes, and quickly disassembled the rifle he'd used to injure Moonstone. Each component was placed in a specific location on his costume; another set of components was then taken from elsewhere on his body. In less time than it would take to describe, Scalphunter had a different weapon, and the same terrible prowess to murder with it. Atlas took point, preparing to shield his comrades from the impending gunfire. Just like clockwork, the Marauder thought. Scalphunter fired into the giant's chest, knowing his automatic rifle would never harm Atlas. It would keep him busy, though.

By now the Thunderbolts were taking the offensive. Riptide was fast, but Hawkeye had dealt with quicker in his time. Super-speedsters were all egotistical, and it was simply a matter of using their confidence against them. After letting Riptide dodge a couple of hasty shots, the archer hesitated with his next shaft. Like Pavlov's dog, Riptide fell for the pattern, and made the same evasive maneuvers--all Hawkeye had to do was aim for where he knew the Marauder would be. Struck by a stunner arrow, Riptide collapsed unconscious.

Meanwhile, Charcoal was proving to be a challenge for Harpoon. The Inuit assassin was skilled in combat with his electrified harpoons, but that skill was useless against a monster composed of pure, nonconductive carbon. "Give it up, Nanook," the altered teenager smiled. "You picked the wrong partner in this da--ANHHHH!"

Flames burst from Charcoal's glowing eyes, and his fingers transformed uncontrollably into diamond. It was as if the transformation from human to coal was going terribly wrong. More precisely, his powers were being scrambled by the fifth of the Marauders. The merest touch from Scrambler would keep Charcoal off his feet for several minutes--a defenseless eternity under the circumstances.

"Leave 'im alone, you--!" Scrambler and Harpoon hadn't counted on Jolt, or her genetically enhanced speed and strength. One minute she was behind them, the next she was delivering a hard right across Harpoon's jaw. Before she could shift her balance to confront the other Marauder, however, Scrambler's hand was clamped tightly around her forearm.

"Silly girl," the Korean laughed. "All Scrambler has to do is touch you, and BANG--your powers turn on you! Shoulda paid more attention...huh?" At most, Scrambler expected to upset Jolt's superhuman metabolism and leave her writhing in pain. It never occurred to him that he'd cause her skin to crackle with bioelectric energy until he felt a tingle in his hand. Tetany crawled up his arm, preventing him from releasing his grip. A second later and it was over--each combatant fell to the ground, felled by one another's powers.

That was Scalphunter's cue. The moment the last of his team was down, he backed out of the doorway behind him, still firing impotently into Atlas's chest. By the time the sounds of gunfire had ceased, the leader of the Marauders had disappeared back into the darkness from which he had come. The last Atlas could see of him was that stone-faced expression--an assured, emotionless look that fully expected victory. Still, it was the Thunderbolts who had held their position, and Scalphunter who had retreated. "Guess we showed them, huh?" Atlas remarked as he turned around.

Five minutes. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since they'd encountered the Marauders, and the Thunderbolts had been devastated. Only Hawkeye and Atlas remained unscathed, while the others could barely stand. "Aw geez," the giant marveled, "I shoulda...I mean..."

Hawkeye dismissed his friend's regrets. "Ain't your fault, Erik--they had you on defense. Had you--they had all of us right where they wanted us." He scooped Moonstone up into his arms and began to carry her away. "Get the others--we gotta get to the infirmary..."

Atlas nodded and easily cradled Songbird, Jolt, and Charcoal into his massive arms. "What about the Marauders?" he asked.

Hawkeye turned to survey the area. Vertigo, Harpoon, Scrambler, and Riptide remained on the floor, where Scalphunter had abandoned them. The smart thing to do was to restrain them--imprison them--but he could feel the sticky warmth of Moonstone's blood against his skin. She and the others needed medical attention fast. "Leave 'em," he finally grumbled, and headed for the nearest corridor. There was simply no time to ensure that Scalphunter couldn't return later to retrieve his troops. And that, most likely, had been Scalphunter's plan from the beginning.

"Right where they want us," Hawkeye muttered to no one in particular.

***

"I'm fine, Clint...really." Moonstone jumped off the examination table to demonstrate her good health. "The gem in my body prevents most injuries, but when I do get hurt I recuperate quickly. You should be trying to bring Hallie around...ask her if she knows who these people are..."

"I _know_ who they are," Hawkeye snapped. "The Beast and Thor both filed some Avengers paperwork on these jokers--said they tried to exterminate the mutants who live underneath Manhattan. Problem is, ol' Sonuvodin's not real big on bureaucracy, and Beastie-boy was kinda tight-lipped about the whole thing. Us Assemblin' types always figured it was because the X-Men took these Marauders pretty personally. Now I'm startin' to see why."

Charcoal was testing his powers, shifting from human form and back, as he spoke up. "You think they're after Archangel?"

"Could be, kid," Hawkeye replied, "but they sure didn't stop to ask where he was. For all we know, they're pissed off about something the T-bolts did as the Masters of Evil, or something I did when _I_ was a crook." The Thunderbolts' leader moved to the table where Songbird lay. "How you doin', S.B.? Think you can give me a diagram of the base?"

A few cc's of adrenaline had been coursing through her system for several minutes, and Songbird was finally stirring. "I'm okay..." she mumbled weakly, and then amended her statement. "I've been worse, anyway." She took a deep breath and channeled her voice into her carapace, shaping the sound into a three-dimensional map of Mount Chaeteris's interior. The edges of the image were blurry, as if denoting unexplored mists where "there be dragons."

"We fought them here," Charcoal offered, and plunged his finger into the map. "Scalphunter went this way--"

"Ow--hands of the merchandise!" Songbird yelped. "After that electric spear, my nerves are a little too fried for fingers."

Moonstone examined the diagram. "He's headed up...and the generators are on his way. From there he can see where we're using lights, or just seal us in a room--cut off life support until we suffocate."

"That's assuming he can think of as many ways to kill us as you can, Karla," Songbird huffed.

"It doesn't matter if you _like_ a clinical assessment of our weaknesses," Moonstone shot back. "The point is that the Marauders have already used the power supply against us once, and we have to assume they'll do it again." She looked to Hawkeye, addressing him frankly. "We're not safe here."

"We're not safe anywhere," Hawkeye countered, "and we can't just leave these guys to run amok in our base while we tuck tail and run." He pored over Songbird's schematic, looking for an angle. "There. The commons area is too wide open for us to get boxed in, and our quarters provide plenty of places for us to fall back. We'll make our stand there, and when Mulletman gets tired of waiting for us to walk into his trap, he'll..."

"Grey Crow's too smart for that."

They were the first words Erik Josten had uttered since bringing his teammates to the infirmary, and they quickly captured the Thunderbolts' attention. Charcoal ended the ensuing silence. "You _know_ these guys, Atlas?"

The giant shook his head. "I never met 'em, Charlie, but I was a mercenary a long time before I became a super-guy. Back when I was with Baron Zemo's private army, they use'ta tell stories about a sharpshooter who called himself 'Grey Crow.' Now, your everyday merc is just in it for the money, an' he's learned to stop givin' a damn how he earns it. But Grey Crow enjoyed killing...I dunno, for the sport of it. One time I asked why Zemo never recruited him, if he was so badass, and the guys decided Zemo must've been afraid of him. Legend has it he just vanished a few years ago..."

"And now he's"--Moonstone stopped short of affirming Atlas's fears--"...you _suspect_ that he's Scalphunter."

"Yeah," Atlas trailed off. "Maybe. I don't guess it matters. All I'm sayin' is that I feel like I'm in one of those stories the guys used to tell down by the Amazon, about Grey Crow stalkin' his target like an animal, and my overgrown guts are twisted up about it. These guys are _good_, an' if we think we can outsmart Grey Crow by headin' for the commons, then you can bet that's where he wants us to go."

They looked to one another, searching for a solution. "I could plant a few chunks of carbon around the base," Charcoal offered, "maybe I'd get a sense of their location..."

Hawkeye stared off into space, as if waiting for the divine inspiration he needed to save his team. "No," he finally declared. "Dammit, even if we figure out the rules, we're still just playin' the Marauders' game. We gotta stop second-guessin' ourselves and go with our gut. And _my_ gut says we gotta hit these yahoos head-on. They want us in the commons? Then let's make 'em sorry they wanted it. Karla, get Jolt on her feet...and then we're callin' the Marauders out."

***

There once was a woman named Dallas Riordan, who had been very important to the Thunderbolts. Assigned to be their liaison to New York City, she quickly became a trusted friend, in spite of the fact that they used her in their scheme to defraud the world. And then, after she learned of their deception, she despised them, never truly believing that they never meant to hurt her...that her relationship with them had been nothing more than "collateral damage." Atlas still had a picture of Dallas--a constant reminder of the Thunderbolts' shame, and his lost love.

Scalphunter didn't care about any of this when he removed the picture from Atlas's quarters. "Easy on the eyes," he muttered as he examined the photo. "Maybe we should do her next."

He was in the commons--the central area which connected each of the Thunderbolts' quarters--lounging in Moonstone's chair and checking out Atlas's ex-girlfriend. He'd ransacked his enemies' rooms to enrage them, but the experience had proven more interesting than that. This, he considered, was where they lived, relaxed, and experienced other aspects of life that Scalphunter had forgotten long ago.

He took a sip of some lemonade he'd discovered in their kitchen, and found the taste...almost exotic. Grey Crow had spent most of the past decade on assignments or in stasis, never finding time to enjoy such simple pleasures. A normal mercenary might have envied the Thunderbolts, and questioned the decisions that had led him to a shallow life of little more than killing. Scalphunter's mind, however, was hard-wired to dismiss such concerns. As he rolled the lemonade on his tongue, he idly wondered what it would be like to despair for his humanity.

"Did you squeeze this yourself?" he called out into the darkness beyond the commons.

The gleam of an adamantium arrowhead emerged from the entryway, trembling in Hawkeye's steel grip. "Had to use that powdered mix," the marksman spat back. "You know how it is--kinda hard to buy fresh produce when you're a fugitive..."

Scalphunter smiled, raising his glass. "But you always find a way to make do," he nodded sagely.

"Shut up." Hawkeye approached the assassin slowly, his aim never wavering from Scalphunter's chest. Once he and the other Thunderbolts had their man surrounded, he spoke again. "You're gonna tell me who sent you here, and why."

"You don't have the balls to kill me."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, and nudged his arrowhead underneath one of the interchangeable parts on Scalphunter's chest. "I won't _need_ to kill you after I puncture your lung. But before I haul your ass to the hospital, I want answers."

"Answers?" Scalphunter smiled under his thick mustache. "You want answers--ask your Maker after he scrapes you off the ground." Another swig of lemonade. "'Swhat I generally do."

Jolt shifted her wait nervously, impatient to attack. "He knows we've got him, Hawkeye, or he wouldn't be talking so much," she observed. "Let's just finish this before Eli Whitney here builds another Red Ryder BB gun..."

That was when Hawkeye caught his mistake. Jolt spoke for the whole team; they were all eager to take the advantage presented to them. The advantage that Scalphunter had let them find...that he wanted them to see...

Hawkeye had underestimated the Marauders for the final time.

The commons began to rumble, as though an earthquake had begun inside Mount Charteris. The Thunderbolts were exhausted and unprepared; they succumbed to the forces and fell to the floor. Before they could recover their footing, a tall woman in silver leaped into the room. With one punch Arclight shattered half of Charcoal's granular face.

Atlas knew Charcoal would survive such wounds in his carbon form, but wasn't in a hurry to learn how much damage the boy could endure. He grew to fifteen feet in height, and palmed the Marauder's head like a cantaloupe. With dwindling concern for his enemies' lives, he slung Arclight over his shoulder and across the room, pausing to watch her crash into Songbird's quarters with a sickening thump.

But more Marauders were crawling out of the proverbial woodwork, and Arclight's diversion had created an opening for them to renew their assault. A crystalline being came into view, firing low-level energy pulses at Hawkeye, Jolt, and Songbird. "Please, my friends," he announced, "allow me the courtesy of remaining alive until I've introduced myself! My name is Prism, and I simply must show you what it is a prism does!"

"Must you now?" Moonstone failed to notice that she had escaped Prism's onslaught for a reason. Darting through the air, she trained both of her arms at the Marauder, releasing volleys of laser fire. "I seem to remember getting a prism for my eighth birthday, and all it did was get broken. Easily."

Prism's glass features melted into a smile as he absorbed the light. "Then let me illuminate you, my dear! Taste the rainbow of fruit pain!" He started to glow and change color, and finally reflected Moonstone's firepower back towards her.

A split-second before she could be incinerated, Moonstone phased her body into an immaterial state. Prism had outsmarted her--she could only defeat him by shattering his fragile body, but she could only survive by remaining intangible. "Atlas!" she called to him as he tended to the fallen Thunderbolts Hit this one--hard! I'll help the others!"

Atlas's response was interrupted by a kidney punch that brought him to his knees. "Been waitin' for this, chucklehead" his assailant gloated. "Heard you Thunderdopes had a big powerhouse, but you're just a joke compared to the power of Blockbuster!"

Standing at six-foot-six, Blockbuster was dwarfed by the titanic frame of Atlas. That didn't stop him from hammering the giant with his thick, sinewy fists. Atlas could feel his ribs bruising as the brute taunted him. "How you like it, turkey? You like that!? The boss said you pussies used to be the Masters of Evil--you ain't _nothin'_ to Blockbuster! You wanna hear how I almost dusted Thor, bitch?"

While Prism and Blockbuster dealt with Moonstone and Atlas, Scalphunter was patiently assembling another weapon, surrounded by wounded targets. "Marauders two, Thunderbolts zip," he scoffed at the prone form of Hawkeye. "Just goes to show you, hero man--you run around with 'super villains' and think you've gotten your hands dirty. Well, there's layers of scum you never even seen, and by the time you get a good look, you're starin' up at it from six feet under." His lips curled into a snarl as he leveled his rifle at the archer's head. "I'd see you in hell, hero, but I got banned for life--"

Before he could fire, Scalphunter lost motor control over his trigger finger. He'd grown accustomed to getting the better of the Thunderbolts, and cursed himself for taking his prey too lightly. The bioelectric surge running through him was a painful reminder that Jolt didn't stay stunned as long as most humans. "Hawkeye! Songbird!" the girl cried. "You've gotta wake up! We've got 'em outnumbered--we can still win!"

"That's where yer wrong, frail." Jolt felt something clamp around the back of her neck, and released her grip on Scalphunter. She squirmed to face her new enemy, but found herself being raised into the air. Smooth, sharp fingernails were pressing against her throat without breaking the skin, in a perversely graceful display. "Even if you _did_ manage to take us out, girlie," she heard the attacker say, "nobody really wins against the Marauders!"

He flung Jolt over his shoulder like a wad of trash, forcing Moonstone to re-solidify her mass in order to catch the girl. Even as she saved her teammate, Karla Sofen could only look down at the new arrival in shock. "Sabretooth..." she mumbled. "Why would he bring back--"

The question died on her lips. Something detonated behind her, knocking Moonstone and Jolt back to the ground. She briefly debated whether Scalphunter had shot her or if Harpoon had rejoined the battle, but dismissed the issue. Charcoal was struggling to reassemble his head, Atlas was taking a pounding, Songbird and Hawkeye were still reeling. The Thunderbolts were virtually beaten. It was only a matter of time before the Marauders stopped playing with them and started killing them. They had to regroup. Withdraw. Escape.

Hide.

"Songbird!" Moonstone yelled. "Cover me!" She slung Jolt over her back and lunged into the air, hoping Songbird was lucid enough to comply. A sonic sledgehammer answered her prayers when it intercepted Arclight's attempt to grab her ankle. Jolt held onto her for dear life as they flew past Charcoal, and towed him away.

For her part, Songbird was raising havoc with her solid-sound objects, but she was still too weak to withstand the feedback when those objects struck anything. She bore the pain, however, to keep Scalphunter, Prism, and Sabretooth away from Hawkeye as she advanced towards her leader. She was inches away from pulling him to safety, when another explosion went off in front of her face. "Karla, I can't get to him--!"

Moonstone fought the urge to panic. So much was happening, so much was depending on her, so much was at stake. She had to save Hawkeye--she loved him, didn't she? Not even 24 hours ago she risked her life for him, in New York. But could she risk the Thunderbolts lives...risk everything Hawkeye had worked for? She knew what he'd do...but she also knew what he'd tell her to do.

With one last burst of speed, Moonstone evaded the Marauders, picked up Songbird, and dived headlong toward Atlas. Blockbuster saw her coming, with three Thunderbolts along for the ride, and stepped back. As far as he knew, she was trying to goad him, but all she was really interested in was making physical contact with her teammate. The moment she slammed into Atlas--the moment all of the others were touching her--she phased. She and the other Thunderbolts instantly loss their mass, but the inertia of Moonstone's dive drove them into the floor. They were gone, leaving no evidence of their escape or their destination.

Sabretooth leapt to the spot on the floor where they'd vanished, and sniffed at the remaining pools of Atlas's blood. "Hff," he growled. "Buncha candy-asses."

"Creed's right," Arclight huffed. "What should we do now, Scalp? Finish off the Avenger?"

"The boss wants 'em all done, darlin'." Scalphunter pulled Hawkeye's limp body up by the tunic. "I'm thinking we leave him alive...see if they're dumb enough to come back for him."

Prism circled the bowman, casually pulling the arrows from his quiver. "Enlighten me," he said, "why would they do something as brilliant as that?"

Hawkeye began to lift his head and responded. "Because...they're not hired goons like...you bastards. They're not in it for themselves...in it for each other..."

"You must forgive the Marauders..." Hawkeye could hear a voice behind him--not the driven, hostile tone of a Marauder, but more cool and collected. "They were never exactly functional members of society, and they've been genetically modified to eliminate whatever traces of...humanity they had to begin with."

"Wait...you..." Hawkeye struggled in the Marauders' grip, trying to get a look at the speaker--the man who'd orchestrated this siege. "I know that accent...why'd you come pick a fight with us? Archangel...?"

"Archangel is the least of my concerns. It's the Thunderbolts I want--that's why I prevented your lovely companions from taking you with them. They'll come back for you, and they'll have to throw down without their fearless leader." The Marauders' "boss" moved to face his captive, smiling as the Thunderbolt recognized him. "Looks like the Marauders be holdin' all the cards, no?"

Hawkeye could do nothing but stare as Gambit laughed in his face...

[next part]

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