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| Nomad 2099UG Issue #2 "Arrival" Written by Travis DeVore |
| The 2099 Underground is a project whereby a group of fans are putting together a series of stories continuing from Marvel's fantastic futuristic 2099! Ignoring the ignoble and inaccurate "2099: World of Tomorrow", we're exploring what we feel is the true spirit of 2099 as envisioned by then Editor-in-Chief Joey Cavalieri. Participation is open to all. Comments about this issue should be sent to the author. Or you can visit our message board and post your thoughts on the issue. Anyone wishing to join the mailing list should do so by signing up at Yahoo! Groups. It's free and easy! Simply type in the keyword "Ghostworks" and you're good to go. |
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| As Jack walked into the small town, a feeling of deja vu came over him. He knows he's never been in this town before, but he's seen a hundred just like it. Although it's now seventy years later, things like the middle of nowhere towns never change. "God, I must have walked through a thousand of these the first time around," Jack thinks. "Don't these people ever get tired of the isolation and just leave? Then again, the isolation is what probably brought them here in the first place." Jack drops the backpack he's been carrying in his hand and looks around. The usual small town icons are in place. At the entrance to the town stands a sign, bigger than the town itself, proclaiming this spot "Truth or Consequences, New Mexico." Only the name of the town is left, so any merits of the town that might have been on the sign are long gone. A few yards from the sign, is a gas station with a man and a dog sleeping out front. Just past it is a line a stores beginning with the town's general store with two men playing some game. Across from the store is another line of stores with the obligatory bar/hotel. Farther down, is a trailer park with about ten hookups and only two trailers. Throughout the tiny town, abandoned cars are left like some giant child tired of playing and deserted them. The few people outside ignore Jack. If Giscard had never told him, Jack would have sworn it was still the twentieth century. "Well, if any town was ever a more appropriate place for me to make my return, then I guess this town is it. I might as well check out the hotel." Hefting the pack over his shoulder, Jack heads for the bar/hotel. Since his back is to the gas station, he fails to notice the old man and dog take a sudden interest in him. Jack walks into the dark main room of the bar. At first the room looks vacant, until Jack's eyes adjust and he can make out the few people sitting at the tables scattered around the room. Off to Jack's left is a bar. The bartender, a short bald man, is at one end of the bar laughing and talking to a couple of ladies. A man who could pass for Grizzly Adams and a tall, skinny man are at the back of the room, playing a game of pool. The skinny guy, the only person in the room to acknowledge Jack's existence, looks up for a second, then goes back to the game. Jack walks over to the bar and asks the bartender, "How much for a room?" "Ten creds a night," responds the man, without looking at Jack. "What the hell is a cred?", Jack thinks, "Giscard said that money was still in use. See if I can bluff my way to a room." "Ten creds, huh? See, here's the problem" Jack begins to say. "Yeah, you can work it off. I need an extra hand tonight at the bar. You can pour beers, can't ya?" Before Jack can answer, the man continues, "Room's at the top of the stairs, to the left. Do good work tonight, and you can have it for a couple of days." The man throws a key at Jack, then returns to his conversation with the ladies at the bar. Jack catches the key, grabs his bag and heads for the room. As Jack climbs the stairs, except the two men playing pool, all eyes turn in his direction. After a few minutes of fiddling with the door, Jack drops the bag on the floor and collapses on the bed. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Somewhere in the world: Trying to keep the loose-fitting armor from making noise, the man settles down in the corner, watching the shadows for any movement. "Shockin' woman. This wasn't the good time I had in mind. I just need to find the exit and . . . " The man freezes in mid-thought when he hears the noise again. TCK-TCK. TCK-TCK. The man stops breathing for a second, listening for further noises. Hearing nothing, the man relaxes back against the wall again. Suddenly, before the man knows it's happening, something drops down on top of him. The creature punctures the man's lungs, preventing him from screaming. It then methodically continues to rip the man to shreds. In a matter of moments, the creature finishes its ghastly task, then returns to the shadows. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There is an impenetrable silence as the couple watch as the creature disappears into the shadows. As the image slowly fades, a smile creeps across the man's face. The woman just sits and stares at the dead monitor. Finally, the man turns to the woman and says, "Remind me to thank Graeme." "Yes, sir," is the only thing the woman says. "Now, we must attend to some business. How's the situation in Latveria?" "Proceeding as planned, sir. One of our informants within the gypsy camps has disappeared, but we suspect he may have defected. Do you want our agents to bring him in when we find him?" "Not just yet. Let him get involved with the organization then we'll bring him in for 'debriefing.' Anything else?" The woman runs down a list of various insurrections, assassinations, and various sundry items. Midway through the meeting a short, slim man enters the room, stands behind the couple and waits. Neither man nor woman looks at him, or even acknowledges his presence. The woman finishes the list, then sits back in the chair. The little man continues to stand silently behind the couple until the man in the chair says, "I assume you have something important, Morey?" Morey stares at the man a moment, then nods his head saying, "Yes, sir. I do, sir. It's about . . . him, sir. He's left the cave, sir. We lost him while he crossed the desert. Our operatives picked him up again when he entered the town. They reported that he entered the bar and got a room. He hasn't left it since. Do you want me to send a team to retrieve him? Sir?" "No. No, I think we'll wait. The operatives in place should be sufficient to handle him. However, give number 1773 a provoke command. Let's see if Mr. Monroe still has some fight in him." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'm running to . . . from?...something. No, I'm definitely running from something. Bucky's in my arms but when I look down, she's not there. Whatever is chasing me is getting closer but when I look back, nothing, just a pounding noise. I run faster but it keeps getting closer. Tripped on something and-- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hey, buddy. You alive in there? The bartender sent me up here to get ya." Reality slowly shifts back into focus. Jack gets up and shambles over and opens the door. "Oh my god, it's Grizzly Adams," Jack thinks. The man that had been banging on the door occupies most of the doorway, as well as the hallway. The face is a mess of red hair, the hands the size of dinner plates. Jack wonders why the door didn't beg for mercy and fall over. "The 'tender sent me up here to get ya. Says he needs ya in 'bout an hour. The washroom's at the end of the hall there," the mountain man explains, pointing off to the right. "Thanks. Tell him I'll be down there shortly." The mountain man shrugs and turns around, going back down the stairs. Jack shuts the door and walks over to his bag. Since he's been wearing the same clothing he left the cave with, he grabs his towel and a new suit and heads for the bathroom to wash up. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An hour later, after cleaning up and another quick nap, Jack walks back downstairs. Aside from a few extra people, the room looks much the same as before. The mountain and the lanky man are still playing pool. Though there are a few more people at the bar and tables, the room sounds like a library. The bartender waves Jack over. "Guess its time for you to earn your room. In a few minutes, Petey McGill is gonna be bringing his brother, Skeech, in here for a surprise party. I need you to waiter and kind of "bounce" any troublemakers. This bunch will probably order nothing but drinks." The bartender points to a small machine that looks like a scale sitting under the bar. "This here's the Chip 3000. Just tell it what you want and it'll fix it for ya. Go on, try it." Jack looks at the machine skeptically for a second, then says, "Gin and tonic." A small glob of light forms over the top of the machine, then coalesces into a drink glass containing a liquid. "Well, ain't you gonna taste it?" the bartender taunts. Jack grabs the glass and chugs the liquid. "More of a margarita man myself, but not bad," Jack says, setting the glass back on the machine. After a few seconds the glass dissolves back into a glob of light. "Don't know what I did before I got this machine. Came all the way from Las Vegas itself. Fellas over there said it would be the investment of a lifetime," the bartender says pointing to the pair playing pool. "By the way, the name's Willie." "Jack." "Okay, Jack. Why don't you check on the drinks? Petey should be here anytime." Jack circulates through the crowd, taking orders and trying to get acquainted with everyone. Except for the pair at the pool table, now identified as Bob and Earl, Jack is barely acknowledged. Petey McGill and his brother, Skeech, arrive and the party really shifts into neutral. A few patrons congratulate Skeech, a few more drinks are ordered, but to Jack at least, the atmosphere never takes on a party feeling. "Hard to imagine but I guess the party gene was bred out of these people," Jack thinks," or this is how they party in 2065. I might go back to the cave and sleep until 2099 or something." The mountain, Bob, waves Jack over to the pool table. "Yeah. What can I get you guys?" Jack asks. "How about some old-fashioned conversation," Bob replies. "Won't talk to you guys either? Then it's not my aftershave. Wondered why the two of you were playing so much pool." "Been here since last night and they haven't even so much as asked us our names. 'Cept for the bartender. He's talked to us. Well, me that is, since Earl doesn't talk much," Bob says. Earl ignores them, intent on lining up his shot. "So what are you guys still doing here?" "Oh, Earl heard on the Weathernet that there was a nasty ion storm west of here, so . . . " Bob trails off looking back at the table for any open shots. Bob takes his shot then turns back to Jack. "So as soon as it clears, we're gonna head back to Vegas." "Vegas, huh? Mind if I tag along. I need to meet some people there for a job and my last ride stranded me out in the desert." Bob looks at Earl for a second, Earl shrugs his shoulders and Bob says, "Yeah, why not. Could use an extra pair of hands." "What is it you guys do?" Before Bob can answer, an argument breaks out behind them. Glancing over, Jack sees the man of the hour, Skeech, and some other guy that Jack hasn't met yet waving and pointing their hands. Oddly, no one, not even Willie, looks up at the ensuing confrontation, but Jack is too engrossed to notice. The other man yells, "And I'm telling you that the netbowl game was fixed. The Gbpacks would never have lost to the Dbroncs. I mean, Bret Farv was MVP for three years in a row. What the shock has Jhn Lwy done?" "I'll tell you what he's done," screams Skeech. "He was throwin' shotgun passes when Farv was suckin' his thumb. I'm tireda talkin' to ya. Let's ask someone to settle this." Skeech looks around the room, then points at Jack. "There, we'll ask the new guy. Will you please settle this?" Jack walks over to the pair. "What can I do for you?" "My poor delusional friend here says the Gbpacks should have won the netbowl yesterday. I say it wouldn't happen if Lwy only had one arm. So, we need someone to settle it." The conversations in the room stop and all eyes turn to Jack. Bob and Earl stop playing to watch. "Who the hell is Bret Farv?" Jack thinks. "It sounds like their talking about football. So, maybe the Green Bay Packers and Denver Broncos. Well, before I "left," neither team was much to speak about. I know Elway had a hell of an arm though." "Well, what's it gonna be?" Skeech's partner, an above average typical redneck, asks. "I was always a Steeler fan myself but I would have to go with the Dbroncs." "What!" the redneck screams. "Didja even download the game to your netware?" the man points at the earring in Jack's ear. "Netware? This is just an earring." "Just an earring? Hear that boys, he's not even hooked up to the newslinks." A few of the patrons start laughing. "I bet he's one of them "No Net" freaks. His clothes look like one of those stupid Fuji outfits. What the hell is that thing supposed to be on your chest? Your name?" The man starts laughing and poking Jack in his left shoulder. Suddenly, Jack grabs the man's wrist, applies just enough pressure, and gives it a quarter twist. The man just stares and silently screams. "No, it's just an earring. The outfit was a gift. And I don't know what the symbol means. And I don't care. You've had enough to drink. Time to go home." Jack escorts the guy through the room, out the door and shoves him onto the porch. "Go sleep it off." The man stands there for a second, then leaps at Jack. Jack pivots and uses the momentum to throw him the rest of the way off the porch, then turns to go back in the building. Redneck bolts back to the porch, grabs Jack by the hair, and slams him into one of the porch railings. Then he hoists him over his head and throws him out in the street. Bob, Earl, Willie and a few of the people from inside have wandered out to watch the fight. "I can't believe I got myself into a bar fight. Cap would be proud," Jack thinks. Redneck looks around and sees an old pipe lying nearby. He starts to pick it up, when something hits it knocking it under the porch. Redneck stares at the ground, confused. "If you're wondering what happened, I did it. See this little disc here?" Jack says, waving a small yellow disc in his right hand. "These little beauties were another one of my gifts from my friend. I know you might not understand the technical terms, so I'll make it simple. I throw it, it hits you, you fall down, end of fight. Now what's it going to be?" Redneck just stands there for a second, then starts charging toward Jack. Seeing no other alternative Jack throws the disc, aiming for the guy's right shoulder. Unfortunately, Red tries to dodge it, misjudges, and it hits him just above his temple. "Damn it. I didn't want to kill the guy. Just knock him-"Jack doesn't finish the thought. Red sits back up and looks straight at Jack. The skin is gone where the disc hit him exposing a shiny metal plate. Red raises his hands and points at Jack. "Target acquired. Designate: Nomad. Objective: Terminate." |