MV1 #3 FEBRUARY Year 1

by Jason Kenney

A Tale Of Marvel Volume One by Jason S. Kenney

"I'll be damned!  Front page twice in one week!" said Max with a congratulatory slap on the back.

I was grinning from ear to ear while enjoying a complimentary beer down at Jack's, a little corner bar where a few of us freelancers hang out.  Everyone was coming by my seat with congratulations.

I had out scooped the entire journalistic community with the "HEROES RETURN!" headline on today's Bugle.  No one else was there for the Avenger's battle with the Zodiac.  Everyone else was chasing the rumored Captain America return over at the Brooklyn Heights Costume shop.  But, they didn't see anything in action, and they definitely didn't have any photos, both of which I had of my event.

That's what I'd come to look at it as, MY event.  It was put there for me, handed to me on a silver platter, no one else, only me.

Pop's shadow still loomed, but I could see the edge now, and I was getting closer to it every day.

I was explaining the story for the fifth time tonight to a couple of giggly, obviously drunk girls in the club.  Max wanted to go celebrate my front page story.  He also never failed to tell every girl that walked by who I was and what I'd done.  They all reacted the same, "Oh, wow!  You know the Avengers?  Does Cap look as good in person as he does in the papers?  You ever ridden in the quinjet?"  They all reacted the same way when they found out I didn't really KNOW the Avengers.  That's why it was still just Max and me, lounging at the bar by the time I was halfway through with my story.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this, Max," I said as I drank the beer I had in hand.

"Come on, Josh," shouted Max over the music, "admit it, you're having fun!"

"Fun?"  I cocked an eyebrow as I looked at Max.  He just laughed, took a swig of his beer and set it on the bar.

"Well, sir," said Max as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders, "if you're not going to be going anywhere, I might as well start doing my thing."  And he wandered out onto into the dancing crowd.

"Go get 'em," I said to no one in particular as I started to take another swig.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her.  When I turned, I got the full effect.  Waiting there patiently for the tender to serve her was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  She leaned slightly on the bar, the little light in the room bouncing off and highlighting her curves.  I shook my head and came back to my senses, realizing I was staring a little too long.

I turned back to my beer as she started to turn towards me.  I took a swig, every now and then taking a look out of the corner of my eye.  I looked down at the other end of the bar to see the tender just standing there, probably flirting.  Couldn't really blame him.

"Who do you gotta screw to get a drink 'round here?" a female voice said to me, bringing my attention around 180.  There she was, right next to me, again leaning on the counter.

"From the looks of it," I said, nodding over my shoulder at the bartender again, "him."

She cocked her head a bit, looking down at him.

"Not worth it," she said, looking back at me.  She smiled, and man-oh-man, what a smile it was.  I smiled back.  "Niki Bradshaw," she said, extending her hand to me.

"Josh Anderson," I said, shifting the beer from one hand to the other and shaking her hand.  Her grasp was light and gentle, something I expected from a woman that looked like she did.

"Josh Anderson?" she said as we let go of the shake and she ran her hand through her hair.  "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"I'm a reporter," I said, as I turned toward the bar like she was, but still keeping my look on her.

"That's it!" she said with a snap of her fingers and resting a hand slightly on my arm.  The touch was gentle, yet oh so lovely.  "I heard your name on TV.  You wrote about the Avengers, right?"

"Yes, mam," I said, taking another look toward the bartender.  I set my beer on the counter and pushed it to the further edge, hoping he'd notice it.

"Wow," she said, starting to sound like all the others.

No, I thought, don't be like them.  For the love of God . . .

"I've always liked journalism," she said.  My whole body gave a sigh of relief.  "I almost went into it myself."

"Really?"  I turned a bit to better face her after realizing I wasn't getting any results with the bartender.  "What do you do?"

"I teach," she said, cocking her head again to look at the tender.

I shifted a bit and reached into my back pocket and fished out my wallet, pulling a five out and setting it under my beer so it hung off the counter a bit.  Niki looked at me curiously.

"I'm testing a theory," I said as I pulled a ten out of my wallet, which I then put back in my back pocket.

"Theory?"

"I'm betting his favorite color's green," I said, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder, pointing to the bartender.  "So, what do you teach?" I asked, trying to keep in conversation with her.

"First grade," she said as she glanced over my shoulder again, "at an elementary school down in Jersey."  She smiled and looked back at me.  "Well, professor, looks like your theory was correct."

I looked over my shoulder just to catch the tender right next to us.

"What'll it be, folks?" he said as he lifted the beer bottle with one hand to throw it away and slipped the ten bucks in his pocket with the other.

I nodded to Niki and she ordered something to drink.  I wasn't paying attention to what.  I actually stopped paying attention after I heard her ask for two of the drink.

Why would she need two? . . .

Damn, I said to myself as a guy came up behind Niki and put his arm around her.  She smiled form ear to ear, oh, that smile, and gave him a kiss.

Damn.

I collapsed onto the couch after stumbling into my apartment.  I wasn't that wasted, but I was drunk.  I was more tired than anything.

"Mr. Anderson."

I jumped from the couch, almost wetting myself at the sound of the voice in my apartment.

"Who the hell . . ."

"Mr. Anderson, who I am is unimportant."

I looked around and noticed five men, all in some uniform, all surrounding the room.

"What do you want?" I said, trying to get my bearings straight, hoping this was all just some bad dream and I'd wake up any moment now.

"Mr. Anderson, Nicholas Fury was never at your grandfather's funeral."

"What?" I said, smirking a bit, something I wouldn't have done if I was completely sober and awake.

"Nicholas Fury was never there, no one there ever saw him, you did not see him."

"Like hell I didn't . . ."

"Mr. Anderson," said the man, taking a step towards me, "Nicholas Fury is dead, has been dead for quite sometime.  He was never there."

"But, I saw . . ."

"No one and nothing, Mr. Anderson.  It is in your best interest to remember that Nicholas Fury is dead."

I stood there for a moment, trying to register what was going on.  Who were these guys?  SHIELD?  Someone else?

Suddenly, my had shot up to my neck where I felt a slight prick.

"Goodnight, Mr. Anderson . . ."

I passed out.

"Rough night?"

I just smirked as I settled into the chair Robbie Robertson had gestured to.

"Josh, I'll get to the point.  We really like the work we've gotten from you."

"Thanks, Robbie," I said, rubbing the still sore spot on my neck from what I guessed to be a dart of some sort.

"We're wondering if you'd like to come on to the Bugle more long term."

"What?" I said, now giving Robbie my full attention.  "You mean, staff?"

"We've got an opening for a staff reporter for around town here and you were the first person we thought to ask.  The pay is a little less per article than if you freelanced, but you're guaranteed more articles, so you'd get more money in the end."

"Money comes with tenure," I said with a wave of my hand, "I don't really care about the cash."

"So, we have a deal?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, standing up and shaking Robbie's hand.  "We've got a deal."

Notes and Such:

I didn't steal any events from any other books this month.  This is just a character development issue for me.  I'm sorry it took me 2 months to get this out, but I've been quite busy and in a huge writer's block.

Thanks to everyone who wrote in about the last issue.  Hope this lives up to some standard.

And, my very first awarding of a No-Prize goes on out to the one and only Ralph Angelo for pointing out my use of Fury last issue was a flaw.  You see, Fury's still dead.  Yep, he doesn't some back in MV1 until Year 5, so I'm a little early on his re-appearance.  Hope that didn't take away from the story last ish, and I hope I can cover my tracks well enough.  I'll probably go into the whole thing and really finish fixing things in the next couple issues.

Real quick, I want to do a quick plug and send you folks on over to Marvel Premiere.  Read the Ka-Zar arc!  I'm not sure the issue numbers (#85-88 - Branch Editor Randy), but they're fairly recent and by Jason Snyder.  Good readin'!  Hey, have I ever steered you all wrong before?

So, hopefully I'll be back in 30 or less with a whole new Saga for ya.  Thanks for reading.

Jason Kenney
5.25.99