Written by Barry Reese
"We Give Thanks...."
Wednesday, November 24th 1999. Brazil.
Lance Cpl. Antonio Cordova felt sweat run down his spine as he trudged through the Rain Forest. It was hot, even with the armor's cooling unit working overtime. He wished that he were back home, a cold beer in his hand and a big, juicy Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Maybe next year. This year, gotta save the world... I wonder what the hell all these Spider Aliens are doing in South America, though. First, we hear that Turok is taking on these guys in Columbia, then Rand gets kidnapped and now we're tracking the critters here in the Rain Forest....
"Look sharp, people. We've got bugs at 3 o'clock." The strong, confident voice of Rand Bannion drew everyone out of their respective reveries. Bannion was the leader of this mission -- and deservedly so. Decorated multiple times for valor, he was a fearless soldier and the proud owner of an xo-manowar class armor. The alien battlesuit was one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy and had served as the inspiration for the weapons systems employed by the rest of the men and women known collectively as the Armorines.
The trained assault force took their positions quickly and efficiently. Down below, Cordova could see that Bannion was right on target -- a small group of 'bugs' were on the move. The Spider Aliens were fierce fighters, extraterrestrials who regarded humans as little more than a usual foodstuff. Cordova hated them.
The Armorines waited until their prey were within striking distance. Over their helmet communicators, they heard Bannion giving the order to strike. "Take these things down with extreme prejudice, men. I'll take the leader myself -- we may need him for questioning."
Cordova poised himself to leap below, when a sound behind him caught his attention. He whirled about, just in time to see a Dromak soldier opening fire on the Armorines. "Incoming! Incoming!"
The blast tore through Smith's shoulder before the rookie could even begin to defend himself. A gaping hole dripped blood and gore onto the jungle floor. Down below, the Spider Aliens jerked their gaze upwards at the sound of battle. Spotting the Armorines, the alien soldiers raised their own weapons.
The jungle became a raging inferno of violence. The Armorines found themselves assaulted on both sides, barely able to stand their ground. Cordova found himself back-to-back with Bannion, both of them firing their ion cannons in a desperate attempt to drive away their enemies. The body of one Armorine lay at their feet.
Cordova shouted over the din, "What's a Dromak doing here, sir?"
"Beats the hell outta me! We'd heard rumors that the Spider Aliens were building themselves back up to maximum threat level, but we had no idea it was through an alliance with another alien species!"
Cordova aimed at an approaching Dromak. Massively built creatures, the Dromak were a slate gray in color with a bony ridge above their brow. In hand-to-hand combat, they could tear a man's head off. Cordova fired off a full volley at the Dromak, slicing a hole through his skull. A whining alarm signaled that his armor was now close to empty, however. "We've gotta pull back. This is a massacre -- and they probably have more on the way!"
Bannion nodded. He hated running from a fight, especially since in his eyes there was no such thing as an unwinnable battle. Still, he knew his men were in danger -- and Rand Bannion always protected his soldiers. Reaching down, he picked up the rookie named Smith and ordered over the radio. "Cordova and Watkins, lay down some coverage fire. Everyone else, go to the West Camp. Don't look back. Go, Go, Go!"
Bannion launched himself into the air, his x-o manowar class armor bearing him aloft. Smith felt light on his shoulder. I have to get better with this suit. Dacia could have taken them all -- I don't understand why my bond with the armor isn't equal to his. I've merged with it! Why won't it give itself to me fully?
Bannion aided Cordova and Watkins in occupying the aliens, slowly allowing their comrades the chance to flee. Once they were clear, Rand fired once more with his ion cannon before following his men to safety. We'll be back, Bugs -- and we're going to find out what's so damned important to you here.
Down below, one of the larger Dromak soldiers holstered his weapon. He stared off after the fleeing figure, a grim smile on his face. <Another xo armor. Interesting*.>
<*Translated from the Dromak language.>
A Spider Alien approached, hissing. <It is the human we told you about. Bannion*. He is merged with the armor. Only by his death will the object be ours once more.>
(*Bannion was briefly held as a prisoner by the Spider Aliens, as seen in X-O Manowar # 75-76.)
The Dromak shrugged. <Perhaps it is no longer of importance. Once we sought the armor as well -- but if this bears fruit, all of creation shall be at the hands of ourselves and our allies.> The Dromak drew forth a small sliver of rock, one that had taken many long months of searching to uncover. <Now that we possess the first piece of the Rock of Reality, the others will fall into place soon enough. And then the xo armors and their masters will pay for their insolence.> Looking about the Spider Aliens and Dromak, he bellowed <Quickly! We must be gone before they return -- leave no trace of our existence. Our job here is finished.>
Somewhere, a young man named Geoff McHenry felt the Earth tremble in terror. A grave darkness was building, threatening a world that had only recently faced its greatest test. Geoff reached out with his Geomancer powers, seeking to calm Gaea.
It was no use, however. The spasms of fear continued, unabated.
Thursday, November 24th 1999. Northern California. The Home of Aric Dacia.
"Wow. This is great, Aric. You cooked this yourself?" Gamin cut through another slice of turkey, marveling at the moistness of the bird.
Aric Dacia grunted and looked around the table. Seated with him were his lover, Gamin; his blood-brother, Turok; and his holographic best friend, Ken Clarkson. "Not quite. Turok did most of the preparation -- I merely sliced it for serving." Aric shoveled another bite of turkey into his mouth. "It just occurred to me what a strange family we've become. All of us, in one way or another, has lost much. But we found one another. In the end, I think, I would change nothing about how my life has gone."
Gamin scrunched up her face into an odd grin. "Are you feeling okay? You don't usually get all schmaltzy like this."
"He's been reading my Hallmark cards that I've been sending out," Ken deadpanned. "It's enough to make anyone feel all snuggly inside. Even me." Ken poked at his turkey with a fork. "Wish I could eat, though. I love turkey... Used to, anyway."
Gamin leaned over to Turok. "Guess you're big into Thanksgiving, huh?"
The Son of Stone raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think that?"
"Well... Indians. Thanksgiving. You know...."
Ken rolled his eyes. "Finally. Someone with less tact than me." He leaned across the table towards Aric, who was devouring another plate of turkey. "Listen, Big Guy, how about making it official and giving me my old job back. Day-to-day operations, I can handle 'em. With Doris gone, you need me."
Aric looked up, a bit of grease on his chin. There were times, Ken noted, when you really could see the barbarian in him. "I've been thinking about that." Aric picked up a napkin and dabbed at his face, cleaning off the excess food. He wore a nice suit that Gamin had acquired for him (Aric hadn't asked how), and was taking care not to ruin it. "I agree that you're the best person for the job. But there are legal issues involved. I spoke with Josef Gallant* the other day -- I informed him that there was the possibility that you had, in fact, survived somehow. After he got over his shock, he started outlining the process you'd have to go through to prove your identity. I don't think, in your current condition, you could manage it."
(*Ken's former lawyer was introduced in X-O Manowar # 70.)
Ken shrugged. "So what? You don't have to put my name on the door. Just give me the job and leave me off the payrolls. It's not like I need the cash."
"But there's the chance someone might recognize you -- and there's the question of who the staff will direct problems or calls to. You have to have an identity."
"Oookay. So how are we gonna wing it?"
Gamin put a folder down in front of him, drawing Ken's attention. She'd obviously fetched it from another room while he and Aric had been talking. Ken opened it up and blinked. "Whoa. Drivers' license, social security card, credit history..." He held up the drivers license and examined it. "Rodrigo?! You named me Rodrigo?! That's horrible!"
Gamin laughed teasingly. "All the Johns and Bobs were taken, sorry. Besides, it's just in case you have to show some ID at some point."
Ken looked at the beautiful thief. "You did all this for me?"
"I'm a sweetie, aren't I?"
"Yeah. Guess so. Thanks."
Gamin tossed her hair. "It wasn't hard. I have plenty of contacts on the streets. To be honest, this is the first honest-to-God Thanksgiving I've ever had. The nicest one before this was when I broke into this old guy's estate and partied while he was away. That was a great Thanksgiving. Lonely, though."
Aric's hand touched hers, his eyes twinkling. He held up a glass of wine and stood, still clasping Gamin's hand. It was obvious that he was feeling a bit schmaltzy today, Turok thought. But his Blood-Brother deserved his happiness.
"In my time, we would toast a victory on the battlefield or the life of a loved one. Today, I would like to do both. We have won back what was rightfully ours... and we have cemented our friendship. I have good friends... and a good woman. I give thanks."
Ken raised his glass. "Ditto. Except for the good woman part. I'm fine without one, thanks."
Amid the laughter, Gamin was silent. So much was going perfectly for her -- and things had never gone perfectly for her. A chill went through. What's going to upset the apple cart? It can't stay this good forever.
She felt Aric's eyes on her and saw his adoration. A flush went through her and she a smile tug at her lips. What the hell? Let's enjoy it.
She allowed Aric to pull her to him, accepting his kiss and returning it. It wasn't so bad being a barbarian's trophy woman, after all.
10:45 PM
Aric Dacia dreamed.
Smoke obscured his vision, and the sounds of distant explosions made him tense. He was on the Spider-Alien ship, the one that had brought him from the past into this strange new world... but things were different.
Aric looked around. The Good Skin was gone, but the Map-Giver's carved map still bled in his palm. Have I gone back to that pseudo-world that Crescendo created? Am I reliving my life again?
"Visigoth scum..."
Aric whirled about, hearing the thick Roman accent. His fists clenched automatically and he crouched, ready to fight whomever or whatever was behind him. Things seemed dreamy and he barely noticed that the Spider-Alien ship was gone. In its place was a Roman countryside, the ground littered with the corpses of Visigoths.
A man strode towards him, eyes glowing red beneath a battle helm. Aric recognized him as Klitus, the Immortal Enemy's guise in the 5th Century. Klitus raised the sword and slashed down at Aric, who ducked and readied himself to attack.
His fist met empty air. Blinking, he surveyed his new surroundings : his office at Orb. Standing behind the desk, wearing a dark suit, was Malik. The so-called 5th century alchemist who had eventually been revealed to be nothing more than a mental creation of Crescendo's.
Aric roared and lunged for Malik, driving him to the ground and choking him. "Damn you to a thousand hells! How many times must I be tormented by this?!"
Malik put his hands on Aric's and pushed with surprising strength. He held the Visigoth away from him and held his gaze, "Calm down, Aric. I'm not here to torment you or to lock you away inside some mental trap. I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me? Of what? Some other scheme of yours, Crescendo?"
"I-AM-NOT-CRESCENDO!"
Aric felt the sincerity in the voice and, despite himself, eased off in his assault. "You have to be. Crescendo crafted you in order to trap me inside my own mind for years*...."
(*As explained in X-O Manowar # 69.)
"The face I wear isn't my own, Aric. I'm reaching into your subconscious and using elements that I'm finding there. You're in grave danger -- you must beware the Hanging Moon."
Aric blinked. "The Hanging... What are you talking about?"
Malik's image became hazy and insubstantial. "No! Not so soon... Aric, I may not be able to come back. But please, remember my words -- remember them!"
Aric found himself staring at the ceiling, Gamin at his side. Her nude form felt warm and safe beside him, but Aric's heart was pounding. The Hanging Moon... Was it just some dream or something more?
Pulling away from Gamin, he moved to the window and stared out. The moon was hanging in the sky, a sliver of its glory still shining down on the sleeping world below. Something in 'Malik's' manner had been so familiar... but he couldn't place the mannerisms exactly.
Gamin slid her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his back. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I... had a bad dream, that's all."
"Poor baby. Want me to tuck you back in?" Her soft lips kissed his shoulder.
Aric smiled and turned to face her. "You really are a thief, stealing my heart the way you did."
Gamin laughed softly. "God. No more Hallmarks. Never. Not in this house." Her eyes shone. "I have a lot to be thankful for, too."
Together, they returned to bed.
All thoughts of the Hanging Moon were temporarily lost.
Next Issue : X-O Manowar # 81 introduces a brand-new foe for Aric -- The Centurion! Who or what is he, and what's his connection to Aric's past? Be here for "Romulus."
AUTHOR'S NOTES
A relatively nice, quiet issue to follow "The Immortal X-O." A bundle of pennies to whomever recognized the Rock of Reality.
We continue to move towards the year 2000 in our series. The new Millenium is going to be very surprising, I promise. With the Centurion debuting next issue, Gamin's life story on the way and the mystery of the Hanging Moon to solve, I hope you're all as excited as I am.
See ya in the funny papers,