Posted by The Hooded Hood thinks this brief bit of prose needs to clog up the board for a while, and wishes to prove to Finny that sometimes people listen to what the Makluan's saying, honestly on November 02, 2000 at 06:57:29:
A certain draconic individual pointed out to me a couple of days ago that Marvel were advertising for authors for their book line, and persistently suggested that I submit a sample; so I have.
Here's what I've sent today to brighten the lives of the people at Marvel comics:
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The energy blast hit Iron Man right in the chestplate, shattered the titanium steel alloy, and seared a hole through the man inside. And that was the end of the armored Avenger. The lights came up as the simulation ended. Sunset Bain, the self-styled arms dealer Madame Menace, stepped onto the podium to address her impressed audience. “The ordinance is guaranteed to work just as well in real life against the real Iron Man,” she promised. “Stark produces the most advanced personal combat technology on the planet, but this material is left over from a recent incursion of Kree aliens and it’s about a thousand years ahead of anything we have here. We can’t reproduce it, but we do have three units for sale if the price is right.” The three men wielding the Kree shattercannons stepped forward to display them. Each four-foot gun was slung across their shoulder from an advanced tactics harness that detected metahuman activity and plotted the most efficient way of delivering two hundred terrawatts of plasma into the enemy. “Consider your bids carefully, ladies and gentlemen,” Sunset advised her guests. “Bidding begins in five minutes.” The dozen or so representatives of organizations interested in taking down superheroes milled around as the drinks were served. Kirsten Bowerson tried to remain as anonymous as possible in a quiet corner. “I’m here as a runner, okay?” she snarled, trying to hide her fear with her ferocity. The stranger looked round. “You sure you want to be here at all? It’s a pretty rough crowd.” “Look, I owed someone a favor, and this is better than the other ways a teenage girl can work off a debt to a guy like him,” she argued. “You aren’t scaring me off, mister. I’m here to bid.” “If you buy the guns and your boss kills a superhero with them doesn’t that make you an accessory to murder?” That one got to her, the stranger saw. “Look, I… I haven’t any choice, all right? What else can I do?” she stammered. “You want my advice?” the man in the trenchcoat asked. “Hide under that table.” “Huh?” “Take cover down there, kid. And hold onto my coat.” As he spoke, the stranger peeled off his overcoat to reveal a purple chainmail costume. He doffed his hat and pulled a mask over his face. From his pocket he took out a matchbox, opened it, and suddenly there were a full sized bow and quiver in his hands. “Don’t you just love Pym particles?” Hawkeye the Marksman grinned. “Under the table, okay?” Kirsten was too amazed to take his advice. “You’re going to try and bust these guys that have tech to take out Iron Man, using a bow and arrow?” “Well,” Hawkeye considered, “I might aim with my left hand if you think it’s too easy.” The intruding archer had definitely been noticed by now. Various bidders were getting out of the way, and Madame Menace herself was dealing with the problem. “Hawkeye!” she spat. “Well ladies and gentlemen, it seems you’re going to get a free demonstration of how our herokiller tech works.” “But how did he find us?” the local Maggia rep demanded. Hawkeye sealed the exit shut with three double-pronged arrows fired at once. “I’ve got a few shady contacts,” he shrugged. “So, MM, you wanna send in your gunboys?” “Annihilate him!” the arms dealer ordered her three thugs. The gun-toters oriented their shattercannons on the marksman and fired. He wasn’t there when the back wall was blown out. “Under the table, kid!” Hawkeye shouted as he rolled to the side and detonated the first of the priceless alien guns with a blast arrow. “Shoot him!” Sunset Bain screamed at the two remaining thugs. “He don’t appear on our scanners, ma’am!” one of the gunslingers explained. “He doesn’t register as having any powers at all.” The next blast punched holes in the adjoining wall but failed to hit the archer who was being hauled across the room by a pulley arrow. A chunky-tipped shaft adhered itself to the side of the second shattercannon. The electric discharge that fried the weapon’s systems also took down the thug who held it. “Orient on the technology in his arrows!” Madame Menace commanded. “Oops,” commented Hawkeye as he saw the remaining cannon twist to focus on him with absolute precision. He dropped from the cord and pulled off the pocketed harness which contained his specialized arrowheads. Even then the rubble from the third barrage stunned him for a moment. Kirsten watched with wide eyes as the shattercannon fired again – but the gun was set to destroy advanced technology, and oriented on the discarded harness. “Now I want you to know that I only palmed one arrowhead,” Hawkeye warned his adversaries. “So I gotta finish this quick.” His shot sent a glass-tipped vial right into the mouth of the remaining alien device. The thing rusted visibly and corroded to uselessness in seconds. “Heh. Shellhead always hated that one as well,” he grinned. This thug was still up, and made the mistake of trying to take the archer on physically. That was brief. The auction guests that hadn’t already made use of the large holes in the warehouse walls now chose the better part of valor. Hawkeye was confident that his team, the Thunderbolts, would be able to pick the small fry up as they fled. He’d kept the T-Bolts out of the sensory range of the alien weapons but they were useful back-up. Madame Menace remained in the center of the stage. The weapon she pointed at the marksman wasn’t of powerful alien design but it was enough to end his life in a searing final flash. “What a shame you’ve run out of arrowheads,” the arms dealer mocked. The untipped shaft hit her right between the eyes, and her first volley went wild. “Kid, my coat?” Hawkeye called to Kirsten. The girl handed over the garment and Hawkeye reached into the pocket. “The perfect thing,” he chuckled, clipping the glue capsule onto one of his missiles. “Hey, MM, this’ll stick it to ya!” After that it was just a matter of securing the prisoners, some basic first aid, and threats of vengeance from the people in handcuffs. Hawkeye sauntered back over to Kirsten when he’d done his work. “So, you want to tell me about the trouble you’re in and the next bad guy I need to bop?” he asked her. Kirsten Bowerson had to make a decision. “Yeah,” she answered. “Yes, I think I do.” Hawkeye the Marksman grinned again. It was turning into a perfect night.
It didn’t work. A tall man in a trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat came over to speak to her. “You’re kind of young to be a supervillain, aren’t you?”