Marvel Iron Age: War Machine
Machine Men and Agents of Death 1 of 4
Manhattan, New York
Mid-town:
“Come on. Hurry, already.” She said, looking at her holographic map. The target was being escorted by an Iron army convoy. The hover-truck, which held the target was of great importance. The man inside it was set for tribunal at the New York chapter of the Iron army's hall.
This individual caused a stir with the army, they say he fought a dragon in, Indakistan and flattened a mountain. Why he was set for this military tribunal was anybodies guess. “Bing. And I've got a winner.” The convoy has just passed the second check point on her map .
She stands up, the wind whipping her hair in her face. Being on street level, she looked up and scanned for the signs of any troops. Air traffic spread for the convoy, settling into one lane. Four iron soldiers flew in position around the truck, “Now hold that.” She whispers, closing her map and pulling up her holographic control panel.
On lookers looked up at the spectacle. Four cars pulled out of the right lane and were closing in on the convoy. There curiosity turned into horror soon after. “And now that I've brought down the sky...”
Albany New York,
Last Night:
“Hey, look at this chick!”
“Omie gawd!”
Ngumi lay in the dumpster, beaten, broken and bloodied. And regretfully alive. Everything hurt, but most of all her sword was taken. She had been found by a group of two spiders that wondered the area. They took her to a near by apartment. The room was lit by dim florescent lights and the walls were watered stained and chipped.
She didn't make a sound, aside from the pained grunts from their attempt at treating her wounds. They spent an hour fixing her up, or at least the fatter of the two men was. The smaller man who had to be a least fifteen was too busy staring at her naked body. She even took the time to nickname them both. Bumpo and Weasel, she thought.
“All better,” Bumpo exhaled. “I can't do nothin bout your hands.”
“Which way is the old train station?” Ngumi said breaking her silence. Bumpo's eyes got wider and his hands trembled.
“Couple of blocks north and under the old tunnels.” Bumpo said.
“Hey this ain't no charity. We fixed you up and you jet? Just like that?” Weasel grunted.
Ngumi rolled her eyes. They had given her new clothing and tended her injuries. And now this weasel was extorting her. “We could have been starking caught.”
Ngumi got up from the crusty palate and headed toward the door. “My transport, above from the dumpster you found me in.” Ngumi stopped at the door and glanced at Weasel. “All yours.”
Manhattan, New York
Mid-town Now:
[Now getting yourself into trouble is one thing. Why get me into it?]
“Shut up.”
[I could have shut off your optics, if that little incident bothered you so.]
“Incident? That was murderer!”
[So says theWar Machine.]
War Machine was a man who at this moment was being taken to a military tribunal. Officially, he struck a commanding officer and killed him. The truth was a different matter. He watched as iron soldiers killed civilians and when he spoke up about it, this was his punishment. “Any way out of this moving coffin?”
[They've installed a damping field int the truck. I can't scan and you can't unleash the armor.]
He looked around the truck hoping to give a rebuttal. They had him shackled, and a green light deadened his connection to the armor. “Argh! Dammit!” He screamed, thrashing about the truck. An electric charge shot through his body. The truck started to tremble and jolt.
“Whats going on?”
[No data available]
The truck was spinning and then a loud crash tore through the hull. The inside of the vehicle twisted and smokey fumes rose from the bottom on the floor. War Machine was fine. There was a couple of feet from the back of the cabin to the exit. He stumbled and his vision blurred. The sound of metal being broken screeched from the door way, the hatch being pulled off. A woman stood between him and freedom.
He focused his vision and steadied himself. The woman had short black hair, asian features. She wore combat boots, black jeans and a zipped leather jacket, with the faded words, “wild pack” written on the sleeve. He'd seen her before, in the news. “Good to see you survived that fender bender.” She says, offering a hand.
“My name is--” Before she could answer, leaped out after her. Grabbing her by the neck and holding her into place.
“Ngumi Takada, you're part of the terrorist organization that attacked, Chicago. You are SHIELD!” He barked in a semi-metallic voice. “Over three hundred civilians died there.”
The nodes in his hands and shoulders lit up bright blue. In a digital like haze, his armor quickly put itself together. In seconds he was fully armored, sticking out due to the red and black decals. His armor was smaller than the standard war machine war machine armor, but holds any amount of internal weaponry that can be brought into the fight.
“Well since we know each other so well,” She placed a silver object on the War machines chest, and arc of energy rippled around him. He released her, falling to the floor. “No need for an introduction.”
Ngumi ran through a crowd of civilians, keeping a look out behind her. War Machine ripped off the device and flew after her. His on-board computer singling her out from the rest of the crowd. [Working on a firing solution.]
“Too many civs in the area.”
[Well... that’s just unfortunate.]
Ngumi, was in a full sprint, War Machine did nothing. She made sure to stay mixed with the civilians walking the streets. Using the pedestrians as cover. She could see sirens up ahead, law enforcement was on their way. She would have to think quickly. “Keep up.” she whispered. She cut into the alleyway, jumping for the fire escape.
“Got you!” War Machine scooped, Ngumi up with one arm, he flew straight up, tossing her on the roof. Bells began to ring, a heavy guitar and drums accompanied it.
“For whom the bell tolls?” Ngumi snickered. “Hardly the time for classical music.”
The music stopped. “I'm more into this, Chicago band. They used to play at this bar called, Champs.” War Machine grabs her by the collar of her jacket.
“Why?” His tone was demanding. Sharp.
Ngumi looked at him without expression. “Why did those people have to die? I don't know, everything went wrong that night. Casualties in this war.”
“What war?” He shouted. “The Supreme Commander has made the world a safer place. You and the rest of those inciting rebellion are the ones starting it!”
“Can you honestly look around and say that the world is safer?” Ngumi said. “The same people you defend beat people to death in the streets on a daily basis. They murder people in their homes, experiment on them. The whole damn world is being held hostage and you're to indoctrinated to see it.”
He wanted the words to rebuke her claims, he wanted to prove her wrong. “That tech you use for your armor. That had to be put into you. Did they even leave you you're name? How much do you remember after the procedure?”
He threw her to the ground. Ngumi winced in pain, holding her side. “I volunteered.” War Machine said mechanically.
“Now that's a good little soldier.” She said patronizingly. She looked at him blankly, her breathing was calm and her words are penetrating. “What else.”
War Machine's repulsors and eyes began to flare. Ngumi never moved. His armor began to rattle, his fists balled into fists. A dull buzz could be heard from within the armor until it became a thunderous roar. The suit dissipated. Leaving only the man inside. He feel to his knees, his body trembling.
“Nothing.” He said quietly. “They left me with nothing!” His voice shook with new emotion, his eyes began to tear.
“Whats your name?” He looked up, Ngumi stood above him. Her hand was lowered toward him. Slowly he reached for the hand, not fully trusting of her. Ngumi completed the action, her hand locked in his.
“I don't remember. God I... I don't remember.”
Log in to comment