Marvel Iron Age: Lady Deathstrike # 5
Rated M: Due to the not so kid friendly things that take place. (sexual content... I guess and violence) I own none of this stuff.
San Francisco, Night:
In other news, recent civil unrest in the North American wilds have been attributed to militant mutates...
"That is the official story. Not that you can ever believe the official story." Ngumi said completely bored of the current situation while the holo-screen blared in the background. She's holding this current interrogation in an abandoned mansion that has to be at least two hundred years old. She picked him up a couple of blocks away, deeper in the older part of the city.
"What the... who the hell are you?" The man said in a half conscious daze.
The man she's holding is chained to a couch, soaked from head to toe and smelling of gasoline. "You get told one thing and ultimately it is a fabrication. Would it matter now?"
"Let me go, psycho!"
"That sounded curiously like a demand." Ngumi said in a cold voice. On a dusty wooden table in front of her and the man lies a box of matches that Ngumi picked up. "I've been watching you. You are quite vicious... and sickening."
"Look I don't know who the stark you are, but I can make things happen for you. I can--"
She lit one of the matches and stepped closer to him. "Really? You are a drug dealing pimp who fell for the "new girl" trick. You are clearly not the best at what you do. I could have been a cop or under the employ of a competitor to kill you."
The man lets out a nervous chuckle and says, "No, you aren't one of those Iron pigs. Could tell that looking at you. And he makes sure there are no competitors in this quarter. Ain't no reason for it."
Ngumi raised an eyebrow and lit a match in front of the man, waving it in his face between her fingers. "Who is `he'?"
San Francisco, Later:
"Why am I doing this?" Ngumi the former shield agent sighed as she entered her apartment via the fire escape. Ngumi has been staying in an upscale penthouse apartment owned by, Alan Bryce for the last five weeks. In that time she's been carrying out vigilante activity in the city.
Her apartment was bigger than most people’s homes. Fully furnished and decadently decorated, Ngumi felt out of place. Being a former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D in this age of iron she was more used from scurrying from one fox hole to the next. But for now it was home. "Some horrible need to do good by your fellow man I hope." Said Alan Bryce through a holoscreen that popped up next to, Ngumi as she entered her home.
"You’re black mailing me, mostly." Ngumi mumbled as she snapped her fingers and the lights to her apartment flipped on.
"Small price to pay for getting your record scrubbed and legitimizing your brand new identity. Oh, and I got a call from your employer at the club."
Ngumi through the window, circled around a glass table and collapsed onto the nearest couch. "He was a scoundrel and a fiend!"
"You punched him in the face when he found you with his wife, backstage in your dressing room."
Alan sighed, his face planted in his palm. "Again."
"Oh, he can go to hell!" Ngumi scoffed. "I was clearly taken advantage of! I haven't killed anyone in weeks. And she picked up on certain... frustrations like a rabid Creed."
"I don't care, honestly. He expects you to perform tomorrow night and asks if you would please leave his spouse alone. What did this night's excursion show us?"
"More references to someone named, "Nobody." This last target didn't know anything either." Ngumi said closing her eyes and unzipping the leather jacket she wore on her mission. "I feel like I'm chasing a ghost."
Ngumi turned her head toward the screen and opened her eyes. Alan had a stern look on his face and had his arms crossed. "I didn't kill him. Or any of them in case you are wondering."
"Nobody is no ghost. His operation stretched as far as Chicago and since the Incident months ago he has let things fall by the wayside over here. Meaning he has to be in San Francisco."
Ngumi sites up and shoots an icy glare at Alan, "How do you know? And why don't you catch him?"
"Never seen him. But he's real and needs to be stopped."
With that, Alan cut the feed and the holoscreen faded.
Afterlife club, the next night:
Ngumi stood on stage for her set. The stage was small, fitting herself and the small band behind her. The crowd was large and full of energy. Alan found her a job singing cover songs from two hundred years ago in a local night club that caters to the retro music scene. She liked it for the most part, though she craved the sharp satisfaction of using her blade on a foe. This would have to do.
The stage lights flashed on. The club was smoky and strobe lights flashed in the background. She was center stage and in full view of the crowd. She brought the microphone to her mouth and began her song:
Still in the life of the wrong we all moved along
Another life evolved to gestation
And so we made our way with the mistake we made
But she was just a picture from a photograph
So she walked in the baby's room
Knowing what she should do, leave me in
She put her hand on its lip she gave it
One last kiss
And sang some tune that went
Until your rapture falls to pieces
Till your rapture falls to pieces
Find in me the room to breathe,
Simple things like suffering...
Her song ended and the crowd loved it. They usually did. Later that night she sat at the bar alone with a shot of whiskey. She was on edge, her fingers twitched and even though her set went well she craved a different type of excitement. "That was a great show, miss?"
"Ngu... Morgan. Morgan Black." Ngumi corrected as she turned to her left to see a man she spotted in the front row during her set. He had strawberry blond hair and dowey green eyes.
"That song was intense. Whose was it?" He asked, a large toothy smile widening on his face as he checked Ngumi out from head to toe.
"Rapture by HURT." Ngumi answered. "As the official line goes, I do not own the song the band and a group scarier than the Supreme Commander owns it."
The man pretends to shudder and says, "The record labels."
Ngumi laughs and looks deep into the man's eyes. Seeing something she's seen in hers many times before. "Yep. Now what do I call you sweet thing?"
"John Doe." He said, tapping at the bar stand with his pointer finger.
Ngumi chuckled and bit her bottom lip. "Want to get out of here Mr. Doe?"
He looked at the former agent with cool eyes and a slight smirk on his face. "Sure."
He followed her out of the bar into the alley across the street. A bright full moon giving the only light. She pushed him to a wall at the end of the alley and slammed her mouth into his. His hands wandered all over her body as he sloppily returned with a kiss of his own. With Ngumi in his arms he turned over and put her back against the wall.
Two larger masked figures entered the alley. Ngumi noticed while John Doe was busy, and let them get close. Ngumi reached into her back pocket and produced a small knife. "Hey what’s, wrong?" John asked in a muffled voice due to his face being buried in Ngumi's chest.
Ngumi raised a knee and shot it straight up into John's groin. As John doubled forward, Ngumi shoved him to the ground. One of the figures to the left reached for a weapon. With a flick of her wrist her knife shot out of her hand and jetted in between the figures eyes. The other froze in place as, Ngumi continued her charge. Ngumi shot a hard punch into the figures throat and added a sharp kick that shattered his leg.
The attacker fell to one knee as, Ngumi looked at him half crazed. She grabbed him by the head and with a quick twist of her hands, his neck snapped. Ngumi let him drop and yanked her knife from the body of the other attacker. She walked over to, John who was still clutching himself. "Oh stark! Don't kill me!"
Ngumi wiped the blood off her blade on her pant leg and kneeled beside, John Doe. "That felt... good. Tell me who sent you?" Her voice was quiet and had a reptilian quality.
John reached into his pocket and Ngumi pressed her knife to his throat with lightening speed. "Slow."
John did as he was told and pulled from his pocket a mobile device. He pressed a button and a holographic image of Ngumi leaving the mansion from last night. "Nobody, right?"
John's entire body shook and a strong foul scent emanated from him. Earlier when, Ngumi looked into his eyes they belonged to a predator on the hunt. That’s why she let him get close, to see what he was after, and to let him think he was in control. The moon light gleamed behind her and for the first time in weeks since getting to this city she felt she was rejuvenated in the presence of her god.