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Marvel Mayhem - El Tarantula #0
This is my first piece of writing for the public and hopefully with the group's blessing I can continue writing this story. I look forward to all your comments and queries and will attempt to answer them to the best of my abilities.
Two figures dressed in black lurched out of the setting desert sun as a dilapidated uni-bomber style shack came into view. The one in front being pushed by the former, his face covered by a hood and his arms bound tightly with cable ties. The helpless figure was shoved roughly, and fell into a shallow hole camouflaged by a tarp, his shoulder cracked loudly as he landed at the bottom. His ‘companion’ dressed head to toe in black stopped at the edge and looked down. The figure in black watched the trapped man squirm with disgust, flicked the hood off to reveal a face covered in cuts and cigarette burns.
“Where the hell am I?” The man grunted. “You... you’re that punk on the TV, the one who beat up that senator last week.”
“I am?” The figure in black asked in a mocking tone. “And you're Blackie Drago, a low life thug and an idiot who thought by moving out of New York he would have a pass to do whatever he wanted. Still, someone like you has uses.”
“I don’t work with heroes.” Blackie groaned as he struggled to remove the cable ties that bound his hands.
“Do you really think a hero would do this?” The figure in black asked. “I’m not a hero, but I’m not one of you either. Now you have two choices; either you answer my questions or I leave you in that hole to rot.”
“Bite me.” Blackie spat. “But remember that when I get out of here the Vulture will be coming for you. I’ll make sure that every day you feel like you’ve got a target painted on the back of your head!"
“Hard way it is.” The figure in black sighed, then removed a canister from their belt and twisted the nozzle and tossed it into ‘Blackie’s Grave.'
“What is this you sick f*ck?” Blackie asked. “Some kind of smoke grenade?”
“It’s amazing what you learn when your guest lecturer is an Avenger. That is a pheromone solution from Solenopsis invicta, an invasive ant species. In minutes the first scouts will be marching into this hole and in an hour they will have begun to pick the flesh from your bones.” The figure stated calmly. “Now tell me where Hurricane is before I start filling in the hole.”
“Oh, you want that guy.” Blackie stated. ” Him, yeah he’s around. Last I heard he was holed up in a trailer park just off I35 Exit 281. He’s been using the road to commit hit and run robberies on tourists passing by. Now get me out of here.”
“Hold tight for a moment.” The figure in black looked over to where the shack stood, before tapping the headset and pulling out a mobile phone. “Hello nine-one-one, I want to talk to Detective Dawson of the Austin Police Department. I have a crime to report.” He waited for a few seconds, then activated the phone’s speaker mode.
“Hello, Detective Tex Dawson.” A rustic Texan accent stated, “Hello anyone there?”
“Hello Detective, do you recognize my voice?” The figure in black asked.
“You?” Dawson gasped. “You!”
“Hey! Help! I know who this punk is, it’s that Night Thrasher guy from Stamford!” Blackie yelled.
“Is someone else there?” Tex asked. “We already have charges of assault, breaking and entering, and interfering with a police investigation. We will catch you. So for the love of God turn yourself in.”
“I will when I've finished my mission.” The figure in black replied. “I’m leaving this phone on so you can trace this call. You should find a wanted felon known as Blackie Drago at the end. But I’d hurry, he’s going to attract attention from the locals very soon. I wish you luck Detective Dawson.” The figure tossed the phone into ‘Blackie’s Grave.'
“Damn it! Star, we've got a hostage situation!” Dawson yelled as the figure strode back the way they had come slowly. The figure reached up and pulled the mask off to reveal long black hair, streaked with red. And a feminine face. “So you are close Hurricane.” She purred as she reached a Toyota Hilux, a dirt bike strapped to its bed, before she cut the cables with a blade attached to her wrist. “Catching you will get me one step closer to the men I need to find, to the survivors. And when I find Night Thrasher, Penance and Nitro I’ll learn the truth about what happened to my sister after Stamford.”
Lights swirled around the shack as a police Jeep 4X4 rolled up, and an ageing man dressed in a leather jerkin and trousers raced to the hole, his gun drawn. But when he looked inside he saw was a writhing tide of red running across a human body. Following him to the edge a blonde woman and a man with a bushy mustache, both dressed in police uniforms, looked down at the grisly sight with shared looks of disgust.
“Do you think that’s Blackie Drago?” The woman asked.
“I’m certain.” Dawson snarled, “The 'Tarantula Vigilante' has never lied to us about what he does Officer Star.”
“That is a mighty bad way to shuffle off the mortal coil.” The mustached man commented. “Guess we can add murder to El Tarantula’s rap-sheet. You reckon SHIELD will send someone down to investigate this?”
“SHIELD is too busy dealing with serial killers and aliens in New York to get involved with local problems.” Dawson stated, “And that’s what this is.” He added, "The news crews don’t need to hear anything about this. A whole load of folks think this Tarantula character is just what law enforcement needs, someone who is tough on criminals.”
“What do you think boss?” Officer Star asked, “Daniels and I will support you in whatever you decide.”
“I think that whoever El Tarantula is he’s smart, cocky, and full of himself.” Dawson told her, “And because of that we’ll catch him. I will say one thing for him though, he knew how to clean up evidence. It’ll be nearly impossible for us to remove all those fire ants before they destroy the majority of the evidence.”
“So what, we wait for the little suckers to finish?” Officer Daniels asked.
“Until we can get some insecticide down here to deal with the ants.” Dawson sighed. “Round one goes to El Tarantula, but he’d better savor it. His days running free are now numbered.”