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-Sorry for the long wait between chapters, folks! I went in for knee surgery and it's knocked me on my rear a little. 6 weeks off of work will give me a little time to get caught up! Now, without further ado, here we go with... Hammered Part III The meeting with Stark had, predictably, not gone well. The accusatory dissection of her tactics had perhaps been warranted, but his condescending tone had led her to not-so-politely suggest he could “proceed to engage in intimate relations with himself.” Further and much to her disgust, he’d continually failed to maintain eye contact. She’d finally had fantasies of forcibly wiping the smug look from his face as he’d casually informed her that she’d now be working for S.W.O.R.D. and she ended up storming out. Dr. Morse caught up to her, imploring her to stay but Carol refused. “He’s an insufferable egomaniac. Who does he think he is, busting my chops and then basically telling me I’m joining your little gang?” “Well, you’re not wrong.” Bobbi agreed, “The thing is that what we do here is so much more than taking any orders from him. But I do think there’s a lot more similarity between us than you realize. Aside from my training, there’s nothing special about me. I don’t have your abilities or any kind of super-powers. However, I’ve found a few others that do and have helped to recruit them into S.W.O.R.D. Like you, our goal is to help those that can't help themselves. There have been a number of disturbing incidents over the past few years that point to a coordinated effort to destabilize governments around the world. Unfortunately we have few leads and we're desperate for someone as powerful as you to join with us.” “It’s a hell of a recruitment process you have here.” “It’s not always like what you had to put up with. However, you’re the first one Mr. Stark has personally taken an interest in.” “With the way he was leering at me, I could never have guessed he was interested,” Carol snorted. Bobbi held her gaze, frowning and Carol was silent. “Yes, he’s pretty confident in his approach and is used to having women flocking to his side. I’m not making excuses for him or condoning that behaviour. There’s no excusing his disrespect. Truthfully, we're not even his primary focus. Stark industries is a military contractor and he's too busy with advanced weapons research to bother with managing us, let alone, being here to practice his particular brand of 'charm'.” Carol was mollified, “Has he ever tried that crap with you?” “Only once.” “What happened?” “I used a shime-waza on him. Specifically a hadaka-jime.” Bobbi noted the confused look on Carol’s face and explained, “A hadake-jime is a Judo rear choke hold. You should’ve seen the look on his face! I wrapped him up so fast, I’m sure he thought he was about to get lucky! At least until he blacked out,” she laughed. Carol couldn’t help but to laugh along, her mood broken. “So, I take it you’re good?” Bobbi nodded, “That’s the other reason I’m here. I’m hachidan, an eighth-level Kodokan judoka. Not the highest-ranked, by any means, but I teach Judo to our team. Tactical combat and martial arts are an incredible supplement to their abilities. Stark provided me with additional resources that help to make up for what I lack in super abilities.” “What, like guns?” Bobbi shook her head, no, and asked Carol to come with her. They got into an elevator and descended several floors. Bobbi brought her into a gymnasium space, lined with mirrors on the far end and an array of weapons on racks on the adjacent wall. There was a padded area in the middle of the room and sparse oriental-themed decorations adorning the space. Several mannequins were located at various points in the room along with what looked like speed bags and punching bags. In the weapon racks were several Japanese swords, spears and club-like objects. Some looked familiar, others Carol had seen before only in movies. “These all yours?” Carol asked, admiring one of the fine Katanas in its rack. “No, they are for practicing Kenjutsu and other weapon fighting. I use these,” she said reaching for two non-descript metal bars, each around 3 feet long. Bobbi turned and bowed solemnly to Carol, then began to practice her craft. Vaulting into the center of the padded area, she struck three targets almost simultaneously. Her attacks were fluid and the bars were wielded as an extension of herself. At times she would join the two halves into a single six-foot bar and attack the mannequins in a blur of motion. Just as quickly the bar would be separated again for a close-in attack on a pair of targets. She combined her weapon attacks fluidly with judo strikes, throwing roundhouse kicks and targeting vital spots on the mannequins. She instructed Carol to pay particular attention to those vitals as she demonstrated a Gammen-tsuki strike in the Getsuei. “For a right-handed attack, a hard blow to the left floating rib, “the Getsuei”, can cause a dislocation and cripple your opponent. Though competitive judo forbids the use of striking techniques, in a real fight you would definitely need to know these kinds of moves.” Bobbi wound down her demonstration and bowed again to Carol, who felt obligated to bow in return. She passed the bars to Carol who accepted them with as much respect as she could muster. The mechanism to connect the two was readily apparent, needing only a simple twist to click together. They were lightweight but inexplicably sturdy. The bars were handed gently back to Bobbi who then replaced them on the rack. To Carol’s shock, Bobbi then began to remove her top. “I also wanted to show you this,” she explained as Carol began to protest, her unease showing. Bobbi laughed, “No, no! This is what I want to show you,” and she pointed to the material underneath her t-shirt. “It’s one of the other perks of working for a weapons manufacturer. This is an advanced material called graphete. It’s stronger than solid steel, with less than half-a-percent of its density yet it’s as soft and pliable as cotton. It’s like a high-tech suit of armor, far better than Kevlar.” “Well, I’m impressed. I really am. And you’re amazing, Dr. Morse, but I really don’t see a future for myself here under the control of a raging narcissist like Tony Stark.” She held out her hand to thank Bobbi. With a grimace, she accepted and ushered Carol to an exit near the top of the building. Watching her fly off, Bobbi held her palm to her forehead and muttered, “Ugh Tony. You really screwed this one up.” To be continued...
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Hammered Part II The room was dark and she awoke to a pounding headache and complete disorientation. Rolling off the bed, every step was agonizing. White spots dominated her vision and a wave of nausea slowed her progress. Carol paused to take stock of her surroundings. The cold, tiled floor was the first clue that she wasn’t in her home. The lack of medical equipment meant it also couldn’t be a hospital despite the fact that she wore a medical gown. A plain wardrobe and pedestal sink stood opposite the bed. There was a curtain on one side of the room and, ignoring the pain in her head, she pulled back the blinds. There was only a blank wall, not a window. She gingerly padded over to the door. Reaching for the handle, Carol was startled when it turned and swung open. A young woman on the other side narrowly avoided being cold-cocked when Carol checked her swing. “Well, that’s not very gracious of you,” the young woman laughed. “Please get back in your bed. You’re suffering from a concussion.” She took Carol’s arm and guided her back to lay on the bed. “I’m Dr. Barbara Morse, but you can call me Bobbi.” “This isn’t a hospital,” Carol croaked, “Where am I?” “No it isn’t a hospital, not exactly, although you’re receiving the best care available. You’ve been out of it for a few days now. You’re lucky we found you when we did.” The memory of her fight with Hammerhead came rushing back. Feeling her aching elbow, she recalled landing a blow on what felt like solid steel. “It’s a bone contusion,” Bobbi nodded, “You should be grateful that it wasn’t completely shattered. We believe that his skull is lined with a woven Adamantium or similar alloy. Based on the files we’ve reviewed on your tablet, that’s about the only thing about him we knew and you didn’t.” Carol relaxed a bit, realizing that she hadn’t been captured by the Maggia. “I realize that this must be a bit unusual for you,” Bobbi continued, “but we’ve been trying to find you for quite some time.” “Not that unusual,” Carol chuckled to herself, thinking of Felicia and Oracle. “We finally got a fix on you and followed you to the Hunters Warehouse. Hammerhead had knocked you out cold and it looked like things were about to get really ugly when we stepped in.” “Who do I have to thank for that?” “Agent Mockingbird tracked you down,” was the reply from a well-dressed man just entering the room, “and barely got there in time to save your sorry butt.” Striding confidently to Carol’s bedside, a hand casually resting in his pants pocket, he appraised Carol with a raised eyebrow. He was handsome, sporting an immaculately groomed goatee, dark glasses and slightly greying hair. “If it’s possible, I’d like to meet him and say thanks,” Carol asked wearily. Her earlier walk around the room had taxed her and she was growing tired. “Not him - her,” the man pointed at Bobbi. “You’re welcome,” Bobbi nodded, “Now get some rest. You may need a couple of days off your feet still but your recuperative abilities are off the charts so it may be quicker than I expect.” “I need to get in touch with my office. They’ll be worried about me.” “We’ve taken care of it,” the suit guy frowned. “Uhh, ok? So, who are you and where am I?” Carol inquired. “You’ve been brought to the Sentient World Observation and Response Department’s facility. S.W.O.R.D., for short.” He paused, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. With a shrug he continued, “S.W.O.R.D.’s mandate is to manage extra-terrestrial individuals and events which is how you popped up on our radar. There really isn’t much we can do about it just yet but we’re aware of what you could call a UFO in orbit. It’s not much of a stretch to connect it to more and more people like you suddenly appearing.” “Still not answering my question.” “I’m offended,” he said, stretching out the words and pulling off his glasses, “that you don’t know. Those were my missiles hanging off of your jet, Major. I’m Tony Stark. I also fund this organization. Now get some rest and we’ll talk about your little misadventure soon.” He abruptly turned and walked out. Carol stared incredulously at the back of his head and looked to Dr. Morse, who’d stood silently throughout the exchange. Bobbi could only nod in agreement when Carol flatly stated, “What a jerk.” To be continued...
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