"This Looks Like a Job For...”

The ship creaked wearily in the wind as its crew lashed it to the moorings along the riverbank. The human cargo packed tightly into the dark hold of the boat might have groaned similarly, but storms had delayed the arrival of the vessel. The crew had used the last of the water; the slaves had been forced to go without, and now their desert-dry throats could make very little sound.

The hatch to the hold was thrown open, and the first fresh air in months began to mingle with the fetid cloud of waste and suffering that surrounded the slaves. Before the captive Africans’ eyes had a chance to adjust to the light, the crew began to lead them up out of the hold. The men closest to the hatch were roughly yanked forward, and the chains connecting them to the rest of the human cargo pulled the others along as well. At the hatch, crew members unchained the bodies of slaves who had died in transit and rolled their bodies into the Mississippi.

The remaining slaves were led down the gangplank, across a short pier, and into an open square near the river. A small rostrum had been erected on one side of the square, from which an auction of human lives would be directed shortly. A short, fat man with greasy black hair stood on the edge of the rostrum and shouted at the slaves.

“Soon you will all be taken to your new homes! Do what you are told and you may live a while longer! You may even get some proper clothes, and learn to fear a real God! At the very least you can forget any of the heathen ways you once had! The punishment for practicing any non-Christian religion is death!”

The slaves may or may not have understood the words spoken by the auction-master, after months huddled below decks, catching snatches of the crew’s conversations. Yet his meaning was unmistakable. Around the open square, at regular intervals, were wooden pikes. Atop each pike was the head of a slave who had been found in violation of the state religion.

A young girl in the middle of the throng of recently arrived slaves stared transfixed at one of the heads. It had belonged to a boy who had been no older than her when he had been executed. The boy’s head hung at an angle, his tongue swollen grotesquely past his lips. His face was pointed at the young girl, and when his eyes snapped open she was able to see the baleful fire within them.

“… ba-a-a-d … pl-a-a-a-ce …” the decapitated boy said, his distended tongue twitching like a dying slug.

Delaina Teague woke up screaming.

It took several disoriented moments for her to realize that she was sitting in her own bed. She rubbed her face with her hands and then looked at the clock radio on her nightstand; it read 4:15 a.m. It was not the first time she had had a nightmare so intense, but they had been coming more frequently lately. Sometimes she wondered if it had anything to do with the intensity of her waking life ever since she had thrown in with Bad Blood.

“As long as this is the weirdest thing about today,” she said softly to herself as she lay down again. “As long as this is it, I should be ok.”

The docks of New Orleans were alive with activity like some industrialist utopia. Towering cranes swung in ponderous arcs through the early morning sky, loading and unloading huge metal crates of goods in the bellies of massive ships. Forklifts laden with palettes navigated between flatbed trucks bearing steel drums, bundles of lumber, as many different kinds of goods as could be imagined. Workers coordinated the complex dance of shipping and receiving, inventorying and routing, as they did every day in the sprawling port.

Pete Ghalarian paused for a moment to pull a red handkerchief from his back pocket and wipe the sweat from his wide face. He had been working on the unloading of a ship since before dawn, and as soon as three more boxes were taken from the hold and given over to ground transportation, he would be able to take a much-needed break. He stood on the deck of the ship and watched the hook of a crane lower slowly toward the opening of the hold.

“Pete, you playing cards with us tonight?” another dockworker called to him from the concrete riverbank.

Pete turned around and spotted Chuck Batista. “Maybe if the old lady’s in a good mood when I get home this evening,” he answered with a shrug.

Batista laughed and pantomimed cracking a bullwhip in Ghalarian’s direction. Ghalarian was about to make his own comeback when a loud, metallic thud echoed out of the ship’s hold. He spun around, expecting to see the hook resting on the black metal crate below decks and trying to remember if someone new was controlling the crane, someone who might have let the hook descend too quickly. But the hook was still overhead, making its measured way down through the air.

Ghalarian stepped to the edge of the opening in the deck and looked down at the black crate. Another booming impact sounded, and now Ghalarian could see that the lid of the crate had buckled as if struck from within. “What the hell...?” he began to ask.

The next sound was the shriek of rending steel as the top of the crate was torn open and a huge shape burst forth from it. Pete Ghalarian reflexively began to back away, so quickly that when he struck the rail at the edge of the ship’s deck he pitched backwards over it. As he fell towards the dock below, he tried to tell himself that he had not just seen a gigantic hand reaching out of the cargo hold.

“And here I thought it was just going to be some numbnuts hijacking a boatload of bobbleheads or something,” Valence said as he surveyed the docks. Thick black smoke undulated around the piers and ships, originating from a warehouse that had been gutted by fire, its foundations still in flames. Steel cargo crates bobbed on the surface of the river, surrounded by other pieces of debris. The cab of a crane swung wildly high overhead, its long arm leading down to the roof of a small gray building like a pin stuck into a potato bug.

Bad Blood stood upriver from the turmoil, gathered together after Hangfire had seen the first reports of the conflagration and raised the general alarm on the subaudibles. “This isn’t a robbery,” Hangfire agreed. “This is pure chaos.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sojourn agreed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Ember, standing beside her, asked, “You all right, babe?”

“Long night,” she answered quietly. “Not in the mood for boats and docks today.”

“Let’s get in there. Be ready for anything,” Pierce advised.

“Ready for anything?” Karnival repeated doubtfully. “I know Hangfire’s a little long in the tooth, boss, but I trust his eyesight. And from what he described of the video feed, there’s only one thing this could be, right? It’s gotta be Titano.”

“That’s why I’m packing this,” Hangfire said, patting the stock of a hunting rifle.

“All we know for sure is that it’s big and strong and destructive,” Pierce said flatly.

“And monkey-shaped,” Karnival added under his breath. An illusory chimp head appeared over his shoulder. More hid a smile behind his hand.

“Be. Ready. For anything.” Pierce deemed the topic closed for discussion and made a double thumbs-up gesture at his waist. Valence rose into the air on an electromagnetic current, levitating Pierce, Hangfire, Karnival and More with him. Ember’s superheated surface turned deep orange-red as he too became airborne, while Sojourn shifted to spirit-form and began to walk along the air.

“All I’m saying is when Titano shows his ugly ape-face I want someone to buy me a beer for being right,” Karnival said.

“You got it, K,” Valence said. “I’ve been meaning to get you and Katarina and me and Nancine together for a while, anyway.”

“That way,” Pierce pointed downriver and slightly inland, identifying the most concentrated path of destruction. The flattened, splintered boxes and overturned trucks led into an oily black cloud of smoke. Valence followed it, and soon it the team was engulfed in billowing darkness.

“Which way now, Pierce?” Valence asked with a cough.

Pierce said nothing as his helmet sensors recalibrated to penetrate the fumes. His head turned slowly from side to side, then stopped suddenly. “Valence, incoming, nine o’clock high!”

Valence’s head snapped to the left, and beheld a standing watertank falling towards them. “Sorry for the rough landing, guys,” he said as he diverted all of his magnetic energy upward. His teammates landed on their feet as the power holding them aloft cut out. Valence held his hands up, willing the watertank to take on the same polarity as the spectrum of energy pouring from his body. Hundreds of gallons of water spilled over the lip of the tank, but Valence was able to repel the towering structure, slowly righting it. “I think I can ... magnetically fuse it back to its base,” Valence said through clenched teeth. “Take a minute or two, though.”

“At least we know which way to head, though,” More pointed out.

“Right, good for us,” Hangfire sighed.

“Let’s go,” Pierce said. “Ember, you’re on point.”

“Rock and roll,” Ember nodded, flying ahead of the rest of the heroes as they passed the base of the watertank. His blazing heat dissipated the smoke somewhat as Bad Blood clambered through the path of wreckage. In the distance, sirens wailed as the first emergency crews began to arrive on the scene. Then, much closer, a primal roar thundered out of the darkness. A moment later, a fifty-foot tall shape appeared before them, a towering brown-furred beast with long, powerful arms, baring fangs in a feral snarl.

“Oh how I hate being right sometimes,” Karnival said.

“I don’t like that look in monkeyboy’s eyes,” Ember shouted. “I’m gonna have to take ‘em out!” With that, he rocketed upward at the colossal gorilla’s head.

“No, Ember, wait!” Karnival yelled at his teammate. “Titano’s not just a giant ape! He’s got - -”

Ember was nearing Titano’s eyes, his burning fists held before him to strike. Titano stared the approaching flyer down, and his black eyes glowed with a deep green light. The light exploded out of the primate’s eye sockets, slamming into Ember and driving him back down to the ground. Ember smashed into the dock with devastating force.

“- - kryptonite vision,” Karnival finished.

Hangfire unshouldered his hunting rifle. “I hope this is enough to bring him down,” he grumbled.

“You and me both, buddy,” More said. “Maybe I can make him a little easier of a target for you.”

More loped off toward Titano’s feet, and threw his arms around one furry ankle as soon as it was within reach. The strongman heaved against the ape’s frame, but the limb would not budge. Titano seemed almost not to notice, until the gigantic beast squatted down to reach between its legs. More disappeared in Titano’s long, black fingers, just as a huge dart plunged into Titano’s shoulder.

Another dart whizzed through the air, striking Titano in the center of its chest. With a quick snapping motion Hangfire chambered another dart and fired again, striking directly below the feathered shaft quivering in Titano’s chest. And again, a deft reload and another dart sliced through the smoky air and lodged itself in Titano’s neck.

Titano bellowed in animal rage and flung More away. Hangfire, Pierce and Karnival dove aside as More’s body blasted past them and through the wall of a nearby building. Titano reared up to its full height again, shaking its hands over its head threateningly.

“Damn, that’s not so good,” Hangfire said, rolling onto his back to reload the hunting rifle.

“You could hit him with thirty more darts and it wouldn’t be enough to take him down,” Pierce insisted.

“Hey guys, what’d I miss?” Valence asked, flying to the scene.

“We’re still looking for a good approach here,” Karnival admitted.

“Trying to get out of damage control mode would sum it up better,” Pierce countered. “Delaina?”

“Yeah?” Sojourn answered. The voice came from nowhere, so she added, “Up here.”

Pierce and the others turned their heads and found the spectral form of Sojourn. “There’s nothing mystical about a giant radioactive gorilla. You’re mobile enough to check on Ember and More and let us know if they need attention.”

“Gotcha,” Sojourn agreed, trying not to be too grateful to be excused from the battle. She floated off wraith-like in the direction of the crater Ember had made in the ground.

“Um, if we’re not doing so well here, don’t you think maybe we should call in someone with some more experience with Titano?” Valence suggested. “You know, Big Blue?”

“No,” Karnival and Pierce declared in unison.

Valence raised his eyebrows at the forcefulness of their refusal. Hangfire waited for an explanation as well.

Karnival answered, “May I once again point out Titano’s kryptonite vision.” The empty orbits of his skull visage glowed with the same green light that had felled Ember. “Aside from the dangers inherent in any exposure to intense radiation, none of us has a particular weakness to that kind of attack. Superman does.”

“And we can handle this,” Pierce admonished. “I might be able to get in closer, with the right distraction. Assuming Karnival’s mental illusions work on brains a couple of rungs down the evolutionary ladder.”

“I think Titano stepped off daddy Darwin’s hierarchy a while back,” Karnival retorted. “But I’m with you.” Karnival turned his gaze toward Titano, and a familiar blue, red and yellow garbed figure appeared in mid-air. The image of the Man of Steel began to fly toward the gargantuan ape.

Titano swatted a powerful hand at the Superman illusion, and Pierce inclined his helmet toward Valence. “Up, up, and away,” he said.

“Nice,” Valence smirked. Magnetically, he propelled Pierce through the air, releasing control of the energy as Pierce hovered over Titano’s shoulder. Pierce landed in a crouch on the top of the beast’s back, as Titano made another furious lunge at the flying image of Superman. Pierce grabbed a double handful of coarse fur to keep from being thrown off the creature.

Enraged at the vision of Superman flying maddeningly out of reach, Titano released another barrage of kryptonite radiation from its eyes. Unfortunately, the illusory Man of Steel was directly in front of the beast near its waist, the midpoint of a straight line from Titano’s head and the members of Bad Blood on the ground.

Valence, Karnival and Hangfire reacted instinctively. Hangfire’s mental forcefield shimmered into existence around his body, nearly invisible. Valence’s own protective sheath of energy glowed with a deep emerald of Oan power. Karnival literally flattened himself to the ground, becoming a two-dimensional image against the dock.

The twin beams of radiation struck an instant later, with a furious intensity like a hellish green nuclear ground zero. Hangfire was able to reflect some but not all of the energies; Valence, too, found himself only partially protected. Karnival fared worse still, as he screamed in agony and returned to a limp three dimensions prone on the ground as the kryptonite radiation faded. It was a small mercy that the attack had been the briefest burst of an animal’s temper.

“No … particular … weakness … he says,” Hangfire panted.

“Yeah … that hurt,” Valence nodded, grimacing. “Pierce better be ready. Karnival’s KO’ed and that’s bye-bye fake Supes.”

Pierce had secured his position at the back of Titano’s neck, and detached his bo staff from its clasps on his gauntlet. He extended the staff to its full length and jammed the blunt end into Titano’s flesh. Titano howled in pain, clawing wildly between its shoulders. Pierce evaded the massive fingers for a few seconds, then fired a grappling line from his gauntlet over Titano’s shoulder. The hook arced around the beast’s thick neck, swinging back to return over the opposite shoulder. Pierce caught the hook from the air and slid down the line to the middle of Titano’s back. Dangling by one hand, Pierce jammed the bo staff into the base of Titano’s spine, producing another pained roar from the giant ape.

“I don’t think Pierce is doing much more than pissing him off,” Hangfire observed.

“Right,” Valence agreed. “I guess I better end this. Didn’t want to do it in a way that tore the place up too much, but ... docks’re pretty trashed already, wouldn’t you say?”

“You do what you gotta do, man,” Hangfire shrugged.

Valence rose into the air, gathering energy until it began to crackle around him. “Pierce, get clear!” he yelled.

Pierce had scaled the grappling line and once again stood balanced on Titano’s shoulder. Titano snapped its jaws at Pierce. Pierce jammed his bo staff between the beast’s fangs. Titano’s kryptonite vision exploded outward and blasted Pierce off its shoulder.

“Not like that,” Valence muttered, knowing that Pierce’s armor could protect him from a fifty-foot fall. Valence directed all of his magnetic energies below the dock, searching for the electrical resonance of a major power cable. When he found it, he exerted enough magnetic pull to yank a cable out of the ground. Like an anaconda from the same leviathan jungle which might have given birth to Titano, the black cylinder writhed toward Titano, hissing bluish-white sparks. Valence pushed the cable into Titano’s chest. The giant ape’s roar rose in pitch to an ear-splitting screech as the power cable sizzled and popped against its flesh. Then, with a deafening crash, Titano fell backwards, immobilized.

Valence flew toward the spot where Pierce had landed from his dive off Titano’s shoulder. Hangfire ran behind him, followed by a groggy Karnival. Ember was able to fly under his own power again, and joined them from the opposite direction. Moments later More and Sojourn met up with their teammates as well.

“Before anyone asks, I’m fine,” Pierce said as he rose to his feet.

“Oddly enough, I wasn’t even gonna ask,” More confessed, rubbing a painful knot forming on the back of his bald head.

“I’m too busy focusing on not losing my lunch, between krypto-rays and the smell of fried monkey fur,” Hangfire added.

“Good plan,” Karnival said.

“Better plan is finding out how Titano ended up in our backyard,” Pierce said. “This feels like a set-up. We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before the police lock this place down and obliterate the answers.”

“C’mon, Pierce, this is New Orleans,” Valence protested. “We’ve got at least an hour before the police put down their beignets.”

“More like two,” Sojourn agreed.

“Just move,” Pierce insisted.

Forty-five minutes later, the members of Bad Blood were being driven through the streets of New Orleans in Hangfire’s black conversion van. Pierce held two devices which he had retrieved from the underside of the cargo crate that had housed Titano before the creature’s rampage. He had been running field diagnostics on the devices, but making little headway, when Hangfire had suggested a nearby lab for further analysis.

“Why don’t we just call Enigma?” Ember asked. “He’s a smart guy.”

“We might not have the time for a field trip to the Institute,” Pierce said curtly. Hangfire rounded another corner without braking, and his teammates braced themselves as best they could in the back of the van. “And if Hangfire’s old friend is as good as he says ...”

“He’s one of the best minds the Army Corps of Engineers ever failed to ruin,” Hangfire acknowledged. “And after his service time he got a job leading research efforts for a bleeding edge tech company. If anyone can figure out what ...” Hangfire’s words trailed off into a guttural moan as he pitched forward onto the steering wheel. The van listed to the right and slammed hard into a street light. The driver of an SUV following behind hit his brakes a second too late and crashed into the rear corner of the van, rocking it onto its side.

“Hangfire!” Sojourn screamed, but he gave no response. “Anyone?” She looked frantically around the van, but every member of Bad Blood seemed to have succumbed to the same malady as Hangfire. They had doubled over and curled into fetal positions, shaking violently. “What’s going on?!?” she demanded.

“Easy, easy,” More said. He had been tangled under Ember and Valence’s bodies after the crash, but now he seemed to be the only one besides Sojourn not convulsing. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Sojourn waved off his concern. “But everyone else … oh my God. More, look at them. Look!”

More took in the cramped scene as best he could, liking it less and less with every second that the tremors continued to wrack his teammates’ bodies. Then he saw what Sojourn had wanted him to see. On the neck of each of the shuddering heroes, a globe of flesh was swelling, pulsing as if with life of its own. The blobs ballooned grotesquely, growing larger and larger, throbbing with an independent will ...

TO BE CONTINUED...!!!

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Send e-mail correspondence to badblood51@hotmail.com

OK, you may have noticed that there hasn’t been any new Bad Blood in a while. I needed a little break for the past eight months or so, but rest assured, now that I’m back, there will be plenty more Bad Blood coming your way. It feels good to slip back into the lives of the Big Easy’s premier super-team, but as always, I’m curious as hell about what you, the reader, think of the tales I’m telling here. Feel free to drop a line to badblood51@hotmail.com any time on any subject. Good letters will be printed in this space in future issues. Great letters may affect the course of things to come in future storylines! But first ...

NEXT ISSUE: This day began weirdly enough, but the next few hours for Bad Blood will be completely bizarre! Join us as the stage will be set for Issue #25!