Last
Issue: Aquaman investigated
an attempt on his life. He
encountered Cannon, an assassin for hire. After a brief fight in a
helicopter over New York, he forced the villain out of the chopper, but
was unable to keep the helicopter from crashing onto the roof.
Meanwhile, the Good Samaritan discovers that the Director of the ASA is
acting in bad faith with the government. On clues from Amanda Waller,
he sanctions the Director and takes his place. While investigating the
files, he discovers something that sends him racing to New York.
Shot numerous times, muscles aching from pulling the helicopter back
onto the roof, Aquaman prepared to take Cannon down…only to
have
Nation interfere, knocking him around, freeing Cannon to escape.
The cover shot is: The red, white, and blue American flag-costumed
agent Nation dangling Aquaman, in his blue, white, and black wave
pattern uniform, over a 20-story drop… New
York, Ten
minutes ago:
A U. S. Navy F-16, carrying the Good Samaritan, banked in toward
Kennedy. Using the special clearance beamed ahead from the Pentagon,
the pilot jumped the line of passenger jets, putting the whole airport
into a holding pattern for the five minutes it took him to come in from
the outer markers to the runway.
CHURT!
CHURT! The plane’s
tires touched down on the tarmac at Kennedy.
The pilot taxied across the airport to a private terminal.
All
other traffic was moved and re-routed out of the ferrying
pilot’s
way.
A nondescript, black four door sedan sat idling at the base of a
cockpit gantry that had been rolled out. The pilot taxied the plane to
a stop on the mark next to the gantry.
While the pilot was still working on shutting the plane down, the Good
Samaritan in his white flight suit was already climbing from the plane.
“Thanks for the flight, Lieutenant,” he said,
tossing a
salute at the pilot as he turned toward the waiting car.
A lanky kid in a jarhead hair cut, clearly uncomfortable out of uniform
stood next to the car. “Mr. Samaritan, sir?” he
questioned,
standing at parade rest with the rear driver’s side door open
at
the bottom of the gantry.
“Yes,” the man in white said, stepping clear of the
cockpit
gantry, around the open door and continuing around to the passenger
side of the car. His laptop under his arm and his rucksack over his
shoulder, he slid into the passenger side, front seat of the car
without further preamble.
With a shrug, the young soldier shut the door and climbed in the car.
Gesturing out the windshield, Samaritan said,
“Let’s
go,” as he was powered up his laptop.
“Where to, sir?” The kid asked, driving across the
tarmac
to the street access gate.
The Samaritan’s laptop screen showed a jumbled, confused mesh
of
lines. “The comm. systems at the airport are interfering with
my
tracking signals,” he said, “Get us out of the
airport and
I’ll have a direction for you before we merge into
traffic.”
“Roger that,” the young private responded. He
didn’t
know who this guy was, but from the way his CO had acted when the call
had come down for a driver, he had to have a helluva lot of the right
kind of pull. Glancing back at the parked F-16 Falcon that the pilot
was just climbing down from, he put the car in gear.
“…a
hell of a lot of pull,” he thought.
Five minutes later, using the VIP exit, the sedan pulled out onto the
I-678 headed north, crossing the 27, the Good Samaritan said,
“Get me onto Manhattan and we’ll figure our way
around.” He glanced up. “Let’s get up to
Grand
Central Parkway and take us into the City across the Triboro
Bridge.”
Shaking his head, the Samaritan said in sotto voce, “I should
have arranged for a helicopter into the city.” He tabbed
through
pages on the laptop, looking at all the missions and scenarios the
previous, and, now deceased, Director of the American Security Agency
had had his grubby little fingers into.
New
York City: 17.76
miles to the East:
The crowded street filled with people. It happened most times when the
power went down. Spontaneous block parties and meet and greets breaking
out. If outsiders could see this happen, they’d have a
different
opinion of what a New Yorker was really like.
The building on the north side of the street was without power as well
as the buildings on both sides of it. The south side of the street
still had power.
They had seen the helicopter flying around up there and had heard the
gunfire, but they figured the two weren’t related. Whoever
heard
of someone shooting from a helicopter in the middle of the city.
Near the street entrance, a woman stepped from a cab, reaching back in
to pay the driver. He popped the trunk open from inside so she could
retrieve her grocery bags.
Turning toward her building, she noticed that all the lights were out.
Glancing upward, her mouth gaped open. Her bags fell to the
street…and she screamed.
20 stories above the ground, Aquaman dangled out over the precipitous
drop. Nation’s hand held him there by his throat.
Nation stood backlit by a large Coca-Cola sign, two buildings.
Nation’s uniform was an American flag. Shoulders, chest, and
arms
clad in blue with white stars. His lower torso and legs striped in red
and white.
The agent of the American Security Agency held Aquaman unwaveringly in
his steel grip. His suit’s exoskeleton enhanced his strength.
“Nation, what are you doing?” Arthur croaked out,
trying to
close his fingers on the arm holding him and failing as the oxygen in
his lungs burned away.
“I think you might be able to survive the fall,”
Nation
said in a flat toned voice. “Better I hold you here until you
lose consciousness and, then, you won’t be able to survive
your
fall.”
As Aquaman tried to force breath past Nation’s chokehold, he
stared into Nation’s dead seeming eyes. As an ache built in
his
head, he noticed two small wire leads running out of the neck of
Nation’s uniform and penetrating his neck.
Still struggling for breath, Aquaman closed his eyes and concentrated.
He appeared almost to be praying. Invisibly, a telepathic force
broadcast out from him in concentric waves, reaching out toward the
seashore and the riverbanks of the New York City area.
10
miles away:
The Good Samaritan stared at the screen on his laptop as PFC Terrazo
drove.
The locator circuit in Nation’s uniform emitted a fuzzy
carrier
wave, making it nearly impossible to lock down. On the screen, a blob
roughly two blocks by two blocks marked the area around
Nation’s
location.
As the sedan crossed the Triboro Bridge, Samaritan clicked on the
police band radio.
A report about a localized power outage and helicopter forced down on a
city rooftop was being repeated. The report, also, stated that
meta-humans were believed to be involved.
A moment later, an additional report about shots fired in the vicinity
of the first incident came across.
He gave PFC Terrazo the address. He said, “I need to be there
ten
minutes ago.”
20
stories above the New York pavement;
Nation held Aquaman by his neck, dangling out over the parapet. A
dizzying view of the city below swung below Aquaman’s feet.
Aquaman glared at his attacker. “Nation,” he asked,
“have you ever seen any Hitchcock movies?”
A squawking, feathered storm of sea birds stuck Nation, knocking him
and Aquaman back onto the roof.
The horde of birds pecked and clawed at Nation, tearing holes in his
uniform and exposing some of his exoskeleton’s wiring and
circuitry.
20
stories below;
The sedan, carrying the Good Samaritan and PFC Terrazo, skidded to a
halt. The passenger door snapped open before the car had stopped moving.
Samaritan leaped from the car, glancing at the building. His eyes
trailed upward.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Noting the approach of two news vans, he turned to PFC Terrazo, who
stood in the driver’s side door of the car. “Get
out of
here. Thanks for the ride, Private,” he said, grabbing his
ruck
as he ran for the entrance of the building. On
the roof;
“AAARRGGH!” Nation groaned as he flashed an aura of
electrical energy, driving Aquaman’s sea birds off of
him…those that he didn’t fry instantly.
A stink of flash fried seagull washed across the rooftop.
Nation rose and stalked toward Aquaman.
Aquaman found his feet and moved to meet his red, white, and blue-clad
attacker.
THOOM!
They
stuck each other like two Sumo wrestlers. Energy crackled in
Nation’s gauntleted hands. Streams of lightning washed over
Aquaman’s shoulders.
Aquaman’s sea born strength proved too much for
Nation’s
exoskeleton, knocking him backwards as he fought through the cascading
electrical energy discharge.
CRACK!
Aquaman hit Nation with
a roundhouse.
POW!
Aquaman backhanded Nation
with a closed fist, driving the American Security Agent backwards, not
giving him a moment to think.
The
lobby;
Samaritan raced into the lobby of the building. His white flight suit
reflected in the floor to ceiling mirrors interspersed with dark oak
panels. As he approached the elevators, he heard the chime as a car
arrived from above.
Stepping aside, he hid himself in an alcove, so that the
car’s
occupant wouldn’t see him. He watched as a man in a green on
green spandex suit with a heavily padded set of shoulder pads covering
his upper torso stepped from the car.
Samaritan allowed the man to exit the elevator and the doors to slide
shut behind him, before stepping from concealment.
“Cannon,” he thought, “so the former
Director’s
hatchet man did put in an appearance after all.”
Cannon, not sensing that someone was behind him, reached to grab a
trenchcoat from a corner coat rack.
SLAM!
CRACK! SLAP! The Good
Samaritan hit him as he shrugged into the coat, fist to the stomach,
chicken winged Cannon’s shoulder, and delivered a roundhouse
to
the side of his head.
The already worse for wear Cannon folded. The crash of the helicopter,
the fight with Aquaman, and, now, the Samaritan proved too much. He
crumped forward, out cold.
Samaritan punched the up button for the elevator. As the elevator door
opened, he forced Cannon’s unconscious form back into the
car,
stepped over him, and hit the button for the top floor.
As the elevator doors slid shut, Samaritan saw the news vans pull to a
stop through the lobby’s heavy leaded glass windows.
The
roof;
Aquaman stood over Nation. Breathing heavily, Arthur hoped the man
would stay down.
TE-ZAK! Nation funneled a mass of electrical energy into Aquaman,
blasting him across the roof to slide up against the helicopter.
Shaking the charge off, Aquaman stood. “If that’s
the best
you’ve got, you’re in for a long night,
son,” the
soon to be former King of Atlantis said as he advanced on his attacker
again.
The
street;
From the street below, lightning-like flashes could be seen bleeding
over the edges of the roof.
“This is Tully Reed for WGBS Meta News,” a reporter
in a
brown suit stated. “From what we’ve been able to
piece
together, Aquaman is fighting an unknown in an American flagged
uniform. From the descriptions we have gathered, we can safely say that
it is not Uncle Sam, the Americommando, General Glory, or Agent
Liberty.”
“This could be related to the attack on the Davidson Hotel
earlier tonight. We have confirmed that that earlier attack centered on
Aquaman’s suite. The room was destroyed by a rocket propelled
grenade of some sort,” Tully said into the camera.
He glanced skyward. The camera followed his gaze. The roof seemed to be
sheathed in lightning as Nation pressed his attacks. The crashed
helicopter sat near the edge of the roof.
“We’ll get back to you as soon as we have something
else to
report,” Tully promised. “This is Tully Reed for
WGBS Meta
News.”
The
roof;
The elevator door opened. The Samaritan pushed Cannon out onto the
roof, punching the buttons to send the elevator back down. A cell phone
pressed to his ear. “I need transport for
four…” He
trailed off.
Standing before him, he saw a heavily breathing Aquaman. In one hand,
the King held the crumped remains of Nation’s exoskeleton. In
the
other, he held Nation by the scruff of his costume’s
neckpiece.
Aquaman nodded towad Cannon. “So, are you next? Or are you
here
to help clean up?” Aquaman asked through clenched teeth as
his
chest heaved.
Samaritan’s hands went up in a surrender gesture. In a
placating
voice, he said, “Neither I nor the U. S. government
sanctioned
this. A rogue was sitting in one of the Agency chairs. He has been
dealt with,” Samaritan explained.
Aquaman gestured at Nation. “And he was under this
rogue’s
control?” He asked.
“Yes,” Samaritan explained. “And this
one,” he
gestured at Cannon, “was hired. Apparently, there was a price
on
your head and the rogue saw a way to refurbish his home and take a nice
vacation on the proceeds.”
Arthur turned a rueful eye on the white suited man standing before him.
“I take it this “rogue” won’t
be taking
vacations for the foreseeable future?”
“No, your majesty, he won’t,” Samaritan
responded.
“Good,” Aquaman said, dropping Nation’s
exoskeleton
to the rooftop tarmac. Then, he lowered Nation more gently to the roof.
“Will you be able to free him from the rogue’s
control?” He asked.
Samaritan nodded. “I believe so. The synapse control system
won’t be in the newer versions of his exoskeleton,”
he
explained.
“I would be interested in how you got it off of
him?”
Samaritan asked.
Arthur shrugged. “Once I got it started it was sort of like
shucking an oyster, he came out of it easily enough. All the electrical
power he was throwing out, just couldn’t compare to playing
with
the eels back in Atlantis,” he explained.
A distant helicopter could be heard coming in.
“Our ride is almost here,” Samaritan said. He
turned,
pulling an aerosol can from his ruck sack. He sprayed it under
Cannon’s nose. “With any luck, he’ll wake
up in jail
and only remember you beating his ass,” he explained.
“Any idea who would want to assassinate you?”
Samaritan
asked.
Aquaman shrugged. “I’ve been causing quite a bit of
trouble
for some of the established power structures in Atlantis. I think it
might be part of their trying to disrupt the election,” he
said,
watching the helicopter approach.
Samaritan nodded. “We managed to find a large sum of money
that
was transferred from an Atlantean account in the Caymans to a Swiss
bank account,” he explained. “A very large sum.
Large
enough that the former Director and Cannon won’t be the only
ones
trying to collect.”
Samaitan left out any mention of the former Director gathering
Atlantean DNA samples. Better that that remain a secret.
The helicopter came in hovering over the edge of the roof until the
Samaritan gave the proper signal.
Over the wash of the helicopter’s rotors, Samaritan said,
“I have been asked to relay a message to you from the
President.
I quote, “Your majesty, if it would be possible could you
please
wrap up your business in the United States quickly so that whatever is
going on with these assassination attempts will leave our shores with
you,” end quote.”
Aquaman smiled, grimly.
The
next day;
Atlantean UN Ambassador Triolus Brim stood before the General Assembly,
delivering his speech.
“A new day is dawning beneath the waves. Democracy and
freedom
are alive,” Brim said, “and spreading.”
King Arthur Orin Curry stood in full Atlantean ceremonial dress near
the back of the VIP area. He glanced around at the audience in the
large chamber.
A man in the upper balcony caught Arthur’s eye. The man wore
a
dazzling, white suit, white shirt, and white tie.
Imperceptibly to anyone else, the two acknowledged each other.
At the end of Lord Brim’s speech, he escorted Arthur back to
his
ride home.
“I’m glad that you decided to accept this position.
I thank
you for your service to Atlantis,” Arthur said. Then, in the
way
of the surface men, he offered his hand to Brim to shake.
As they shook hands, he said, “Thank you, Triolus. I
won’t
forget your service.”
“Thank you, my king,” Lord Brim responded, bowing
his head.
Arthur smiled. “For now, soon the election will change
Atlantis.
And I’ll just be another citizen,” he said.
Arthur launched the Atlantean Travel Bubble from the UN parking
structure and set course for home.
Lord Triolus Brim, Atlantean United Nations Ambassador, watched the
bubble disappear into the waters of the East River.
“You’ll
never be just another citizen,” he said quietly with a bit of
reverence in his voice.
The information that the American Security Agency and the Good
Samaritan provided about Atlantean money paying for the assassination
attempts weighed heavily on Aquaman’s mind as the miles
splashed
by between New York City and Poseidonis…
