AVENGERS SPOTLIGHT #59
Featuring: The
Falcon
Sam Wilson, then a criminal
nicknamed “Snap”, was altered by the Red Skull’s cosmic cube. He was given a
psychic connection to his hunting hawk, Redwing, and an idealism that made him
the perfect partner for Captain America. Unfortunately for Skull, Wilson didn’t
turn on Cap as was expected. Equipped with a flying rig given to him by The
Black Panther, Sam is now Harlem’s own Hero, and Steve Rogers’ best
friend...The Falcon.
“Opposing Forces: Part One” by Brian A. Seals
{This story takes place after Ghost Rider/Captain America: Fear (1992)
and before Ghost Rider #82. BAS}
A school bus arrived at the corner of Elm and Main. Judy, the bus
aid, watched as the kids exited the bus and crossed the intersection.
“All right let’s go kids. Let’s walk now”, said Judy. “Hey Joseph,
I said walk! Don’t be running across the street like that! Honest to God, that
boy won’t even make it to High School.”
The bus emptied, mostly. Louis the bus driver turned to Judy and
said: “Hey, you wanna help me out here? I still got one in back.” Judy looked
at the ground, shaking her head. Not
again. Please Lord, not today.
Little Benny, six years old, was sitting towards the rear of the bus,
shaking. “What’s wrong now Benny?”
Judy said “Don’t you wanna go home?” The child looked at her, terrified. “Mr.
Brown’s car is gone”, he said. Judy looked over. The tan Lincoln town car, that
was normally in the driveway by Elm and Main, was nowhere to be found.
“Mr. Brown’s not here. I gotta find Mr. Brown” Benny said. ”Look”,
said Judy. “Maybe Mr. Brown caught the train. Maybe his car broke down.
Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s just fine.”
She gave Benny a nudge out of his seat, then ushered him toward
the exit doors. “But-but Mom will be mad if I don’t find him. I gotta find him!”
“He’s probably already inside”,
said Judy. “Go ‘head Benny. Yo mamma’s probably worried sick right now”. She
gave the child a final nudge out of the bus and the doors closed behind him.
The bus drove off, and Little Benny shuffled, nervously, toward home.
The living room had been wrecked. There were magazines, dishes,
beer cans and other garbage everywhere. Benny’s mom was reclining on an easy
chair, wine glass in hand, looking toward a television that was broken, and
overturned. She looked over and Benny froze.
“Wha’... the hell you
doin’ here” she said.
“I was gonna”-he cleared
his throat and tried again. “I was gonna go to my room and then I was gonna go
look for Mr. Brown”. Benny’s mom dropped her glass, letting its contents spill
into the rug, and then she got up slowly. She shambled toward Benny and he
flattened against the wall.
“Don’ hafta worry ‘bout
that now”, she said. “He’s gone, and he’s
not comin’ back!” She hit Benny with a closed fist. The child fell down
hard, and then started crying. She hit him again.
“What am I ‘posed to do, now? What?” Benny covered his head but
the blows kept coming. “No man wants
a woman wit’ baggage. And that’s all you are-baggage. How’m I supposed to live? How’m I supposed to eat
without a man around?”
At the corner of Elm and Main that day you could hear the child’s
loud crying. After a while, you could hear his mom doing the same.
Later in the evening, Benny, in his bedroom, woke to the sound of
his mother’s voice. He shrunk away. “Oh God, look, I’m sorry baby” she said.
“Momma was sick today, okay? I didn’t know what I was doing.
“C’mere, let me see”. She turned Benny’s face around, and then
reeled back slightly. His eyes were swollen and he was badly bruised.
“Oh no.
“I am so sorry, Benny. I swear I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”
Her son pulled away from her, and turned toward the bedroom wall.
“Look, you won’t have to go to school like this, okay? No more
school this week, I promise.” She reached into a toy store bag, and pulled out
a gift. “While you were sleeping, I went out and bought you something” she
said. Benny didn’t turn around.
“It’s a ringleader doll, for your circus. You know-from the Günter
and Co. Line?” Benny didn’t move. “All right, well, I’ll just leave it here on
the bed for you. If you need anything, you let mommy know okay?”
When she left Benny got up. He surveyed the doll through swollen,
teary eyes…The Ringleader. He put the doll on the floor next to all the others:
The Strong Man, The Lion Tamer, The Acrobats, and The Elephants. He picked up
his favorite-The Rubber Man, and walked him over to the newcomer. “Hi”, Benny
said. “I’m The Rubber-Man. Who’re you?
“The Ringleader”, Benny said, the dolls in his hands. “Nice to meet you”.
Harlem- present day:
It’d been a few months since Sam Wilson, better known as
the Falcon, returned from his seeming death, along with the other Avengers, at
the hands of Onslaught. He had been somewhat disoriented and flustered ever
since. It took a while to get back into things. He had to tell the utility
companies that no, he wasn’t dead; he was actually in a different universe for
a while. Yes, he was that Sam Wilson;
though most of them didn’t even know who The Falcon was. Once it sunk in that
he was a superhero, and an inactive Avenger, he spent the
majority of his call-time explaining why he couldn’t send Captain America
autographs via mail.
Once he was back on his feet, however, things fell in line. He
started a private social work firm with a business partner, Carl Johnson, using
money earned from Avenger’s pay. The firm did well, and a week ago, Wilson
& Johnson became state-owned and funded.
“Mr. Wilson?” The voice startled him. Sam looked up from his
newspaper but didn’t see anyone. “Mr. Wilson? Down here.” Sam put his paper
down and peered around his desk. A woman, about three feet, five inches tall,
looked up at him. She was dressed in business wear, a matching sport coat and
skirt. Her tiny digits held a file of paperwork. Sam stared at her, speechless.
“I’m Lynn-Marie Laughton”, she said. “Your ten-thirty?” Sam looked
at his watch. “Yes, right. Sorry Miss Laughton, I guess time just got away from
me.”
“No that’s okay”, she said. “And it’s Missus”.
“You got it”, Sam said. “Please”. He gestured toward the chair
opposite him, and Laughton climbed into it. Sam said: “Is that the forms I
asked for?” She nodded, and handed him the file. Sam flipped through it. “Okay.
Okay. Well, I’ve seen a lot worse”, Sam said, closing the file. “Shoot, I had a lot worse when I was a kid.
“The thing is, Mrs. Laughton”, Sam said. “This is the third time
you’ve been convicted of shoplifting. Your record being what it is, there’s no
way I can convince your p/o to let you leave the state.”
Laughton panicked. “But I have
to leave the state, you don’t understand! Me and my husband run a circus. We
can’t make money if we can’t leave.”
“If you run a circus, why are you stealing?”
“Times got tough”, said
Laughton. “The show wasn’t doing as well as it used to. And you know...You get
accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle.”
“Did Stewart get a job set up for you?” Hugh Stewart was her
parole officer.
“A sh*# job”, she said. “Mopping floors and dumping trash for six-fifty
an hour. I can’t even feed Google, our
monkey, with that kind of money.”
Sam stifled a laugh. “Okay look, you’re good as far as housing
right?”
“We live in tents by our animals. Everything’s mobile.”
“Fine. Don’t move it”, Sam said. “I got a friend that owns a
restaurant on 103rd. It’s called Marco’s Little Italy. You cook?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go there and tell Marco I sent you. He starts at eight per
hour. You do good and keep your hands out of the register, who knows? He may go
up.” Sam rooted through his desk drawer, found a pamphlet and gave it to Mrs.
Laughton. It read: A.C.T. NOW; association Against Compulsive Theft.
“I want you to go to these meetings”, Sam said. “And don’t start
up about how you don’t have a problem. This game is all about appearances, now.
You got to show effort.”
Laughton nodded.
“Look for an apartment too”, said Sam. “Tell your husband to run
the show without you while you work this second job. That’ll keep Google fed. I
can’t promise anything, but if all goes well I’ll give your p/o a call sometime
down the road, see if I can sweet talk him.”
“That’s great”, Laughton said. “That’s really nice.”
“It’s what I do”, Sam said. “Let’s just hope Mr. Stewart’s big on
Avengers trivia and knows who I am.”
Mrs. Laughton smiled and said “If he knows anything about Harlem,
he knows about you. Thank you Mr. Wilson”. She started to leave, but then she
turned around.
“Here”, Laughton said. She went into her sport coat pocket and
pulled out two tickets. “This might be our last show for a while, I don’t know,
but, you’re welcome to come”.
Sam looked at the tickets. “Powell Arena, Brooklyn”, he said. “LML
Circus and Sideshow, huh?”
“Yeah”, Laughton said. “Ben named it after me.”
The ringleader, Charles Günter, was a tall, older gentleman in his
late sixties. Show attendees would see him and whisper “Phantasm” to each
other, giggling to themselves. And so it was on this night. The crowd was
genuinely having a good time.
The spotlight fell on center ring. Günter removed his large top
hat, bowed, and the crowd roared. Replacing his crown, the king of the circus
regarded his audience…
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN”, he said. “GUNTER AND COMPANY PROUDLY
PRESENTS:
“UMMMMMMMBERTO THE UNCANNY!!!!!”
The crowd applauded, and the spotlight swung right. “Umberto” was
wearing a purple ski mask, purple and red bicycle shorts and matching boots;
all of them were studded with rhinestones. This guy wasn’t just slim, he was
grotesquely bony. His collar bone, ribs and pelvic bones all seemed ready to
burst out of his skin at any moment.
The performance, however, was crowd pleasing. He could lie on his
stomach and pull his feet over his head. He actually rolled like a beach ball,
holding that position. When he got up, he wrapped his left leg around his head
and waved his foot at the audience. They loved it. At the end of the segment
Umberto sat, back to the audience, handcuffed and rope bound. He cracked his
knuckles. Then, using triple jointed thumbs, he squeezed out of his handcuffs.
A few pops of the shoulder blades, a shake and a jive later, he was free of the
ropes as well. He was met with a standing ovation.
After the performance, “Umberto the Uncanny” headed back stage. A
three hundred pound man, about six foot four, grabbed him by the throat and
lifted him off his feet. “Hey Benny. How the f*&% are you?” Umberto tried
to mouth something. The Strong Man leaned closer, putting an ear towards the
man’s lips. “What you say, you little faggot?”
“’s Ben”, said Umberto.
“I don’t give a damn what your name is. You keep lookin’ at
Lynn-Marie like you do it’ll be carved on a tombstone.
You hear what I’m tellin’ you?”
He nodded. The Strong Man threw him against the wall, lifted his
chin high, and then backslapped him. He fell to the floor, blood dripping from
his mouth. “That little lady belongs to me”, said The Strong Man. “She needs a
man to protect her, y’hear? A man.
Not a f&^%’n toothpick. You stay away from her. And you keep your mouth shut. Tell Günter about any of this and I’ll kill you.”
Umberto laid there, truly dazed and confused. A few days later,
The Animal Trainer, Antonio, walked into his tent. “Hey Ben. I come to see how
you doin’.” Ben’s jaw was still swollen. “Kay”, he said.
“Yeah, o-k. OK, my a$%”, said Antonio. “I know you don’t tell
Günter who beat you up, but it no big secret amigo. Ol’ Daniel always worry
‘bout his Lynn-Maria.”
Ben glared at Antonio. “Jus’ friends”
he said. “Yeah well, I would not be friendly wit’ her no more, I was you” said
Antonio. Ben looked away.
“Mira”, said Antonio. “You be in this room all day, two days. Come, I show you some-ting.”
Ben followed him outside. There were ten cages on the ground. All
of them were filled with black birds. “Dese are mi amigos. I work wit’ dem for
me next act.” Antonio opened the cages one by one and the birds flew out. Benny
shielded himself from the avian flocks, a bit overanxiously. “No worry. They
trained” said Antonio. “Hold dis”.
He gave Ben a rock, stepped away, then motioned for him to hold it
out. The crows, which had been flying around haphazardly, suddenly coalesced
into a floating black cloud above The Animal Trainer. Antonio gestured,
crooking one finger. One of the crows separated from the murder, and dove at
the rock, cawing. Benny closed his eyes and held his hand far away. A light
brush of feathers and the rock was gone, later dropping into Antonio’s hands.
“Jus’ de start”, he said. “Dey good at keeping tings safe, too. Like people. Like amigos.” Benny looked at him and nodded. “Come on”, said Antonio. “I teach you to talk dey tongue.”
Sam brought his friend Sgt. Tork along to the circus. He was, at
the time, the hottest date Sam could find. Tork was a field supervisor in the
Organized Crime Control Bureau-Narcotics Division, NYPD.
At the moment, Tork was stuffing his face full of popcorn.
“Great”, he said. “Great friggin’ show.” Little kernels clung to his bushy
mustache, and moved along with his lips.
Sam agreed. The night’s entertainment was quality. Lynn-Marie was
actually the Ringmaster. She announced the last event, as she’d done most of
the others, from the shoulders of a man on stilts.
“LADIES AND GENTS, LML’S LAST PERFORMANCE! THE STRONG GUY!!!”
They clapped. Bet it’s not
the mutant, Sam thought. Indeed, the performer was not an X-Force member,
but he was strong regardless. The six foot two, two hundred and thirty pound
Austrian juggled barbells and bench-pressed three lady acrobats at once.
After the show was over Tork leaned over and said: “Hey Sammy, you
gotta work tomorrow?” Sam shook his head. “I make my own hours remember? What
you got in mind?” Tork said ”Let’s get a few beers, I know a place”.
Lax Lounge, Brooklyn.
The bartender said “Last round guys, unless you can find a
driver.”
“What the-wait a minute”, said Tork. “You sayin’ I can’t hold my
liquor?”
“No. I’m saying you can’t hold the steering wheel. Last round.”
Tork chuckled. “Smart a$#. That’s fine. I didn’t pay for this one
no way.”
Sam thought about it. “Hold on. I didn’t pay for this.” The
bartender smiled. “Drinks on her boys”, he said. He nodded his head past them,
and they turned. The woman at the table behind them was draped in shadow. She
was about three-twenty or so, a lot of woman. The large man to her left was The
Austrian Strong Guy. The guy to her right was The Lion Tamer.
When she saw the two of them look over, Miss Three-twenty or so
got up, with some difficulty, and walked through the light toward them. It was
The Bearded Lady from the circus sideshow.
“Oh, you gotta be freakin’ kiddin’ me”, said Tork. Sam started
chuckling. Sure enough, The Bearded Lady pulled out a stool, and sat, again
with some difficulty, right next to Sgt. Tork. “Hi”, she said.
Sam grabbed his mouth with both hands, cracking up behind them.
“Jesus”, Tork said. And then to The Bearded Lady: “Uh, hey, what’s happenin’?”
Sam laughed harder behind his hands. Tork kicked him, trying to be
inconspicuous about it.
“Oh, not much”, she said. “I noticed you at the show, down in
front where you were. Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh yeah. Great show, great friggin’ show”, said Tork. “I
appreciate the beers an’ all, that’s really cool.
If you don’t mind though, I got to go soon. Me and my buddy got to head back
home, and he can’t hold his drink, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, you ask me, I think you both could use a night’s rest”, she
said. “I was actually hoping you’d come back to the arena and-”
Sam laughed loud, tears flowing from his eyes.
“SHUT UP”, said Tork “Yer NOT HELPING here!!” Sam, still laughing,
shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t take it--” Another burst of laughter. Tork
turned back to The Bearded Lady and gave his best, brave smile. “Excuse him.”
“No problem”, she said.
“As you can see”, Tork said, “He’s really the worse fer wear.
‘Preciate the offer and all, but maybe some other time?”
“Aw, c’mon”, she said, rubbing his elbow. “We can put your friend
to bed and you can come to my tent
with me.”
Tork’s eyes widened. “Then
what? You get to borrow my Bic in the morning? I don’t friggin’ think so.”
The bar roared with laughter. Sam, nearly dying, grabbed his sides
in pain. This time however, he couldn’t hear himself over the crowd. They had
an audience. The Bearded lady pulled her hand away from Tork, frowning. Sam
then noticed the muscle bound Austrian, standing right beside him. He stopped
laughing before he knew it.
“I don’t find that very funny”, said the Bearded Lady.
“I don’t find that funny AT
ALL.” She clocked Tork with a right to the side of his face, and he went
down. Before Sam could do anything The Austrian had him in a Full Nelson. He
kicked The Bearded Lady in the midsection before The Strong Guy hurled him over
the bar and into a mirror.
Bottles flew everywhere, and Sam caught one at his temple, while
trying to stand up. When he finally managed it, he had to duck a chair. The
Lion Tamer was fighting the bartender. The Austrian was fighting six guys. Tork
hit The Bearded Lady with a barstool before three guys jumped on him. Sam
jumped onto the bar and flew to aid Tork, grabbing his assailants. While in a
fist fight with three men, skills learned by training with Captain America
become invaluable. Still, a fourth got behind him and he never saw him coming.
Sam went down.
Sam woke with a splitting headache. Bright light rushed into his
eyes, and it didn’t help. He shut them again.
“Mr. Wilson?” It was a female voice. He didn’t recognize it.
Not the Bearded
Lady, thank God.
“Mr. Wilson, can you hear me?”
“Can you turn the light down”, Sam said.
“Sure.”
After a moment the light ebbed. Sam opened his eyes, a minute or
two passed and the world came into focus. He was in a hospital room, lying on a
hard mattress. The wallpaper was pink, ornate with flower motifs. The carpet
was mauve. It was the kind of setting you put a crazy man in, he thought, to
calm the hysterics.
The woman was in her sixties. Her hair was grey and cut short; her
face was serious. There was no makeup on her face, or earrings in her ears. “Mr.
Wilson, I’m Doctor McDyse”, she said.
Sam said “How’d I get here?”
“You were found, lying unconscious, somewhere in Brooklyn. Someone
recognized you and called an ambulance. They traveled, out of their way, to
bring you here.”
“And that is...?”
“Harlem Medical Facility.”
I’m home, Sam
thought. He sat up. “Is Tork here?”
“Mr. Wilson, you should really stay in bed. You’ve suffered
numerous lacerations, bruises, and a minor concussion.”
“I had a friend with me. We were in a fight. Sgt. Tork, NYPD. Is he here?”
“I didn’t treat a Sgt. Tork”, said McDyse. “Though”, she said. “I
did receive this, not long after you arrived.”
McDyse passed him an envelope. FALCON was printed on the front in
permanent marker. He tore it open and read it quickly.
“Who the hell is Ben Laughton?”
McDyse said “Excuse me?”
“Sorry. Talking to myself. Look, my friend’s in trouble. I gotta
go.”
“Mr. Wilson, moving now will only exacerbate your condition.”
“I’ve lived through at lot worse than a concussion, thanks anyway.
Just give me your card. I’ll call later and settle the bill.”
“There is no medical bill”, said McDyse. She took a moment to analyze Sam’s look, then added: “Didn’t you hear me? You’re back in Harlem.”
Sam’s apartment, Harlem.
Sam Wilson donned the outfit and flying rig that marked him as The
Falcon. He went to a large cage in one corner of his bedroom, and opened it.
Redwing, a hunting hawk that was more of a partner than a pet, flew out and
landed on Falcon’s shoulder. He would need the psychic link between them
tonight.
The Falcon found his jeans and took out his wallet. He dug for
awhile, and found his Avengers communicard. It’d been a long time since he used
the thing, but there was no answer at Steve’s apartment, which usually meant he
was out of town.
Using a toothpick, he hit a few sensors on the card. The little
screen that serves as a visual communicator blinked on. In a minute, Steve
Roger’s face was inside of it. It was partly covered in his well known blue
cowl; the ‘A’ on the forehead area and the small wings above his ears confirmed
that he wasn’t on a pleasure trip. He was off somewhere doing what Captain
America does.
“Sorry Cap, you got a minute.”
“A short minute, but yeah. What’s going on Falcon?”
“You ever heard of a Ben Laughton?”
“Ben Laughton? Hmm. I
don’t know, maybe.”
“Remember Sgt. Tork”, said Falc. Cap nodded. The three of them
hung out from time to time, when Captain America and the Falcon were in more of
a permanent partnership.
“He’s being held ransom by this guy Laughton. I haven’t seen him
yet but he’s got ties to this circus. LML, it’s called.”
“A circus”, Cap said. “You know this for sure?”
“Well, he’s married to a midget, the Ring Leader. And I got into a
fight with his friend The Bearded Lady,
last night.”
Cap raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t spread that around.” He paused a moment. “Falc, I know a Ben Laughton,
come to think of it. And so do you.”
“What?”
Günter and Company Circus: Ten Years ago
Daniel, The Strong Man, entered Ben’s tent. Lynn-Marie followed after
him.
“I thought I told you to stay away!”
“Dan”, said Lynn-Marie. “He didn’t do any-“
“SHUT UP”, said The Strong Man. “Keep out of this!” Lynn-Marie
screamed as The Strong Man grabbed Ben by the shoulders.
“What did you think? I wouldn’t find out little Benny? You thought
I wouldn’t find out, you little sh^&!”
Ben raised a hand. “What”, said The Strong Man. “Make it good!”
Ben curled his fist, cracking his fingers. Cawing sounds, first
soft and then very loud, filled the air. What seemed like the sound of a flock
of birds, flying outside of the tent became more and more indicative of a
hurricane. All around the tent, unseen forces poked the fabric inward. Daniel
let go of his captive. He didn’t feel so strong.
“One”, said Ben. “She just stopped by to see how bad you beat me up the last time.”
The tent burst open. Hundreds of crows filled the space.
Lynn-Marie cried out but they flew past her. Daniel started screaming; they
were tearing at his flesh. He tried flailing at them, but they seemed to be
everywhere. He got five steps outside the tent before collapsing.
The crows fed on him. His screaming stopped. Lynn-Marie’s screams
lasted much longer.
“And two: Don’t call me BENNY”.
Brooklyn, Present day.
The Falcon flew toward the arena, as fast as his wings could take
him. He sent a signal back to Redwing, telling him to keep up. He couldn’t
afford to slow down. Along the way, he kept going over his past conversation,
cursing at himself for his faulty memory.
“You remember when we faced the Cowled Commander, way back when”,
Cap had said. “He had a crew with him. The Porcupine, The Plant Man and a few
others?”
“Yeah”, said Falcon.
“Remember the masked man with the murder of crows? That’s the guy.
Ebenezer Laughton...The Scarecrow.”
END OF PART ONE
Got any comments for me? (As in, you suck/you’re great, change
this/ change that)
By all means send them here
And remember, I’m a rookie.