WEST COAST AVENGERS

WEST COAST AVENGERS # 108

MV1 August, Year 3

And there came a day ... HAWKEYE! WONDER MAN! TIGRA! US AGENT! CANNONBALL? These are the WEST COAST AVENGERS!

Previously … After a hard fought win against the Crimson Cowl’s Masters of Evil, Hawkeye and the Whackos regrouped to put down a roster. The end result left the WCA with the following: Hawkeye as Chairman with Wonder Man, US Agent and Tigra as full-time Avengers. Living Lightning, sighting his wish to devote his time to finishing college, remains a reserve Avenger. Jolt and Shape have been invited to stay at the Compound, but neither hold Avengers status. After aiding the former New Mutant and X-Man Cannonball capture the villain Slyde, Hawkeye, with the full support of Tigra, Agent and Wonder Man, offered Cannonball a place on the roster.

A small freighter pulled into it’s port, ready to unload it’s cargo. There were no workers dockside, not at this hour. The cargo, which the ship’s registry said consisted of cocoa beans, bananas and pottery, could mostly wait until morning.

Two men, dressed in black, slid open the large garage doors of a warehouse. Two more men sat inside a large flatbed truck and backed the vehicle up to the ship. As the warehouse doors were closed, a fifth man moved a crane into position above the deck of the ship, and hoisted up a large, wooden stack of crates that was waiting on deck.

As the boxes were lifted off the deck and onto the flatbed truck, three of the shiphands on board the ship cursed the fates, resigned to watching the crates strapped down and covered with a green tarp.

The five men in black boarded the flatbed truck and disappeared into the San Diego night.

"So, did a big fight go down here, or did the Thing lose a card game?" Samuel Guthrie, the hero known as Cannonball, asked as he looked around the damaged grounds of the Compound.

"Masters of Evil," Tigra, US Agent and Hawkeye said with a sigh as they sat down by the circular table inside the main meeting room.* The Compound was damaged, not to the point where they couldn’t use it, but in definite need of repair.

"So this guy gets to join up but I can’t?" came the accusatory voice of the former Thunderbolt, Jolt, real name, Hallie Takahama. "Gimme a break, this guy can’t be much older than me."

"Cannonball, meet Jolt," Hawkeye sighed, pointing to the diminutive teen-ager. "And, FYI, young lady," he leveled a finger at Hallie, "Cannonball isn’t sure he even wants to sign up, so you’re both here officially as trainees. Nothing more. Neither of you have Avengers status."

"But he can just say yes and he’s in, right? But I’ve got to earn my keep?" Jolt seethed.

"Look, Jolt," Hawkeye said, exasperated. "Cannonball’s been in this game a long time now. He’s been a member of the New Mutants, X-Force and the X-Men. The only group you’ve been a part of is the Thunderbolts - a criminal group led by Baron Zemo I needn’t remind anyone. Forgive me for not rolling out the red carpet for you like we’ve done with Cannonball - a respected hero."

"Huh," Jolt’s eyes burned holes at Hawkeye. "According to the US government, I’ve been a member of a criminal group, yeah, I admit that. But," she accused, pointing at Cannonball, "he’s been a member of three."

"Wonderful," Hawkeye groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Nothing better than twisted logic. Remind me never to have kids …"

Imagine that you were Simon Williams, the long-time Avenger known as Wonder Man and you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

Imagine that the woman you love with every fiber of your being, Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, doesn’t love you. Worse, she doesn’t love anybody, apparently, so the part of your heart that you had set aside for Wanda has continued to keep a single candle of hope burning bright.

If she only loved somebody, at least you could deal with the notion that Wanda would rather be with him, as opposed to you. But since she’s with no one … that meant, given a choice between you and nothing, she chose nothing.

Would you want to continue with this whole Avenging thing where every turn, every face, somehow reminded you of that?

Hawkeye, Tigra, US Agent and Cannonball sat around the center table, getting the Avengers business for the day out of the way.

"Okay, then," Hawkeye shook his head, "now that Jolt’s made her point - whatever it was - let’s finish off the business at hand."

"Sounds good," Hawkeye smiled. "I’ll make the call as soon as we’re done. First thing, Cannonball-"

"You don’t need to do that," Hawkeye quickly pointed out. "Revealing secret IDs isn’t part of the Avengers Charter."

"Doesn’t matter," Sam shrugged. "All the X-Men know who ah am, and ah don’t wear a mask. Besides," he smiled, "Cannonball takes too long to say. Name’s Sam Guthrie."

Introductions were made around the table, and Hawkeye and US Agent couldn’t help but smile as they pulled off their masks. "Damn things are a pain," Agent cracked, but the sentiment was real.

"Okay, then," Clint got back to business, "Sam’s officially just a guest until he makes up his mind. You can stay in one of the bungalows outside, or one of the rooms inside. Just take a look around and let us know."

"Just stay clear of Mopey’s room," Tigra joked about the missing Wonder Man, her eyes sparkling at Sam.

"Second matter is this card that Slyde handed us," Clint continued, dropping the card on the center table. "It reads: ‘THE ENLIGHTENMENT FOUNDATION: Prepare for the End.’ Thoughts on the group?"

"Slyde’s a member, we needn’t worry," Agent quipped, then continued more seriously. "We can input the data into the records and run checks with the usual suspects: SHIELD, Interpol, the FF, the X-Men if they’re playing nice today," he smiled at Sam, "and so on. See if there’s anything that matches the name or the style of the EF."

"Sounds good," Clint nodded. "Third, I don’t think it’s too much to say that we’ve got roster concerns. Wonder Man’s our only heavy hitter, and it’s clear he’s not operating at his best. The three of us, while unbelievably great at what we do," Clint grinned, "aren’t bastions of power. Skill counts, but it’s not a bad idea to have some big guns, too. Not to mention a scientist."

"Most ex-Avengers are tied up somewhere," Agent continued. "Between the East Coast branch, the Champions, Force Works, the Crusaders, the Defenders, She-Hulk was with the FF for awhile, Pietro and Crystal are leading the Knights of Wundagore … it’s becoming a crowded ball-field out there."

"Right, and when you combine that with the ex-Avengers that aren’t around - like Starfox - or have moved onto other things - like Swordsman and Magdalene - it’s no wonder we’re having a hard time filling our roster slots." Clint shook his head. "Let’s run a check to see who’s out there - there’s gotta be a couple older Avengers willing to come back and serve. Any other suggestions on possible roster additions?"

"We could ask Thor about another Asgardian," Agent offered. "They’ve got some power."

"That’s a thought," Hawkeye nodded. "The Lady Sif might make a good Avenger. Sam, anyone you can suggest from the x-portions of the world?"

"Ah can call around and do some checking, if you’d like. Ah hear X-Force has regrouped, and the X-Men are always in a state of flux, but ah can check." *

* For the latest on X-FORCE, check out the just launched X-FORCE on the Four Corners Branch. à Dropping a Hint Mark …

"Enough, guys," Tigra whined while still managing to smile. "It’s late, I’m hungry."

"Okay, okay, so noted. Meeting adjourned. Feel free to take in the grounds, Sam. And Tigra," Clint smiled, "keep your paws off him."

Tigra smiled back widely and walked away, not needing to turn around to know that there were three sets of eyes on her furry backside.

To be outside was to sweat. To sweat was to invite the smog to stick to your skin.

Five men, dressed in black were outside this night, sweating, their skin becoming acquainted with the grime of a dirty city. They did not complain, or even notice the heat. They had a job to do and they would do it.

They had parked their truck next to an abandoned warehouse and were busy entering and exiting the building, carrying the load in piece-mail from truck to grimy floor.

When they were done, one of the five walked to a phone that hung on the far wall of the warehouse. He picked up the phone and dialed the number that was engraved in his memory. A voice on the other hand answered, "Allo?"

"The package of snowflakes have been delivered. Tell Councilman Proctor to make the payments to the Panamanian account."

The five men in black boarded the flatbed truck and disappeared into the Los Angeles night.

"Yep. I’m looking for the guy with the white hair. He’s probably frowning," Hawkeye grinned at the large monitor screen above him. He wanted to get away from the Compound for a bit, but first he figured he might as well put a call in to Quicksilver and Crystal. * "You’re one of Knights of Wundagore, right?"

"I am, sir. My name is Sir Delphis," answered the High Evolutionary-evolved dolphin. "I’m a scientist, so you can imagine my despair at being forced to partake in monitor duty."

"Without being too rude, Sir Hawkeye," Delphis leaned closer to the screen and lowered his voice, "I can only hope you have plans to ask Sir Quicksilver to rejoin the Avengers. I fear that, despite his noble intentions, he’s not happy here."

"Oh, yes. When he was reunited with his wife, he was quite pleasant. * But now … he is a complex man, Sir Hawkeye. Due to the nature of his powers, he sees the world in slow motion, so it’s only natural that his attention span would seem to be short, when matched up with the rest of ours. But it’s more than that … he feels … stifled, I think. There’s not much to do here, not enough to keep him busy, at the least. I believe he needs the challenges a situation like being in the Avengers affords him. It keeps him occupied."

Hawkeye said nothing for a bit, thinking. "Poor guy. I don’t think we realize often enough just how difficult life must be for Pietro. Not that it excuses him for being an ass half the time," Hawkeye grinned.

"Well, let him know I called, will you?" Hawkeye asked. "Tell him I need to talk to him."

"One more thing," Hawkeye added. "Tell him it’s Avengers business. Let’s see if that gets a reaction out of him."

"Yeah, yeah, we all do shiny-top," Agent mumbled. "We just don’t announce it every other bite."

"Hey, leave him alone," Tigra purred, rubbing a furry hand over Shape’s bald head. She winked at Agent, "Besides, Jack, the more he tells us how much he likes it, the less he eats."

Jack nearly fell off the couch he was laughing so hard, "You kill me, Tigra!" Sam and Tigra chuckled to themselves, enjoying the hot pizza.

"It’s too bad Hawk- ah mean, Clint - couldn’t be here," said Sam around a mouthful of cheese.

"Aw, that old man?" Jack scoffed. "He said he needed some down time and couldn’t join us. Said we should all try to spend some time away from this place to keep ourselves grounded. You ask me," Jack said off-handedly, "it’s because this place still reminds him of Bobbi. And he’s still not over her."

Two things were about to happen. Sam was going to ask who Bobbi was and Jack was going to ask why he shouldn’t bring it up. Neither happened because, at that moment, the phone rang.

"I got it," Jack mumbled, stomping over to the phone. "What we need is a bright, shiny red phone like Commissioner Gordon used to have. Yeah, Aveng-," Jack’s face went dead serious.

"Dunno," she responded, taking the opportunity to slide a little closer to Sam. She made sure to brush her tail up against the back of his legs and delighted in the slight start he gave. "It’s gotta be a personal call, though. We’re not supposed to give out the non-security phone numbers. Everything’s supposed to come through the switchboard."

Agent’s face was stone cold serious. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir. I realize that, sir. You did the right thing, sir, reaching me at this number instead of the normal channels. Absolutely, sir. It’ll be taken care of. Yes, sir, the Avengers will be there. No room in my city for scum, sir."

Jack hung up the phone and stared hard at Tigra and Sam. "Get your gear on. Meet me at the Hangar in five minutes."

"What’s up?" Tigra asked, but Jack was already out the door. "Hey, shouldn’t we call Clint?" she called after him.

Sam looked at Tigra, his eyebrows raised, "That happens a lot here, doesn’t it?"

"Oh yes," Tigra smiled. "It’s tradition. Check this one out," she purred low as she turned and headed out the room, her tail wiggling back and forth, like a cobra in the thralls of a snake charmer.

The doors of a debilitated warehouse busted wide open, US Agent the man to blame.

"What the hell is this?" he boomed to the one man standing by a group of wooden crates.

"Who am I?" Agent growled as he strode into the building. "I’m the US Agent, pal and we’re the West Coast Avengers. The real question is who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I’m Councilman Michael Proctor," the man answered with confidence despite the fact that Agent towered over him. "This warehouse is owned by my charity group, Helping Hands, and I was trying to figure out what these large crates are doing here when you illegally broke in. I got a call-"

"I know you, Proctor. Mr. Big Shot on the city council. Got all these fancy ideas about improving the inner cities. What you’re telling me, is that you’re the man in charge, Councilman?" Agent asked, scorn in his voice. "Wonder Man, check the crates."

Simon sighed, but walked to the large wooden crates, oblivious to the look of concern on Tigra and Cannonball’s face.

"This is an illegal search," the Councilman protested, staring up into Jack’s hardened face.

"We’re the Avengers, pal," Agent answered, his voice strong and confident. "And if that’s what I think it is in those crates, you’re going away for a long time. Councilman." Agent nearly spit out the last word. Sam thought he might deck the smaller man and unconsciously prepared to stop Agent if he tried anything.

"Looks like your tip was right," Simon cut in from an open crate. "Cocaine. All the way."

"You sure?" Agent asked, smiling at the Councilman, who stood there with a shocked look on his face. Agent and Councilman Proctor didn’t even realize a news crew had entered the building through the open door Agent had kicked in.

"I’m not going to taste it, Agent," Simon scolded, "but I’ve been to enough Hollywood parties to have a pretty good idea that this stuff is the goods."

"It’s not mine," Proctor protested, suddenly noticing the camera crew. "Hey, you can’t be in here, either! This is an illegal search!"

A lithe female pushed herself closer to US Agent. "This is Carla Gregory reporting live from the scene of an abandoned warehouse in Los Angeles. Acting on a tip provided to the Super Channel by an anonymous source, we’ve arrived just in time to see the West Coast Avengers discover what appears to be crate loads of cocaine being stored in this warehouse that Councilman Proctor had bought and planned to turn into a community recreation center."

Agent looked right into the camera as he grabbed the Councilman. "Councilman Michael Proctor, I, US Agent, leader of the West Coast Avengers places you under arrest for the possession of cocaine with the intent to sell. Nothing wrong with fixing up the neighborhoods, Councilman, but selling drugs to do it makes me sick. You’re busted."

As Agent led the protesting man away to the sirens that had begun to flash outside the warehouse, Sam and Tigra exchanged nervous glances.

"Hooray for the good guys?" Sam asked Tigra and Wonder Man. "Why do ah not feel good?"

"Cause someone just used us as stooges," Wonder Man answered angrily, showing a rare sign of life. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish Clint was here. Where the heck is he, anyways?" Simon asked, looking around as if he just realized Hawkeye wasn’t there.

"No idea," Tigra answered evenly. * "But I don’t like that Agent didn’t call him and I don’t like how he just referred to himself as leader of the West Coast Avengers."

"Hawkeye’s going to be ripping when he gets back," Sam sighed. "Even ah can guess that."

Councilman Michael Proctor sat with his head slumped into his hands inside a jail cell. He couldn’t believe what had happened. Who would frame him with that cocaine? In the rec center-to-be, of all places.

"Bad news, Michael," Proctor’s attorney, Thomas Reilly relayed to his client. "They have the cocaine in your warehouse, that you knew. But …" he looked at papers he’d only recently been handed, "they’ve got a phone call coming to the Helping Hands Project, traced back to that warehouse. Worse, there was a tap on the phone and they have an unidentified voice telling someone pretty clearly that a shipment of cocaine has arrived. If you’ve got any bright ideas, I suggest you use them on your phone call."

Councilman Proctor sighed as he rose from his chair. He picked up the phone that the police had left on the small desk in the room. A phone in Harlem rang three times before there was an answer.

"Hello," came the groggy voice. "And this better be good, it’s almost three in the morni-"

"Gotcha," the voice in NYC answered. "I’ll be on a plane first thing." Sam Wilson hung up the phone and walked to his closet to pack. Michael Proctor was one of the finest men he knew and it he was in trouble, Sam was going to do everything he could to help him.

Hrm … guess that roster isn’t finalized yet, is it? <g> Quite a bit of mail came in for 107 - a pleasant and nice surprise - so let’s get right into the letters. Fittingly, the first letter printed is from the previous writer of this series.

DINGDINGDINGDING!!! We have a winner! Award the No-Prize to Scooter! Yes, it’s true, my first letter printed in a comic was in none other than WCA # 14. But Scott says his first letter was printed in WCA, as well … so we’ll make that our next contest! Anyone who can tell me (and I don’t know, so beez will have to help us out ;-) when Scott’s letter was printed gets another No-Prize!

Glad you like the inclusion of Cannonball. I had him dibbed for another project, but when that fell through, this seemed like a natural fit. As for my plans with Jolt … chances are our plans aren’t the same, but you’re going to have to keep reading to find out what they are. <g> Swordsman and Magdalene were hard to let go, but given who I’ve got coming in, and given that I knew so little about them, I thought I’d be better off freeing them up for another writer to use.

Thanks for all the kind words, Scott. Hope what I’ve got coming is enjoyable for you.

Yeah, it was a transition issue. Even more, this is my first foray back into current MV1 in-continuity writing since I’ve spent so long off in the future with ALL GOD’S CHILDREN and time writing past stories with TALES TO ASTONISH. So it may take a couple issues to find my groove again.

As for Cannonball, fear not, he’s not going to play the dopey "golly gee, Wally" character he was in Marvel’s X-MEN. He’s a veteran, he knows his stuff, he’ll fit right in.

And to be honest, I don’t plan on this being as good as AGC, but I don’t have anywhere near the canvas available to me here as I do there. I hope this is fun for folks, though.

And lastly, a review, posted to the mv1talk list by Barry BLACK KNIGHT Reese …

Barry has hit on a valid point: the strength of the line-up. Tigra, US Agent, Living Lightning, Jolt … fine characters in their own rights, but not exactly a strong Avengers line-up when put together. At least not in my hands. All I can say is that I’m pleased with the line-up that I’ll eventually have, and that includes folks that will start arriving next issue. I guarantee that Cannonball with not be written like the MU Justice. This is a big step for him, but he won’t be in awe of where he is. As for Quicksilver … if he was home to answer the phone, he’d have been here this issue. <g>

Thanks for the review Barry (and the kind words for my old FF stories) and thanks to everyone else who wrote in or read the issue. We’ll get to more letters about 107 next issue. As always, you can write me at mariner2@tiac.net with any comments. Thanks everyone!

A bead of sweat trickled off the American’s brow. "Pacific Coast of North America, sir." She blinked at her screen. "Sir! If the falling object continues along it’s present trajectory it’s going to impact …" - more punching into the keyboard as the map in front of her zoomed in closer - "… a spot of woods south of Los Angeles at … 1800 Palos Verdes Drive …"