MS.MARVEL #42
CRIME'S RED STAIN  Part 1, Death on the Job!
CAST: MS. MARVEL (Carol Danvers):        Former NASA security chief and magazine editor, Carol Danvers gained the powers of a Kree warrior after being subjected to the effects of an alien machine. As Ms. Marvel, she fought alongside her fellow AVENGERS for a time, before her powers and memories were temporarily stolen by the X-Man Rogue. Her powers were somewhat restored; she represented the height of merged Human and Kree genetic potential. MYSTIQUE: A mutant shape-shifter with an uncertain past, Mystique has become and remains Ms. Marvel's eternal arch-enemy!

1. Death By Vice!

    Near the shadow of Boeing's giant main plant she waited, anticipating the mark like a lioness readying herself. Near the main gate a strip mall served as her hunting ground, a kill-zone of the mundane. It could have been anywhere; the only factor that made the locale unique was it's proximity to the world's largest airplane hangar. Many of the workers from the giant aircraft manufacturer stopped at this small store going both to and from the aircraft plant, at all times of the day and night. In her line of work, thought the woman shaking a long blonde lock of hair from her face, she'd normally be waiting for men coming from work rather than to, but many an office has been used for pleasure she mused.

    Almost right on time, Alan Jeffries walked into the "mart", glancing askance at the yellow-haired beauty who loitered near the propane tanks out front. He made his purchase of day-old coffee and within a minute was back out into the night, eyeing the woman again.

    "Got to get primed to work that 3rd shift huh?", she said, eyeing the large thermos Jeffries carried.

    His reply was actually well-rehearsed. He'd been through this before and was delighted, especially since this particular street-walker was so uncommonly beautiful, "Yeah, you know how it is but it's not enough warm me through the night though. Y'know?"

    "Oh I know babe. Up for a little company tonight? I love airplanes and I love a man who builds 'em even more."

    "Why don't you get in?", was all he said opening the passenger door to his BMW.

    So she did and ten minutes later the hooker and the aircraft engineer made it quite easily through the plant's tight security net thanks to Jeffrie's security clearance as an Engineering Executive. Everyone at his division knew that Jeffries had become a little "wild" lately anyway since his marriage had gone on the rocks. The 47 year-old executive would often "party" some when the workload at the plant got slow: this was a well-known and accepted fact amongst his co-workers.

    One hour later Jeffries drove out of the plant alone after signing out for the night due to "a headache".

    The next morning "D.C." Monroe, a custodian, found Alan Jeffrie's lifeless, headless body lying in a pool of blood inside a broom closet near Jeffries' office. That day, the Everett Police Detectives identified the fingerprints on his body as belonging to one Carol Danvers of Seattle!

2. The Watcher in Norway

    Amusement crossed the face of the giant shrouded in darkness. Like a scene out of some primitive fantasy he loomed over the preternaturally glowing waters of a small pool inside his darkened chamber watching what transpired within.

    "This is getting very interesting, Carol Danvers", he thought as he smoothly motioned over the waters of the rock-bound pool.

    Staring further into the pool the figure froze. Glowing witch lights burned with his eyes mirroring the fires that danced in the waters of the strange all-seeing waters below.

    "So the important matters call to me this day", muttered the gigantic man in low rumbling tones; in a language incomprehensible to modern man.

    An omnipresent shadows grew within the medieval chamber swallowing the massive figure, receding only to leave the place as empty and dark as a catacomb watched over by Death itself.

3. Wrongfully Accused!

    "I am bone weary!", she thought, quickly opening the window to her apartment in the glowing twilight of a winter's day.

    She came silently flying right out the very sky into her bedroom, located 41 stories above the streets of Seattle, Washington. Carol Danvers felt the deep ache in her bones and in her nerves of a cross-country self-powered flight, as well as the ache of an intense work-out at a place she'd grown to call her second home, the Avenger's Mansion in New York City, three thousand miles away!

    As she shed her "working" costume: a tight-fitting leotard and boots to match, she thought of many things that had occurred that day. She thought of the intense training that the leader of the Avengers, the World's premier government sanctioned "vigilante" team, was putting her through. He commanded like a man possessed that day, and she wondered if it had anything to do with her obvious feelings for another member of the Avengers, the strange Prince of the undersea Kingdom of Atlantis known as Namor, the Sub-Mariner. She thought of growing friendships in the Avengers and in her "civilian" life. She thought of the Leave of Absence she had considered taking from the Avengers for personal reasons. She thought whether she'd ever get close to Namor and why her feelings for the half-human sea lord were so strong.

    She thought on these rather turgid topics and more, making her way to the kitchen to brew a batch of green tea when she heard a sharp and jolting knock on her apartment's door.

    Wondering whether she should answer for a moment, there was another knock, this one louder and more like a violent pounding.

    "Carol Danvers, please open up, it's the police!"

    "I thought I'd gotten some anonymity going here," she thought amused, "Why can't I ever leave my work?"

    Opening the door, the police officers both plain-clothed and uniformed forced their way past her, much to her surprise as the detective muttered in a harsh voice, "O.K., cuff her and read her rights, let's get this over with!"

    Stepping back, and admirably not using her superhuman powers she barked back, "What is this?"

    "Carol Danvers, you are under arrest for murder!"

    Putting forth her arms in order that she may be handcuffed, only one word burned across Carols's mind, the code-name for the most vicious of her many enemies. The eternal shape-shifting snake in the grass of Carol Danver's life...

    "Mystique!"
 

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