Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 8: Submission
Hey everyone, I know it’s been a couple weeks since Chapter 7. There’s a reason for that! Chapter 8, the finale of Taskmaster: The Line, is supposed to reflect a mega-sized comic, so it’s a mega-sized chapter! Chapters 1-7 were between 2000-2500 words. Chapter 8 is over 7000! I hope you enjoy the final entry in this story, and there will be more to come soon!
The submarine was completely unmarked. No flag. No sigil at all revealing its loyalty. Ironically, these were all the details that Taskmaster needed to be sure that this was another one of Thunderbolt Ross's little projects. The old man had always been as secretive as he was brutal, and this reeked of his style. Without hesitation, Taskmaster drew his sword and shield and started towards the looming colossus of steel before him. "Ross! I know that's you, ya overgrown son of a walrus. Come on out of yer big metal cock and face me!"
Tony had to admit, he was a little surprised when the hatch swung open, its silence in doing so a testament to how well-maintained the submersible was. Rivulets of water continued pouring off the sides of the vessel, its hull extending so far that Taskmaster literally couldn't see past it. After a few seconds that felt like much longer, a large older man with an aggressive moustache and round face climbed the ladder out to stand on the hull. That was him -- Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross, perpetual thorn in the side of the Hulk in the distant past. These days, he seemed to have his fingers in just about every pie that you could imagine, from working alongside Captain America to forming his ridiculous Thunderbolts squads to do his dirty work for him. Briefly, Taskmaster wondered if the Wrecking Crew were supposed to be Thunderbolts; ultimately, he decided it didn't matter. They had hopefully drowned by now, every last one of them.
Tony wasn't in the kindest mood, which made Ross's first words all the more effective.
"Tony Masters," the older man called out coolly. "Amazing to see you walking -towards- a fight for once. I don't see the Scions with you, so I suppose this isn't the apology that you owe me."
"I don't owe you shit, Grandpa Genocide," Taskmaster snapped. "I dunno what all this is about, but those kids're safe and you ain't ever gonna see them again. The hell is wrong with you, Thaddeus? This is low, even for you; and that's sayin' something for a man who works with Zemo for -free-."
Undaunted, Ross took off his glasses and started to wipe them clean. "It's true, then; you really do have amnesia. I thought Fury was just full of shit, trying to get in my way. He still was, of course - but it seems he was at least right about this. Amazing. They try to call you the most dangerous mercenary alive, and you're just - what, a mindless enforcer for Merced? She always was the brains of you two. She whispering in your ear right now?"
Leering aggressively at Ross from behind his mask, Tony didn't respond for a moment. Apparently, he had to add yet another person to the list of 'everyone knows this shit but me' regarding The Hub...though if he was lucky, Ross didn't realize the woman was apparently his wife.
Man, he really was struggling to internalize that. It stuck in his craw like a piece of food that just wouldn't go down; could he call her? Promptly, Tony realized that was ridiculous to even be considering right now. He had bigger problems than getting his head screwed on straight, and almost all of them were right in front of him. "Gimme one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now, Thaddeus."
"Because if I'm even half-right about how your last few days have gone, you're too curious; otherwise, you would have thrown one of your ridiculous ripoff toys at me already. Come on, Masters. Just get in the sub and we can talk this out like the adult that I am and that you pretend to be."
Shrugging off the insults - when they came this fast they were pretty much just like a gentle rain, especially from Ross - Taskmaster made his way up onto the submarine. "Fine, but you try anything on me, and I'll run ya through. I know you can't Hulk out anymore, and the power of arthritis ain't gonna save ya if you pull yer usual crap."
"You really seem to resent the fact that I've lived to an old age, Masters." Ross sounded amused as he let the mercenary descend the ladder into the submarine first, following after. Despite his age, Tony marveled at how much of a tank of a man Thaddeus was; Tony was still a little taller than the not-so-good general, but Ross had to be nearly twice as wide as him, and he looked like he still had the strength to match it. Taskmaster made a mental note not to underestimate him if this did get violent - Red Hulk or no, this was a man who had tangled with the best and come out with his ridiculous facial hair intact.
"I think everyone on God's Green Earth resents you still being alive." Impossibly, the damned submarine seemed even bigger on the inside! The gargantuan seacraft's interior was more cavernous than he had expected; as soon as Taskmaster had set foot on the metal floor of the highest level, he could tell that at least this section of the ship was a single enormous hallway, wide enough to drive a tank through and sparsely populated with only a few men and women milling about reading reports, checking equipment, and saluting Ross as he approached. The old general led Taskmaster in a direction that he could only vaguely parse as towards the bridge of the vessel, if his itching familiarity was anything to go by.
"Hilarious. Remember this place yet?" Ross asked, sounding legitimately curious. Adjusting his cuff-links before leaning down to take off his glasses and get read by a retinal scanner, he straightened as a bulkhead opened, leading them towards a small fleet of what looked like sleeker, militarized golf carts. "Come on. I'm too old to be walkin' like this, and you're gettin' there yourself."
"...I don't," Taskmaster admitted honestly. "But I've been here, haven't I?" He didn't even need to ask the question, he could tell. When his specific memories failed him, the muscle memory didn't; he knew the layout of this place. He wasn't lost, and he could -feel- like he knew what was coming, which only made the mercenary more anxious as he stuffed himself into the cart that was far too small for both him and Ross.
"Been here? Son, you spent six months in this sub training the Scions. This here's the home of the United States' greatest super-soldier project since Steve Rogers himself; and if ya knew how many shots we've taken at that particular target over the years, you'd understand how impressive that is. Hell, even you were an example of the Krauts tryin' to get in on the action, until ya stole their big bad serum."
"I like to think I rescued it," Taskmaster corrected as Ross drove them through the submarine. The first few chambers were nondescript, full of nothing more than the extensive supplies and equipment that a vessel this size needed to remain underwater for months at a time. As they approached the bridge, however, things got a little more interesting. Tony caught sight of men and women in strange gas masks, with bulging muscles and aggressive body language, being herded by handlers into a series of cargo elevators; he saw tanks full of human beings being studied by scientists, readings being checked and one of them even awake and looking distinctly panicked. "Speaking of rescue, the -fuck- are you doing to those guys?"
"Saving their lives, believe it or not. If they weren't in those tanks, they'd be dying of oxygen poisoning due to a rare mutation they've developed."
"Developed during one of your little super-soldier experiments. Real noble of ya." Taskmaster sighed. This place was wearing him down more by the minute, aggravating his already explosive temper, and he wondered vaguely if Ross was hoping for that result. All the more reason to stay on his guard. "Look, quit baitin' me and spit it out. What'd I do here? And -why-?" Dread laced his words, even though he tried to avoid it. As much as Tony hated to admit it, he was a little scared to find his own history on this project, and with the Scions...
...But not enough to avoid finding the answer.
Pulling the cart up to the bulkhead outside the head of the submarine, a digital screen displaying the ocean around them and betraying that they were moving -quite- quickly through the water, Ross stepped out and gestured for Taskmaster to follow him. As the caped mercenary tread at his heel, the general flashed his eye at another retinal scanner, then his palm print at another. Whatever this was, it had even heavier security that the chambers they'd already passed through, and as the pair stepped into an elevator, Ross finally replied to him.
"Well, first and foremost, ya ought to know -- this is YET another one of SHIELD's old messes". The elevator didn't have even a single button; it clearly was designed to exclusively travel between two destinations, and if Taskmaster's experience with SHIELD told him anything, this was the -only- way in or out of the other location. Wherever Ross was taking him, it was the kind of government secret that even Nick Fury would have a hard time getting access to. "Well, SHIELD's and yours. You ever wonder about how much of a mess you leave behind when your memory resets, Masters? Or do ya really trust The Hub to clean up after you? 'Cause I gotta tell you, she does a fine job - but not a perfect one."
Tony didn't respond to the comment about his wife. He could tell he was being baited. Instead, keeping his eyes on the prize, he asked, "Get to the point before your heart gives out, gram-gram. What happened?"
"You happened, Masters. When you took that serum that gave you your photographic reflexes, it was when a laboratory full of the stuff was exploding. The kraut bastard who told you what it was capable of told you it was the last dose, right?"
"Fuck if I know," Taskmaster answered honestly.
"Exactly. So shut up and listen, boy. That facility was at the top of a mountain - and a great deal of that serum that was 'destroyed' in the blast actually leaked into the water supply. The Hub knew about this; something about a 'village of Hitlers', which I definitely do not want to know more about." He shook his head as the elevator opened into a dark hallway. In fact, it was pitch black until some overhead lights came to life one after another, exposing black walls and smooth floors that reminded him of what he'd heard of the Red Room. "That woulda been the end of it -- except it turns out about ten years ago, water from wells near the village was gathered en masse by the suppliers for some disaster aid groups. You figure out where this is going?"
For a moment he didn't, but as they proceeded down the hallway, Taskmaster's eyes widened down his mask. "...The Scions."
"Children from families in poverty or disaster-stricken areas across the last decade," Ross confirmed. "Each displaying unusual capacity for perfect mimickry of complex tasks -- photographic reflexes, previously only known to a select handful of individuals, including you, Masters. Your serum got out into the world, and now little Task-babies are sprouting up. Russia, Ireland, Brazil, even Wakanda after Namor wrecked the place. We found them and brought them here -- to the greatest training facility in the world."
They passed through a security checkpoint with a couple of silent, armed guards flanking them into a gargantuan arena that seemed too massive, too awe-inspiring, for even the gargantuan submarine that they were inside. Curved walls and ceiling reminded Tony of a stadium, right down to what almost resembled bleachers along the edges of either side. The 'field' was littered with what must have been a hundred different types of training equipment, from futuristic-looking weightlifting machines to obstacle courses that Taskmaster immediately recognized as his own design. He'd made them some years ago to test not his students, but himself and the limits of his photographic reflexes. To have them here meant only one thing:
"...So you brought in the best teacher to train them," Tony said with resignation. Had he really agreed to this? Had The Hub?
"Exactly," Ross nodded in agreement. "We might not get along on a personal level, Masters, but there's no denying your credentials. Given actual time and resources, you've sculpted some of the finest government agents we've ever had: John Walker, Spider-Woman, even Crossbones before he went rogue. Besides, there's no one else who's as much of an expert as you on photographic reflexes. Some of the other people in charge of this project wanted to bring on Echo or Finesse, but they were considered a little too...sympathetic."
"Yer flatterin' me," Taskmaster deadpanned. "So glad I'm the one you think of when it comes to tutoring kidnapped children." They descended a long ramp towards the training machines; was Taskmaster imagining something, or did he see a dried bloodstain in the combat ring? Before he could focus on it, the earpiece hidden in his mask came to life, a crackling signal of a few rapid, stuttering sounds. It was The Hub, reporting through an old Cherokee code that they used to send messages back and forth when the risk of being overheard was high. Translation?
'The kids are safe. Black Ant's coming to back you up.'
It was a good thing, too. TESS wasn't going to be the reinforcements he needed, she didn't fare too well at getting underwater. Eric, though...well, sometimes he wondered if he really did need to give the guy more credit. They'd have to talk about this once he was done here, if he survived his insane plan that was forming now.
"I'm not flattering you," Ross growled out, stopping in front of the combat ring. "I'm guessing that you've already figured out this didn't exactly end well. You know how long you were here, Masters? Three months. And it turns out that for all three of those months, as you were training those kids, you were preparing to abscond with government property. Remember that part, Masters? When ya tried to steal from us?"
Tony saw Ross rounding on him, sensed the agents approaching him from behind with batons in hand. It should have been a fight he could manage, even an -easy- one...but he couldn't move.
Suddenly his memory came rushing back, so powerful and overwhelming it nearly brought him to his knees. He couldn't even lift a hand to defend himself as he heard the attack coming, felt the rush of wind of the baton smashing into the base of his skull from behind. Stumbling forward before collapsing right onto his face, Tony looked up and saw Ross one last time before the darkness took him.
When consciousness returned, it brought explosive pain with it, a shooting star that begun at the base of Tony's neck and erupted in every direction from there. He groaned and tried to bring his hands to his suffering temples, only to find that he was tied down; bound by steel cables to a stretcher, he could barely wiggle his arms and legs. That got his attention.
The mercenary opened his eyes, which felt bleary and unfocused. He was definitely still aboard the submarine, in what he recognized now as the interrogation room. Dim lighting, an assortment of torture devices nearby; this wasn't good.
"Tasky!" Came a tiny voice, directly in his left ear. He winced at the severity. It could only be Eric.
"Black Ant...?" He murmured. Had he been drugged? He felt sluggish, even moreso than he should from having gotten whacked across the dome. "How'd you find me so quickly?"
"I didn't," Eric replied; he was barely the size of an ant, really living up to his name, sitting inside Taskmaster's ear. "You've been here for four days. I had to wait for the submarine to surface at a hidden base near the Everglades before I could sneak on board. They really messed you up, man. You gonna be good to go?"
Trying to figure out what Eric meant, Tony looked down. His costume was gone; he was wearing...well, nothing, and a number of fresh wounds marked his skin every few inches. The effects of the drugs had exacerbated his amnesia, but now he remembered; they'd spent hour after hour torturing him, driving implements into his flesh and drowning him to get the answer to one simple question:
He felt a surge of pride, spiteful and strong, as he realized he hadn't told them a damn thing. "I'm fine. Can you get me out of here?"
"Yeah," Eric replied, "But it'll take me a few minutes. They really didn't take any chances; I'm gonna have to use my fusion cutter. Keep still, alright? I already looped the camera feed, and they usually only come in here once an hour. We've got plenty of time." He felt the tiny merc jump out of his ear and start to grow, pulling a device that looked much like a miniature welding torch out of his belt. As he started to cut his way through the cables with the intense blue laser that it emitted, Taskmaster spoke up.
"Thanks for coming for me, little buddy."
"Of course. Thanks for not breaking; would've been a real hassle if we had to deal with the Yellow Submarine here. Besides, it's my job."
Tony was grateful, but with his memory returned...he had to ask. "...And because you feel guilty, huh?"
Eric almost paused the cutting with the torch, he was so surprised. "What do you mean?" Taskmaster could sense some brief hesitation as he finished the job, cutting enough of the cable so that Tony could take the fusion cutter and free his own legs.
"You knew this whole time what happened here," Tony responded calmly. He didn't sound angry; he didn't FEEL angry. "...You were here, too. They brought you in for another job, figured since we were partners, it'd be fine." Now Eric -did- stop cutting. Taskmaster could tell the younger mercenary was stunned, that now, of all times, he didn't expect this to come up. "You came in and saw me training the Scions...found out from The Hub I was planning to help them escape. Together, we were gonna do it. We were gonna do something good for once in our lives, Eric."
"Tony..." Black Ant's mask came up, the automatic visor lifting to reveal his face. He looked terrified, legitimately so, even with his messy red hair covering half his face. Tony didn't stop, rising from his bindings. Something about his presence, despite the blood matting his hair and the fact he was naked, must have been striking; Eric backed away.
"...We were almost out, weren't we? We'd almost saved them when Ross's heavy hitter came. It was a tough fight. So tough, I had to use my photographic reflexes to stop her...and it fried my brain, as it tends to do. I forgot what we were doing. Forgot we were trying to -save- those kids." He advanced a step; Eric retreated one. Tony didn't sound angry.
But he felt pretty angry.
"...We had to get out of there," Eric accused. "You were suddenly operating on auto-pilot, Tony. You think I WANTED to leave the kids behind? But we were ALL gonna die, them included, if we didn't bail! You don't know what it's like!" Eric's fear turned into anger of its own now.
Eric was right; Tony didn't know. "...You could have told me later. We could have come back for them."
"And what, heard you call me full of shit? Your BRAIN. IS. BROKEN!" Eric roared. "HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE IT UP WITH THE HUB! IT'S HER FUCKING JOB TO KEEP YOU IN CHECK, NOT MINE! AND YET HERE I AM!"
"...Yeah. It should have been The Hub," Tony agreed, looking around the interrogation room. Damn; they hadn't been stupid enough to keep his equipment nearby. "...Or ya mean, my wife?"
Eric didn't respond to that, averting his eyes. A tense silence hung in the air for awhile between them before Tony finally spoke.
"We got pretty loud, they're gonna check this out. We...can talk about this later. You came for me, O'Grady. We're still a team. I'll do my best, but without any weapons, this ain't gonna be easy."
Happy to change the subject, Black Ant tossed something so small Tony's way that he barely caught it even with his uncanny reflexes. "Here. It's not much...but I was able to sneak this in." As he triggered the Pym Particles, Taskmaster broke into a grin. He hadn't seen -this- thing in awhile...
It was his energy generator, old SHIELD tech that could take any shape at the will of its wielder; he preferred to have a larger arsenal on hand, so he'd eventually abandoned it, but right now? It was exactly what he needed. Strapping it to his forearm, the mercenary straightened as he heard footsteps rushing towards the interrogation room. "Thanks, little buddy. Let's do this."
Relieved, Eric didn't hesitate to crack a joke. "Can that thing take the shape of pants, by chance? I don't really feel like staring at your glazed hams for this whole fight."
"Sorry, I'm going balls out for this one. Literally." With that, Taskmaster broke into a sprint just as the bulkhead door opened; the first thing the agent who entered saw was a very naked, very muscular brown-haired man leaping into the air, just before the jumping snap kick borrowed from Batroc the Leaper broke his neck. As he went down hard, another of the guards went for the alarm, but Black Ant was already leap-frogging over Tony's shoulder, shrinking and then growing in rapid sequence to slip right through the crowd and tackle him.
"Help!" The man cried out. "The prisoner's escap--" He was cut off as Eric's fusion torch was shoved into his mouth, evaporating his tongue and boiling his brain in seconds. "Ew," Black Ant commented, even as he leapt backwards and drove his elbow into another sentry who was approaching him from behind.
Taskmaster had the rest under control. He had a feeling these guys were trained to fight him; that was a mistake on their part. Instead of his first instinct to turn his energy generator on into the shape of Cap's shield or Black Knight's broadsword, he dug a little deeper. He could tell it had been a good idea when a heavily armored soldier reeled back in surprise as the form of Shang-Chi's nunchaku came to life, whirling like a tornado to deflect an oncoming strike from a stun baton before taking most of his teeth out with a vicious swat across the face.
The pair were a blur of motion, perfectly coordinated until the last of the guards had fallen. They'd come a long way from accidentally hitting each other like the first time they'd faced Spider-Man together, that was for sure.
"That's better..." Taskmaster breathed, dismissing the energy nunchaku. "I remember the layout of this place; we're dead in the center of the sub. Even if we fought our way out, thing's on the move right now, isn't it?"
Black Ant nodded. "Yep. We're back at sea; I barely had time to get on board before Ross was moving again. Even being able to track you, it was hard to infiltrate this thing...I can see why he likes it."
"Then escape ain't an option. We gotta commandeer the sub."
"How?" Black Ant asked. "There's hundreds of soldiers here, not to mention Ross himself and whoever he's hired as his elite security. We won't be able to hold the bridge that long."
Taskmaster considered this. "Good point. I'll head for the bridge. You go to the Engine Room. If we can't conquer the submarine, we'll hold it hostage. You can threaten to blow the engines, sink the whole thing, unless they let me take us to the surface. Even if they try to rush the engine room, you can shrink down and start causing trouble to get them to back off."
Eric thought about it, then nodded. "...Risky, but our best option. You'll be taking most of the heat, though; Ross is gonna be on the bridge, and he'll call reinforcements to save his wrinkly butt. You sure you'll be okay? You look pretty roughed up." The concern was touching; it reminded Tony he needed to give Eric the benefit of the doubt. He wasn't sure he could let what had happened slide entirely...but he didn't need to punish the mercenary for it.
"...I'm good. Thanks, Eric. We'll get out of this together, alright? See ya on the other side." He extended a closed hand.
Smiling, Black Ant bumped his fist with his own. "Yeah. We got this."
With that, they split up, unsure if they'd ever see each other again.
By the time Taskmaster ran into the next pack of guards, he wasn't even thinking anymore about the fact he was completely naked. At first he thought it'd be funny, surprising these assholes with some full frontal nudity before kicking their asses, but he was just angry. Angry, cold, and ready to show them exactly how big of a mistake they had made.
Two of the sentries had guns, high-tech air rifles designed to be lethal without risking the integrity of the submarine. He took them down first, generating shuriken and flinging them with enough force to go right through the men's hands and send them to the ground howling in pain.
A Bullseye special. A second later, he was bringing forth a little trick from Zaran the Weapons Master, cleaving through his assailants with the wickedly curved blade of a chinese hooksword. Hawkeye, Iron Fist, Daredevil; these men were clearly expecting those heroes, had trained and prepared accordingly. He could read it in their movements.
As the last one fell, gurgling as a hole poked in their throat surged with blood, Tony shook his head. "Fuckin' amateurs. You think I've spent my whole life doin' this and I only got five people's moves? I was bein' -nice- before." He was close to the bridge now. A little longer, and he'd knock Ross out, tie his moustache to a radiator or something, and be done with this.
"Nothing nice about what I'm looking at, Taskmaster." Tony nearly froze. He knew that voice. It was the only one Thaddeus could have hired to reasonably stop him -- the only mercenary alive he considered to be on his level...and the one he'd been forced to throw everything at just to survive last time.
Elektra Natchios, clad head to toe in black leather armor save for the red mask around the lower half of her face, stood between him and the entrance to the bridge.
"...You again," he growled. She didn't lose her composure at his obvious venom, though she did seem visibly amused.
"You remember, then. I suppose that means you know this won't end well for you. Give up, Taskmaster. You're out of your depth here; you don't even have that ridiculous suit of yours."
"...I thought you had a soft spot for kids, Elektra. This doesn't seem like your kind of job." Tony gripped the energy generator on his wrist, considering what to summon. What could he really use to surprise the world's greatest assassin?
"Don't pretend you know me," she countered. Unsurprisingly, her signature sai were her weapon of choice; she rarely -needed- much else, drawing them from her hips and twirling them in place. "Who are you to talk? You ruined those kid's lives already, blowing up that facility and letting them develop your powers. I'm trying to help them; -Ross- is trying to help them. Do you realize they're already starting to get your memory problems? I don't like Ross, but he's the only one working on a cure. Psychics, scientists, the whole nine yards; he's saving them."
"He's turning them into weapons," Taskmaster growled. "You're fucking deluded if you think he's doing anything because he has their best interests in mind."
"Not as deluded as a naked supervillain who thinks he's the hero here. No more words." Elektra rushed at him, her body little more than a black-and-crimson blur. Even having faced her multiple times, Taskmaster was always alarmed by her speed; it was like trying to battle a waterfall, all its weight bearing down on you...and just as useless to try and hit.
She didn't stop, didn't run into him; she dashed right past him, swinging her sai for his shoulder. Turning and summoning his Captain America shield on reflex, he realized immediately that was her whole plan, to push him into falling back into his faithful moves, his reliable ones. Too late; she was already pirouetting like a dancer, bringing her other dagger up and driving it into his back. It would have run through his kidney and ended the fight right there if he hadn't caught on, but he managed to turn and instead have it driven straight into the muscle group behind his ribs instead.
No time for pain. He swiped with the shield, missed as she deftly ducked, but he was back in control. On the backswing, the shield became a gauntlet, enveloping his fist. Elektra's eyes widened in surprise as she was clocked across the face by a classic move from The Destroyer; she recovered quickly, rolling with the momentum and whirling her leg up in a kick that stopped him from being able to pursue. Now on guard, she closed in once more, this time protecting herself with one sai while thrusting with the other.
A katana. A boomerang. A large, bouncing ball that rapidly whacked Elektra in the forehead and then bounced back into his hand to intercept an attempted cut. Taskmaster pushed himself to his limits, conjuring the most esoteric and obscure techniques he'd ever picked up, desperate to keep Elektra from overwhelming him. As her nose ran red with blood, the same red that trickled down his wounded back, the mercenaries circled each other.
"I always respected you for being able to keep up," Elektra admitted. "Put anything in your hand and it becomes a deadly weapon."
"Bit late for flattery," Taskmaster replied, preparing to summon the next energy weapon...but he didn't get a chance. Elektra dove in, went low with a stab for his thigh. When he stepped back to avoid it, she came up, smashing her skull into his chin and nearly making him bite his own tongue off, sending him staggering. Reflexively, he moved to summon his shield again - damn it - and she punished him for it. Instead of trying to stab his less vulnerable head, she shoved her sai right through the energy generator itself.
It sputtered, sparked...and died. Suddenly, Taskmaster was weaponless.
"It wasn't flattery. I was explaining your weakness. You're a mimic, Masters...a vague shadow, always one step behind those of us who push ourselves to be the best." She wasn't haughty, wasn't arrogant; just stating facts. Every word stung as true as her dagger as she started towards him. "You gave up everything to be the greatest fighter alive...and you failed at even that."
She lunged. It was all Tony could do to keep himself away from the vicious points of her weapons; he took a kick, a backhand, a pommel smack across the temple in his desperate attempt to block her myriad stabs and cuts. She was a whirlwind of speed and aggression, not reckless but wholly confident that he couldn't keep up with her without a weapon, couldn't spare himself getting run through and land a blow against her at the same time.
Realizing she was right, Tony took a deep breath...and charged head-long at her. He'd told himself there was no way he could truly copy someone like Wolverine; he'd tear his body apart.
But right now, that was a worthy price. As Elektra tried to guard herself with a vicious cross-up slash, Tony suddenly reversed his momentum, trying not to scream in pain when one of his ankles cracked from the sheer speed with which he re-directed his momentum. The assassin couldn't keep up as he whirled in a capoeria kick that smashed her across the jaw, sending her spinning.
She was correct. He couldn't copy his way out of this one. There was one thing, though, that Tony had that even she couldn't match. "You know why I'm the only merc who hasn't fucking -died- and come back by now?" He growled through bloody teeth, rushing at Elektra again. She caught him, intercepted his oncoming punch with her sai. Pain shot through Tony's hand like lightning as the blade punched between his knuckle like a sick inversion of Wolverine's claw, thrusting all the way down until it emerged from his wrist.
But he didn't stop. Taking advantage of his greater weight and raw, adrenaline-fueled strength, he used the fact her blade was stuck in his hand to -yank- her towards him, smashing his forehead into her nose. Elektra reeled, bringing her other sai up into his ribcage; he felt the sick, liquid heat of the wound opened in his liver, then swatted his right hand up with staggering force to box her in the ear, causing her to issue forth a scream of pain that she couldn't even hear as her eardrum exploded.
"Because for all the shit you talk about being better...none of you know how to -survive-. None of you know what it means to really be outgunned, to be against a better opponent...and to take them the fuck down."
He beat her. He savaged her. She kept ripping away, giving up on her sai embedded in his flesh and clawing at him with her nails, biting him like a wounded and angry animal, tearing flesh off a chunk at a time.
But he drove his fingers into one of her eyes, slammed his knee into her stomach, and ripped out one of her sai, finally shoving it into her gut. Wavering a moment, Elektra looked down at her wound...and finally collapsed.
It was all Taskmaster could do to not mimic that, too.
"You'll live," he muttered, wiping a frothy mix of his saliva and both of their blood from his face. "As for me...remains to be seen." Taking both of her sai, bleeding from a dozen wounds and running purely on adrenaline, Taskmaster advanced towards the bridge. One brave soldier, a survivor of the previous fight, took aim with an airsoft gun -- he never even saw the dagger that was thrown directly between his eyes, killing him on the spot.
The bulkhead of the bridge hissed as it opened. Thunderbolt Ross was on a mic, shouting himself hoarse. "NATCHIOS! COME IN! IS TASKMASTER--" Hearing the door, he turned around and cursed. "Fucking christ, Masters...you look dead already. ...Hey!" He didn't expect the sheer speed with which Tony closed the gap, driving the sai into his shoulder and literally pinning him to the wall. As he started to struggle, Tony twisted the weapon, narrowing his good eye; the other one was swelling shut, more purple than brown by now.
"We're surfacing. The Hub's going to pick me up. You're never gonna see those kids again. You wanted to know where they were? They're..." He paused, remembering Laura Kinney's last nod to him as she boarded the quinjet.
"They're with an -actual- hero. They're safe, and they're out of your reach."
"Who do you think you are, Masters?" Ross spat. "You'll bleed out before we even breach. You got no idea who the fuck you're messing with, Uncle Sam's--"
"--Uncle Sam isn't gonna do shit. I remember everything now, Thaddeus. This project? It's your little pet. Off the books. No accountability...but no backup. You'll be disowned; thrown out of the military if you're lucky, into The Raft if you're not. And ya know what? I came up here fully intending to bury this fucking dagger in your skull...but I've seen what it looks like to actually give a shit about human life, even worthless ones like yours. So I'm gonna let them."
He jabbed his thumb into a pressure point he'd picked up from Shang-Chi years ago, and Ross fell silent. Stumbling to the controls, he grabbed hold of the mic, even as his photographic reflexes took over and automatically went about commanding the enormous vessel to breach. It was optimized for Ross himself to pilot, all the sub-systems that would normally require a staff of dozens to manage redirected through this very console. A strength...and a weakness.
"Black Ant...this is Taskmaster. I got the bridge. You good?"
He heard gunfire, and for the first time, legitimately felt a pang of fear. Then the speakers crackled. "I'm good. No one else here. You sound like shit."
"Yeah, well...shove...shove it up yer ass, O'Grady."
Taskmaster collapsed against the control panel, just as the submarine began to gain altitude.
Tony woke in a stark white room, hooked up to so many machines that he couldn't tell where his arms ended and the needles and cables began. Nauseous with pain and barely able to lift his head, he was greeted with not only the faces of Black Ant and Wolverine, but even the hooded mask of Spymaster and Mara, the young leader of the Scions.
"No one was sure you'd make it," Laura said. "But I said you were pretty damn tough...for a supervillain." Her smirk was wry; maybe it was too optimistic to say it was fond...but it showed relief that he was awake. More than he'd expected.
"...Where am I?" He groaned.
"Albino's hospital," Spymaster explained. He almost collapsed again with relief. There was no one he'd trust more to patch him up after a fight like that. "Don't worry, you haven't been out for another four days...only one this time." Tony winced at the lost time, but it was better than being dead.
"I arrested Ross myself," Laura confirmed. "He's in the Raft awaiting trial. The Scions have agreed to testify, and with that, it's pretty much certain he'll never see the light of day again."
"Hell yeah," Tony replied, then glanced over at Eric. "You make it out alright?"
"Better than you," O'Grady affirmed, then lifted the t-shirt he was wearing to expose an enormous hole in his torso. Tony could see cables and machinery all around the wound. "Except for this. But sometimes being an LMD is kind of awesome, huh? I'm on my way to the repair shop now, but wanted to check in with you first."
"...Well, we might not see each other for awhile, after all." Eric averted his eyes, then narrowed them at Laura.
"What do ya mean?" Tony looked curious, then felt a surge of panic as he realized that he wasn't too weak to lift his arm: it was cuffed to the bed.
Laura, her eyes apologetic but her voice firm, didn't make him wait. "...Ross isn't the only one I arrested," she began. "Elektra is also in jail...and you will be too, as soon as you're able to walk."
"Are you fucking--" Taskmaster started, but when Spymaster held up a hand, he stopped.
"Let her talk," Spymaster pleaded. Furious but silent, he nodded for Laura to continue.
"...You have to be tried for what you did, Taskmaster. For a lot of it. But this isn't supposed to be revenge. I told you the Scions are going to testify against Ross..."
Mara picked up where she left off, "...But we're going to testify for you, too. Spymaster explained everything on the Quinjet. About your memory issues. About how you really did want to help us...but you didn't know we existed after you fought Elektra."
Laura nodded at that, then added, after the first hesitation she'd shown this whole time, "...And I'll be testifying, too. I'll tell them about how much of a bastard you are...but also how much I think you can change, if you really try. If someone gives you a chance. You're not well, Tony." It was the first time she'd used his name, -really- used it. "You don't need to be in prison...you need help. And I think if you got it, you could really do a lot of good. But this can't keep happening. You can't keep forgetting who you are, then going right back to mercenary work. I'm hunting The Hub now. She has to account for how she's been controlling you...and if she really is your wife, if she's trying to help you do good as well...then she needs to do better. She needs to bring in professionals. You're not a good man, Taskmaster...but maybe you could be, someday. With help."
Tony tried to look mad, but it didn't work with the tears starting to well in his eyes. "...Why you? Of all people?"
Digging into her pocket, Laura tossed something familiar onto his chest. It was barely as big as his pinky. "After you shot my sisters and I took you down, I wondered about why you seemed so reluctant to fight me. I found the 'bullet' you hit Gabby with. Airsoft pellet...wouldn't have done more than knock her out even if she hadn't been wearing armor. I realized that on some level, even you know you can't keep going on like this...and you don't want to be the villain you let yourself be made out as."
Taskmaster didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything -to- say. Staring at the deformed pellet, he just laid his head back on his pillow. Smiling faintly, Wolverine gently patted the side of his bed.
"Alright. He needs to rest," came another voice. It was Albino, a sharp-featured and white-haired woman dressed in a pristine lab coat and with a complete lack of fear as she entered the room. "If you want him able to attend this ridiculous trial of yours, I suggest you let him sleep. Out."
Tony watched them go, even weakly lifting a shackled hand to wave at Mara. Black Ant lingered, then leaned down to whisper, "And if they -do- try to put you away, I'll spring ya, buddy. We'll go on the lam together. It's win-win!" With that, he skipped out with the rest.
For the first time in ages, Tony was smiling - sincerely and wholly - as he fell back asleep under Albino's loyal care.
Black Ant had gone off for repairs, and Mara had already been escorted away; upon being informed of Akeja's location, Black Panther had quickly contacted Wolverine and agreed to bring all of the Scions to an Academy in Wakanda, where their burgeoning memory issues could be addressed and they could get the care and education they needed after the year they'd missed since their kidnapping. Attempts would be made to find their families, but they would be well cared for regardless.
Now it was just Laura and Spymaster, who stopped the heroine as she was about to leave. "Kinney."
"What?" Laura turned back to face the hooded woman, narrowing her eyes. "Just because I'm helping Taskmaster doesn't mean we're friends. We're finished here."
"...No we're not," Spymaster replied. "In fact, I suspect you're going to want to have a long talk with me." She pulled down her hood, then lifted her mask. Laura had never seen her before; it wasn't someone she recognized, a latina woman with a shock of black hair, stunningly intelligent brown eyes, and the most long-suffering, yet confident quirk of the lips she'd ever laid eyes on.
"...My name's Mercedes Merced. I'm Taskmaster's wife -- and The Hub."
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