Thunder |
What's Been Happening: Isabelle "Izzy" Parkinson has adopted the identity of Tina Thunderfist, carrying on a heroic legacy begun by her grandfather, who adventured alongside the WW II-era Crusaders as Tommy Thunderfist. Izzy is involved with the Weird Happenings Organization, but her self-confidence was recently shaken by a mission that took her to Darkmoor Prison. Meanwhile, the elder dragon named Rathoon has awakened from a centuries-long slumber and joined the heroic organization known as the Pendragons. Unfortunately, Rathoon failed in his assigned mission to protect the magical Dragonstone... and he now finds himself trapped in a world that has seemingly passed him by.
W.H.O. Headquarters, London
"You understand why we're doing this, Mr.... Rathoon?" The man behind the desk looked extremely uncomfortable, tugging at his tie repeatedly. "Security is a vital concern to all of us these days and the Prime Minister has asked us to do thorough background checks on all new members of the Pendragons. Given your... situation... that's not really possible. So I'm here to evaluate your mental state and make a best guess about your reliability to handle sensitive information." He fidgeted. "Mr. Rathoon?"
The great dragon, who had mystically shrunk his size to better fit into the narrow confines of the W.H.O. building, pushed his sunglasses down to the edge of his snout, peering over them with slitted eyes. A tiny plume of smoke escaped from one side of a crooked grin. "I'm down with that, boyee. I mean, the Pendragons are my peeps... and all of Great Britain is my hood. Capish?"
The analyst cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but your manner of speech is... Well, I expected you to speak in old English or something."
Rathoon waved a hand through the air, as if he were embarrassed by the very thought. "Tish-Tosh. I'm a smart dragon. I know how to fit into any situation. And I quite fancy the way these new words roll off my tongue." The dragon leaned forward, his face coming close enough for the analyst to smell his smoky breath. "So... If you decide I'm a security threat, will you try to throw me in jail? I hope not... because I have no plans to become anyone's bee-yotch."
"No!" the man answered, uttering out a short bark of laughter. He, like many others, suffered from Dragonfear. It was a deep, primal reaction and if afflicted approximately 40% of the population, according to a recent study. Strangely enough, there was a sizeable community who actually felt safer with the beasts around. "I mean, the worst that could happen to you is that we wouldn't approve you as a Pendragon."
Rathoon looked positively mirthful at that. "I didn't know you had any such powers. The Lady of the Lake charges the Pendragons with their stations, young man, not any government functionary. And she's already given me props for joining up."
The W.H.O. agent looked a bit alarmed as the dragon turned his bulk around and made towards the door. "You're walking out?"
Rathoon looked over his shoulder and grinned, showing a full mouth of teeth. "Indeed I am. I quite liked the tour of the facility, though. The entire operation is enough to leave me quite chuffed."
"But, security--"
"I am the last of my kind. My particular breed of dragon is extinct. All my old friends are gone." Rathoon's features softened and his eyes took on a dewy cast. "I have no one left in this world save the Pendragons. I would not betray them. So, by extension, your government is safe, as well. Ciao." Rathoon squeezed through the door before the man could say another word.
Elsewhere at W.H.O. -- The Offices of Dr. Oonagh Mullarky
Izzy Parkinson sat on the examination table, gritting her teeth against the pain. A long tube was connected to a vein in her left arm, pumping her system full of drugs that would increase her natural abilities. They, combined with the technology in her uniform's gauntlets, were what made her Thunderfist -- hero to the nation.
Hero to the nation?
More like a big, purple-suited joke, she thought bitterly. I bet Robbie wouldn't have needed some two-bit vigilante to save his behind at Darkmoor.
"You seem distressed today, Isabelle."
Izzy glanced over to see Dr. Mullarky watching her closely. In all of England, there was no one as revered as this particular scientist. Her work had resulted in the creation of numerous metahumans and, before the Barrier had arisen, had placed Great Britain as one of the leaders in superhuman research. There had, Izzy recalled, been rumors that Mullarky had been involved with the superheroine called Plasmer, as well -- but Mullarky's face had darkened noticeably the one time Izzy had inquired about it. "I was just thinking about my brother," Izzy replied.
Mullarky resisted the urge to smile. Since her father's death, Isabelle had fallen farther into a funk that had left her feeling adrift and useless -- and exceedingly easy to manipulate. It had been Mullarky's dream that Isabelle had fulfilled by placing a call to W.H.O., asking for the treatments to turn her into a superhero. With the Pendragons in place, Mullarky's importance had been steadily declining in the eyes of Parliament -- but her assumption of the W.H.O. superhuman program had changed all that. She had helped turn Robbie Parkinson into Thunderfist, but his unexpected disappearance to join the Pendragons and then the Dark Guard had ruined her plans. But now I have a more malleable subject, she mused. "You should not dwell on these things, Isabelle. A positive outlook is essential if you are to live up to your potential."
Izzy held her tongue as Mullarky came over and began to remove the apparatus. She knew that the doctor didn't understand -- nobody did, when you came down to it. She was the granddaughter of a hero, yes, but it was her mother who'd paid the ultimate price. She lay in a coma now, not quite dead but not alive, either.
And Robbie, stupid Robbie who had broken her dad's heart, had become the new Thunderfist.
He soiled the memory of grandpa and mum everytime he dared show his face in that suit.
"You are free to go, Isabelle. But I hope that you will take my advice. You are Thunderfist now... and you are the living embodiment of a great and heroic legacy. Personal spite should be beneath you." She placed a hand on the younger girl's arm as Isabelle sat up. "Perhaps you would do well to take my advice and consider moving into a room here at the base."
"I've been thinking about it. I just... I don't know. I feel lost, sometimes. I'm so angry at the world, but I just want to break down and -- Sorry." Izzy's face grew cold and stony. "Forget it. It's just that Robbie gets me so worked up."
Mullarky started to speak again, hoping to further drive a wedge between Izzy and her brother. Her words were cut short, however, by the sound the room's intercom clicking on. A man's voice rang out, saying "Dr. Mullarky! There's reports of a metahuman incident taking place near Highgate Cemetery."
The doctor nodded quickly, locking eyes with Izzy, who was already moving towards the table containing her equipment. "Thunderfist will take care of it, don't worry. You haven't alerted the Pendragons yet, have you?" she added, hoping that the answer would be negative. She wanted Izzy kept far away from that band of do-gooders, for as long as possible.
The man's response was somewhat less than she had hoped. "We haven't sent word to Lyonesse, doctor, but there's a member of the team already here on the premises. He's offered to give Thunderfist a lift to the scene."
"Sounds good to me," Izzy responded. Mullarky turned to see that the woman was mostly in costume now, having slipped on the massive gloves that powered her trademark ability. "Gives me a chance to see one of them in action."
Mullarky tried to appear positive. "Of course, dear. Head down to the briefing room and meet your partner, then. Best of luck to you."
Thunderfist stepped out of the room, trying to project all the confidence that she remembered seeing in pictures of her mother and grandfather. With a grin, she strode down the halls, eager to see which Pendragon she was going to be paired with. She pictured Union Jack, in his classic uniform. A meeeting of two legacy heroes, with so much in common... or Spitfire, who'd adventured alongside her grandfather in World War II... or even Captain Britain! That was one lass with a heroic pedigree!
She stepped into the meeting room... and came face-to-face with the one thing she never would have predicated. "A... dragon?"
Rathoon, still wearing his shades, gave her a thumb's up. "Nice to meetcha."
Izzy felt slightly unnerved, but managed to stammer "The same to you." She moved past the dragon as best as possible, looking at the black-suited man nearby. "Dr. Weller? What's going on?"
"We have reports of several casualties in the area around Highgate. Magic's been reported."
Thunderfist nodded. "Any description on the perpetrator?"
Weller turned to a computer screen and directed their attention to the image held there. "Pendragons files says he's named Flay. He's been associated with Baroness Blood and Nekros in the past."
Rathoon leaned close. "That face is a sham," he said, his deep voice making Izzy jump in surprise. "He's not of this world, I'll give you that."
"You think he's an alien?" Thunderfist asked, immediately feeling silly for trying to carry on a conversation with a dragon.
"Not from another planet, luv. He's from a that place everyone always keeps hoping will freeze over."
"Oh," Izzy replied, not having much else to say to that. "You're... the Pendragon?"
"I'm a dragon. But, yes, I consider the Pendragons to be my homeys."
Izzy stared at him. "You don't sound much like a dragon."
"You don't sound much like a Thunderfist, either. What's with the name, anyway? Sounds like a gay porno."
Thunderfist bristled. "It happens to be a very prestigious identity!"
"So is Rathoon," the dragon countered. "It's dragon for Cherry-Poppin' Daddy. No lie."
Turning back to Weller, Izzy said "Can we get this over with?"
Rathoon chuckled. "I thought you'd never ask!"
Highgate Cemetery
The elder demon called Flay stared at the assembled police forces and smiled a toothy grin. He was dressed in a dark, ash-gray suit that clung to every inch of his frame like a second skin, but it was his face that attracted most of the attention. His eyes were glowing reddish-white and a tiny bit of magical blood seeped from a cracked lip, running in a tiny rivulet down his chin.
It was the face of Evil.
"Bring me Ghost Rider!" he bellowed, his voice amplified by the magic in the area. All those who stood behind their squad cars ducked down as if under attack.
Flay stood inside the gates of the cemetery, surrounded by an army of corpses that he'd summoned from their graves. The famous and the infamous alike were nothing more than fodder for his army, a means to an end. He had no qualms about disturbing their rest, for their souls were long gone, leaving behind rotting meat and bones.
"We have no idea where that stupid git is!" one of the officers yelled in reply. At his feet was the smoldering corpse of a fellow officer, whom Flay had killed in the first few moments of the stand-off. The police had then responded with a hail of gunfire, punching dozens of holes in Flay's suit and body. It had served only to frighten the assembled policemen, who had come in response to reports of a madman killing people en route to the cemetery.
For Flay, it was all a means to an end. Since being resurrected from an eons-long slumber thanks to the Barrier, he'd destroyed the entity called Vengeance* and clashed with the Pendragons**, but he was still restless. He desired conflict. He desired war. He desired to destroy the false gods, who pranced about in leather and chains. He wanted Ghost Rider.
(*Back in Ghost Rider U.K. # 12. **Check it out in Pendragons # 22.)
"If you don't give him to me, then my boys here will begin marching... and you don't want that." Flay's eyes flashed again. "You truly don't." At his cue, the zombies began shuffling forward with lurching movements, their arms outstretched.
The police opened fire upon them, sending several of the undead staggering back under the brunt of the attack. Flay, however, remained where he was standing. He summoned a magical field around him that glowed bright orange and yellow. All bullets that touched it hissed and popped apart, leaving him untouched. He had allowed them to wound him earlier, simply to show his power, but he had lost patience for that now. He wanted this so-called Spirit of Vengeance and he wanted him now.
It had been months since he had last been seen, though there had been reports of a differently-attired entity who possessed the same flame-skulled appearance. Whether they were one and the same meant little to Flay... If there were two such entities, he would kill them both.
The great shadow that fell over him made Flay give pause, however. He had fully expected to hear the roar of a motorcycle at some point, followed by the rough sound of someone going on about vengeance and punishment... but he had not quite anticipated glancing up to see a thirty-foot long dragon soaring overhead.
Not to mention the purple-suited young woman who had leapt rather daringly from the dragon's back.
Flay managed to take one step back before the woman landed directly atop his mystic shield. She landed feet-first but quickly raised both fists into the air and slammed them downwards. The thundering boom that resulted from her assault was enough to cause some of the policemen to scream in agony...
and the magic shield shimmered, and dissipated.
Flay could scarcely believe his eyes. "Wonderful," he hissed. "I seek the attentions of a minor godling and I get a dragon and his little girl. Save me from the sheer effrontery of it all."
Rathoon swooped down low, grabbing several zombies in his claws hands. "Sorry to do this to you fellows, but I'm afraid you're in the wrong neighborhood. You should sleeping below ground, far from the maddening cry of MTV-Europe." With a tremendous roar, Rathoon rammed his fists -- and the zombies -- into the earth. He shoved them as deep as he could, splintering their bodies in the process. "Now chill," he added.
Thunderfist clenched both hands and stood before Flay. She tried very hard to ignore the smell and sight of the zombies around her, but it was enough to make her stomach churn and she cursed herself when her voice trembled. "Give up now... Or you'll pay the price."
Flay regarded her evenly for a moment before bellowing in laughter. His zombies were ignoring the now silent policement, instead swarming towards the dragon, who had landed and was yelling "Are you talking to me? Because I don't see any other dragons here!" as he waited for his foes to come to him.
Flay sneered, saying "I'm sure that those oversized gloves of yours are great fun at parties, lass, but you're hardly a threat to me." He raised one hand and channeled a powerful magic burst. The attack struck Thunderfist full in the torso, sending her hurtling backwards. She crashed against the gates of the cemetery, bending them with the force of her landing. "Though I suppose your death might serve notice to my foe that I will kill more until he arrives."
Rathoon opened his mouth and let loose a torrent of flame. The fires cooked the dead, sending up a foul, acrid odor.
For Flay, the scent was one that he hadn't smelled in far too long. Grinning, he turned to face the dragon, his eyes slitting like a snake's. "A Great Dragon. How wonderful. I thought you were all dead... those that weren't slumbering the sleep of the foolish, that is."
Rathoon stomped forward. "Kiss my scaly ass, demon! I may be the last of my kind, but I'm still more dragon than is needed to take care of you!"
Flay waited until the dragon had lumbered close, his head lowered as if to snap Flay in half. When he was in range, Flay whipped out a vicious backhand that struck Rathoon full in the face. The blow was powerful enough to have shattered a normal man's skull, but to the dragon, it was no more than a painful tap.
The dragon held his head in its new position for a moment, his eyes narrowing and smoke beginning to rise up out of his mouth. "Listen, you little git... My kind were trodding this planet when you demons were still trying to climb out of satan's backside." He brought his face close to Flay's. "Burn."
The flame attack sent Flay howling away in agony. Pain such as he had not felt in centuries washed over him and he felt a brief burst of amazement at the realization that he was no longer bored.
Not at all.
The dragon had his full, undivided attention.
So much so that he was completely unawares of Thunderfist slowly rising to her feet. She moved towards the flaming demon, who was uttering several spells aimed at healing his fractured form. Her left gauntlet was broken and sparking, but her right was clenched and ready. "You're a demon, are you?" she asked.
Flame looked at her from beneath smoldering brows, with flesh that was bubbling from the flames. "So I've been called, little mortal. And I suggest your remove yourself from this scene. This is a battle between your elders."
"Can't do that."
"Why not?" Flay asked, shivering as the last of the flames upon him died away. He saw Rathoon moving close, but this time he kept his attention on the closer foe.
"Because I'm Thunderfist. I'm a hero. And heroes don't run, no matter how terrible the odds."
Flay started to reply but he found himself unable to. Something inside him had been terribly hurt by the dragon's assault and he felt pain -- fresh and renewed -- washing over him. He moved to flee, eager to be where he could rest and recover.
Thunderfist, however, lunged for him and pegged him with a powerful roundhouse blow. The punch echoed loudly, like a crack of thunder....
... and in that moment, Isabelle "Izzy" Parkinson felt a peculiar sense of deja vu. She felt the blow reverberate up her arm, causing an ache in her joints, and she knew that her mother... and her grandfather... and, yes, even her sodding brother... had all felt this. They had all experienced the peculiar rush of adrenaline of a fight, the cheers of an audience and the watchful stares of their peers.
She watched as Flay collapsed to the ground, his form crumpling like a broken toy. "Bugger off, you smegging pansy." With a final kick to the groin, Izzy took a step away from the villain and turned to look at the smoldering inferno that had been a number of zombies. Those that weren't burned were slowly slumping to the ground or wandering aimlessly now that Flay was not controlling them. She looked at Rathoon. "Can you stop the flames before they spread to the rest of the cemetery?"
The great dragon chuckled. "Of course, dearie. And might I say that you've come quite a long way, baby."
Izzy blinked. "What?"
"I meant that in my day, women weren't quite so forceful. I'm impressed!"
Thunderfist grinned, despite herself. She'd never found it easy to trust people, but this giant beast was positively disarming. "We should talk it over with the authorities. Let them know it's all okay."
"And then," Rathoon whispered, "You and I will go watch some telly and have fish and chips!"
Three Hours Later -- the shores of Lyonesse
Izzy sat on the sand, letting the cool breeze wash over her. Her gauntlets, mask and boots lay beside her and she had her feet in the surf, enjoying the feel of the cold waters between her toes. "You don't understand. Robbie killed dad when he became a hero. Broke his heart."
Rathoon, perched beside her, took up most of the surrounding beach. The sun was setting, casting both heroes in half-shadow. "Very sad," Rathoon whispered. "But the past is the past. And you only have so many relatives. Living with hate... It wastes so much time." He looked up into the sky, his voice sounding wistful. "Look at me. All alone. The last time I saw my lover, I raised such a fuss over some little detail. And now he's gone. Forever."
Izzy looked up at him. "I'm alone, too. No family, aside from Robbie."
The dragon put an arm around her and pulled her close. "Well... Perhaps you and your brother will never be close. I cannot say. But if you want to have someone to hang with... I'm free most days."
"Thanks...."
The dragon said nothing more, knowing that the girl beside him was very troubled. He felt her pain and it matched his own.
And so they remained, until long after the sun had gone down on the both of them.
Author's Notes
Welcome to the first issue of our newest Pendragons Universe title! With the way everything's grown and expanded since I first wrote Black Knight: Destiny Walk # 0 all those years ago, I figured that we needed something like this -- a catch-all title that would have rotating lead features. So now you can find Dark Guard, Thunderfist, the new Doctor Strange, the Commonwealth, Ultraforce and a whole lot more in one, centralized location.
This issue's team-up came about because I've had a number of requests for spotlights on both Izzy and Rathoon since their introductions in Pendragons 25 & 26, respectively. Plus, when I asked Gary Dreslinski who he would like to see in our first issue, he replied "either 'fist or the dragon!" so I figured "why not both?"
And here you go.
Keep in touch,
Barry Reese
