Issue One - Free Enterprise - by Bard

The Dynasty: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Just back from defending the world from another alternate universal threat, the Dynasty returns to find the world even more screwed up than they left it. Declaring a war on terrorism mainly to get back into the swing of things, the team finds that while they've become close over the past two years, they've
also become a hell of a lot farther apart. But while the team is worrying about their seeming lack of lives and the forces of global hate, terror, and drug smuggling, a new problem arising in the East to challenge the Dynasty's return, and the media hounds them over their disappearance when the world
needed them most.

- - - - -

The sky was aglow with pinks and yellows as Antonio de Lavara stood on the porch of his Colombian mansion and bathed in the dawn's newfound glory. It was a magnificent day, and would only become greater once the shipment was away. It was astounding what you could do with technology these days. Once it would have taken months to grow the sixteen tons of cocaine en route to America, but now...now it had taken but a few short weeks. 2010 was shaping to be a glorious year, even if it was only February.

Antonio's quiet, greedy thoughts were interrupted by an explosion on the other side of his complex. Though in his forties, his body had been toned by years of fighting and his flight into his room was quick. The radio on the desk from his small security force was screaming. Over and over were the words "El diablo! El diablo!"

The industrialist grabbed the radio and shouted curtly, "The devil what, you fools? What is going on?" As he slid the pistol out from under his desk, becoming wary of the reply, the radio crackled and the static vanished, instead replaced by a low hum that reverberated over the growing explosions outside. As he looked over at his window, Antonio saw a floating woman, short, Japanese, just the kind he liked in his bed. She wore a perfect kimono, woven with silver and green threads. She looked at him and her eyes...were not human. Green symbols and letters flashed across them, and the slow roar of rockets came from the small jet engines that seemed to grow organically out of her back. She gave a vicious smile.

"Konichiwa, Lavara-san. I am Keiko Nagashima of the Dynasty. Welcome to hell."

***

"N!ews N!ow! Nova News from around the globe! Tonight, a press conference with Caestus Pax over the growing rumors of corruption in Project Utopia. Prominent Teragen spokesman Count Raoul Orzaiz addresses assembled Novas in New York. And our top story tonight, the Dynasty strikes again! This time in Columbia, unseating former drug kingpin Antonio de Lavara in a bloody assault. If you'd like to see more, press now!"

"You've selected our top story! Accessing...."

A tall African man stands in front of a burning complex surrounded by jungles. "This is Milo Andrews reporting live from Columbia, where earlier today the Nova anarchist cell, the Dynasty, made itself known again today after three months of silence, when they deposed Antonio de Lavara, the French industrialist-turned drug kingpin, in his home in the jungles of Columbia. Wait...we have a message coming in...it's overriding our transmission. I'm going to put it through."

A good looking British woman dressed in camouflage cargo pants, army boots, and tank top that reads "I Saved the World and All I Got Was This Bloody Shirt" appears on the screen. Behind her are assembled six other individuals, several of them obviously Novas. Flanking her on her right side a tall, good looking white man with black hair and glowing eyes wears a completely black eufiber suit with a glowing sunburst over his heart and leans against a wall. Beside him is a tall, heavily built man wearing overalls and a white t-shirt, with black hair and green eyes he looks like he stepped out of an ad for Russian Communism. His hands are crossed over his chest and he stands flanking the other side of the woman. Between them stands an average sized Chinese man who could easily be Jet Li's twin brother, dressed in black combat pants and boots wearing a black trench coat and mirror shades.

Behind the three stand a second trio. In the middle is a rugged but good looking Australian man wearing bush gear and a tilly hat, sunglasses hang from around his neck. On his left is an albino woman in a lab coat with an odd piece of organic-looking machinery on one side of her face, slim and covering her cheek and over her eye like a sort of thin mechanical monocle. To the man's other side is a slim Japanese woman wearing a silver and green kimono across which slides some weird form of coding. The British woman speaks.

"This is Jenny Artemis for the Dynasty. Sorry for our absence, world, we were off fighting invaders from a Hollow Earth that buggered into the Quantum flow in the 1950s. As you can see, we're back, and we figure that little demonstration should let you know we bloody well mean business. We are not the tools of Utopia. We aren't Divis Mal's followers. We hold allegiance to no nation or creed but our own. We're here to fight for YOU world, and we're here to make this planet just a bit better. Now that we've removed de Lavara from Columbia, and after the events in Paris in 2008, we're declaring a war on terrorists and drug lords. Before I end this transmission, I have a private message to all the poor sods that fall under those two groups: watch out you dirty little toe rags, Auntie Jenny's watching you, and she's got her big bad wolves wild and hungry. The Dynasty out."

The transmission cuts back to the N! reporter. He looks startled then realizes he's on, apparently by someone whispering to him. "Ah, right. We're back. Well, a dramatic message from the Dynasty. As our viewers are probably aware, the Dynasty formed in 2008 from a collection of Elites and underground Nova scientists and is headed by former London police inspector Jennifer Artemis. After the somewhat sketchy events of foiling an alien invasion shortly after their inception, they Dynasty were shortly catapulted into the world stage with the appearance of the..." he here coughs, apparently to choke back laughter, "Super Warping Action Rangers, who first claimed to be heroes and then the enemies of humanity. Thankfully, their defeat was swift and although there are still large parts of Micronesia that are currently uninhabitable due to the self proclaimed 'Green Ranger's' radioactive talents. After that...well I'm sure all our viewers remember how they foiled the Crimson Sword's terrorist agenda. In 2009 they disappeared and haven't been seen since and boy, folks, I think you'll agree with me that we could have used them when Divis Mal beat Caestus Pax into the ground at Bahrain..."

The computer screen shut off, bringing the room to dark again. A curl of smoke wafted from a clenched fist and two slits of crimson glow opened, exhaling fetid gas. Long nails clamped out a the butt of the joint and the glowing slits turned to face the small man before them. A low, almost slithering voice enunciated softly, "And this is the information that you bring me? I sit and wait and all you dare bring me is tales that would entertain children?"

The small man bowed deeply into the rich carpet, "I apologize greatly, Master, but what they say is true. You have seen the other reports I have brought you. They ARE back, just as Chien said they would be." He quivered on the ground, the single greasy shank of black hair on his head falling around his neck like a braided noose. The figure stood from his chair and walked forward, grabbing the hair and hauling the small man to his feet. Unfolded, the shadow man was some seven feet in height, dressed in flowing robes. A hand sung through the darkness and long nails sliced like steel into soft flesh, through hard bone, and a soft thunk and hiss of liquid's flight sung in the dark.
The shadow man sighed and returns to the desk, navigating the darkness like a second home. A staccato rhythm tapped away on the stone desk as outside a blizzard howled. Slowly, a smile of sharp white appeared in the dark, and the man laughed like the devil.

***

Smoke curled from the ashtray as Jennifer Artemis stubbed her cigarette out and lit a new one. Taking a deep puff she rose from her chair and surveyed her bridge. It was funny, that. Her bridge. She had a ship, and not just any ship, but an alien space ship stolen from a parallel universe that had disappeared into the mists of time just around the time that rock'n'roll had become popular. It was overly big, and it certainly didn't look nice, but it was invisible to just about any method of scanning, and it did provide a means of transport as well as removing the Dynasty from the Earth's surface. Running a hand through her hair to smooth it out, the de facto leader of the Dynasty strode off the bridge and into the mess hall.

It still amazed her what the Architect had managed to do with the ship. Not only had the Japanese Nova changed the entire system to run on English, but she had also rewired the ships molecular transmogrification array, it's primary weapons bank, into one of those odd machines from that American show her brother John had been so fond of watching on the tele. Still, there was something uneasy about all of this. She refused to believe that these machines could make a good pack of fags, or even a decent pint, since Keiko the God-Damned Architect had insisted on programming them to remove all carcinogens and poisons from the food. Well what was the point've that?

It wasn't just the machines that were putting her on edge, it was the whole situation. She found it odd sometimes to look back on the past two years and just generally marvel that she'd been put in charge of the six most powerful people on the face of the Earth, and not only had she kept them from killing each other, but she'd actually grown to like them, even if the Architect was a vegetarian, Rez kept trying to get in her knickers, and Yi had all the personality of someone who'd popped their clogs. Still, they were her team and she was beginning to air somewhat on the side of enjoying their company, though if she understood correctly right now Rez, Carpenter, and Vladimir were sleeping off their hangovers, Yi had asked for a week's leave in Tibet before he got started, the Geneticist wanted to stay in South America to pack up her lab, and the Architect had decided to interface with the OpNet for a week. All in all her team had now left her, Jennifer Artemis, alone on a ship on the day that she was quickly realizing was her thirtieth birthday, even if the ship did get sunrise every thirty minutes or so, so she was having trouble telling what day it was.

Sighing, she waved her hand over the non-alcoholic slop in front of her and it foamed up to a nice pint of bitter. Well, at least that was one use for her power. She lit a cigarette and was rewarded with the sweet smell of nicotine. "Happy bloody birthday, Jenny."

***

Smoke hung low over the bar and mingled with the smell of spilt beer and worker sweat. Gathered around a small table and a large mountain of glass, the three men goaded each other on and laughed raucously. It was a good bar for not being paid attention to, everyone had their own troubles, and Novas were not such a strange sight in Russia these days.

"So then I says to him, 'Mate, I don' care how big'a gun you got, that koala's gonna eat you alive'!" one of them said, slamming his fifteenth empty beer mug down on the table, rattling the small pile in front of him. He had a rugged face and a tilly hat and looked like he had just stepped from a Crocodile Dundee movie.

The largest man in the group, a Russian in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, who wore no shoes or socks as his feet were already calloused as rough hewn earth, laughed heavily then looked at the Australian. "I do not know why that is funny, Strathmour, but it is. Now, when I told Geological Inspector that it was safer to sleep with Siberian tiger than walk on plateau, that was funny situation." He grinned and threw back another beer.

The third man just stared at the two. He was dressed casually, slacks and a polo shirt, and seemed utterly perplexed. "You two are insane. I have absolutely no clue what either of you are saying, but I have to admit...the beer here is damn good. Another round!" shouted the man with a grin.
As the beleaguered bartender made his way over, three identical buzzes came from each man, or more from their clothing. The Australian was the first to go for his, removing a small disk from his hat. "Strathmour here."

The voice coming over the comlink was Japanese. "Jono-san, I suggest you bring Spectrum and Vladimir to the Ark immediately. Jenny-san wishes to speak with everyone."

There was a collective sigh. Then there was a whoosh as the three men moved without moving out to each of their sides, ghost images flying out until they dissipated, and the rush of air as it filled the empty spot. The bartender looked at the empty chair and froze. A silence filled the room. "Who's going to PAY for this?!?!?"

***

"Alright, I know I was a bit unclear when I said war on terrorism, organized crime, and just about everything else. I did not mean that we come back to earth and take a vacation. I meant that we go out and knock some bloody heads together! I suppose I didn't explain myself clearly when I laid out the game plan here, so here's how it's going to work: each of you is going to pick the one group of sodding bastards on earth that you hate the most, and then you are going to make them wish they'd never been born. Got it?"

Six heads nodded, for though they had been looking for some time off, all of them realized that the timing of their new mission was just as important. The world knew the Dynasty had meant business before they left, now it needed to know that they still meant it. Finally, Carpenter, in his business casual, smiled. A dull aura surrounded him and his shirt and slacks melded into black eufiber, the star burst suddenly rising from a point of light out of his chest. "Dibs on the Mob. Always wanted to crack some wise guy heads."

Jenny nodded. "I'm taking the skinheads. Still owe those sods one for."

Yi looked up and pushed the mirror shades up his nose with a knuckle. "Triads."

Rez grinned a bit, pushed back in his chair, and slid the tilly hat a bit further down his brow. "It'll be good to get me some poachers."

Quantum coding flickered across the Architect's nano-tech body, showing a deep state of computation. "The Yakuza could do to be brought down a notch." said the cyberkinetic, finally.
Jenny turned to the remaining members of her team. The Geneticist seemed barley to be paying attention while Vladimir was deep in thought. Finally, the big Russian spoke. "Zhukov megasyndicate has gone far to ruining Mother Russia. I think I will see if they are liking a bit of ruining on themselves."

"Angelique?...bloody hell, she's cloned herself again. Rez, where the hell is she?" Jenny growled, spinning to face Strathmour. The Australian teleporter sighed and sat back in his seat, closing his eyes. The air before his face began to flicker and whoosh. Like fractured off it and spun prisms into the room. Meanwhile, the clone disintegrated into it's base compounds, leaving behind a dinner plate sized arachnid with long, wiry legs and a sort of antenna-like bone protruding from it's exoskeleton, at the will of the Dynasty's leader. Jenny Artemis' control over matter was, like her will, absolute.
"Looks like a cafe in Paris. Double espresso, biscotti..."

"Dammit, I don't need to know what she's eating. Just go and bloody well bring her back!" Jenny harshly replied. The other four sighed and took steps backward. Those two had been at it for weeks since they had returned. Rez had pushed his abilities to the limits in the parallel reality and even though the Ark had it's own teleportation system, he still acted as the teams best means of transportation, as the ship's teleportation drive only accommodated a single human sized passenger at a time.

"Go to blazers, Jenny, I'm not your dog!" the younger man shouted back at her, standing as well. "This ship's got it's own flamin' teleport system. You go get'er! Me, I'm outta here!" And with a distortion of space and a rush as air filled the empty void, he was gone.

Jenny sighed. "Guess I'll do it myself," she muttered, stomping off for the gate room, leaving the other four Novas to stare at the table.

"So," said Carpenter, looking up, "Poker anyone?"

Next Issue: Rumble in the Bronx!, Spectrum and Rex Mundi take to the streets of New York and St.Petersburg to shake down the Camparelli-Zukhov Megasyndicate!