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Hawkeye (Kate Bishop) vs. Cybermen (Mondasian)

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12:7 - Alexandra Amberson vs. Danger Room

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12:7 - Tallahassee (Zombie Land) vs. The Town of Silent Hill

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12:7 - The Overlook Hotel vs. Din Djarin

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12:7 - Android 8 vs. Midnighter

Android 8: 9
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12:7 - Lucky the Leprechaun vs. Snap, Crackle, and Pop

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12:7 - Michonne vs. Monster Island

Michonne: 2
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12:7 - Apollo vs. Quetzalcoatl

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Dig 'em Frog: 3


12:7 - Scar (Disney) vs. David Xanatos

Scar (Disney): 5
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12:7 - Mario vs. Willy the Hillbilly

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Agent Carter S03E04 Match 17518 Fighting Yank vs. Arcade

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Episode 4: Don’t Go Nowhere

August 2nd, 1947.  Los Angeles, California.  Metropolitan State Hospital 

“It’s so lovely to see you come visit Miss Frost like this, Mr. Manfredi,” said the doctor.  “You must care about her a great deal.”  The man who looked like Joseph Manfredi knelt next to the chair where the once critically acclaimed actress Whitney Frost sat.  Ever since her encounter with Zero Matter, she had been reduced to a near catatonic state.  She just sat in her straitjacket and gazed out the window with a bland expression on her face. 

“We go a long way back,” ‘Joseph’ said gazing at her.  “I just got to believe that she’s still in there.  That one of these days you people could bring her back.”  The doctor nodded nervously.  “Well, there are always new therapies we try.  But it will take time, and I can’t guarantee they won’t be painful.  But there is a chance…”  ‘Joseph’ rose to his feet, gently stroking Whitney’s cheek.  “I got to go now,” he whispered.  “You take care of yourself, beautiful.  Ok?”  Whitney remained silent. 

‘Joseph’ turned and walked out of the room, and the doctor locked the door behind them.  “We will keep you informed if there are any changes, Mr. Manfredi,” the doctor said as they walked down the hall.  They passed a room and heard shouting coming from inside.  ‘Joseph’ shook his head.  “He’s still going at it, huh?” 

“Mr. Carter is just having a rough morning,” said the doctor, increasing his pace.  “He’s been having a rough morning every time I come here,” remarked ‘Joseph’.  “I wouldn’t want Whitney to be disturbed because that nut doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Manfredi, but we’re…” 

“Doing the best you can.  I know.”  ‘Joseph’ turned down a highway that led to the front door of the hospital.  “I can find my way from here.  See you next week, doc.  You just make sure you let me know if there’s any changes.  Got it?”  The doctor gulped as ‘Joseph’ walked out the door of the hospital.  He gathered himself and turned toward a nurse with black hair pushing a cart with trays of medication.  “Nurse?  Nurse!  I’m sorry, you’re one of the new interns.  What was your name again?” 

“Locke, doctor.  Nurse Locke.” 

“Well, Nurse Locke, if you could find me the doctor in charge of Mr. Carter, please?  I want to discuss a possible change in Mr. Carter’s regimen.” 

 Nurse Locke continued on her way.  “Yes, doctor.” 

Outside of the hospital, Dmitri, still disguised as Joseph Mafredi, walked toward a large truck parked a few blocks away.  He walked up to the drivers’ side and looked in on the muscular gentleman at the wheel.  “Is everything prepared?” Dmitri said in Joseph’s voice.  “Everything’s green, Mr. Manfredi.  We’re ready to roll,” the man said.  “The boss is just waiting for you to give him the word.”  Dmitri gave a last look at the hospital.  “Do it.  He can have his fun now.”  The man put his hand to his ear, tapping the small, circular device in it.  “Did you hear that, Arcade? Client has given you the all clear.” 

“Well, goody, Mr. Chambers!  Miss Locke!  Are the rest of our guests ready to play?” 

Miss Locke covertly tapped the device tucked in her right ear.  “Yes, Arcade.  A good assortment of doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors.  Should be quite a spectacle.” 

“Brilliant!  And I must say you look quite a treat in that uniform, Miss Locke.” 

Miss Locke shot a look toward a hidden camera in the ceiling.  “Thank you, Arcade.” 

“Alrighty then!  Enough of the chit chat!  It’s show time!” 

As if on cue, large metallic doors started slamming shut in front of each exit of the hospital.  People shouted out in alarm as every avenue of escape was blocked by walls of steel.  “Yowza, yowza, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice cried out over the PA system.  “Step right up!  Welcome to the midway!  You might be crazy to get in here, but you would be even crazier to try to leave!” 

“What the hell?” the doctor said in shock.  A group of interns rushed to one of the steel doors, but as soon as they touched it they screamed in pain.  The sound of electric current and the smell of burning flesh filled the hallway.  After a few moments, they fell dead on the tiled floor.  “Ah ah ah!” chided Arcade.  “Just one of the many shocking things to see, folks!  Hurry, hurry!  How about trying the shooting gallery?  Hit the target, win the kewpie doll!”  A panel opened in the wall to reveal a machine gun that peppered the hallway with bullets.  People ran and screamed in terror as the sound of a calliope playing carnival music blared over the PA. 

Los Angeles, California.  Auerbach Theatrical Agency (SSR Office). 

Rose Roberts sat at her desk typing as Aloysius Samberly walked in from the hidden entrance to the SSR.  He leaned against the desk in an attempt to be casual.  “So, Rose, how you doing today?” 

“Fine,” she said, not looking up from her typewriter.  Samberly cleared his throat.  “Well, um… would like to know what I’ve found about that key Chief Sousa gave me?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Samberly looked hurt.  “Why not?”  Rose turned towards him with a look of irritation.  “Because you’ve been looking over that key for days and have found nothing.  And if you had found something you would have told it to Chief Sousa, and no one knows where he is.”   Samberly gave a sigh of resignation.  “Ok, fine.  I seem to have hit a brick wall.  I haven’t learned anything new from any analysis I’ve tried on that key.  Which is why, um… I was thinking about taking a break, and I was wondering if um… you could join me for a bite to eat?”  Rose smiled at Samberly.  “Why, Aloysius, are you asking me on a date?” 

“What? A date?  No!  Well, that is…  Yes.  I suppose I am.”  Before Rose could answer, the entrance to the SSR office opened and a number of agents ran out.  “What’s going on?” Rose asked Agent Ryan, who was in charge in Sousa’s absence.   “We just got an anonymous tip,” he replied hurriedly.  “Report of gunfire coming from the Met State Hospital.” 

“Isn’t that where Whitney Frost is being held?” said Samberly.  “Don’t worry, Samberly,” one of the agents said mockingly.  “We’re headed over there now.  We won’t let her make you faint again.”  The other agents chuckled as Ryan put on his hat.  “Enough of the comedy!  Get your gear!  If someone is trying to bust out Frost, it’s our job to find out what’s going on and keep her behind bars!  Move it!”  Rose and Samberly looked on stunned as the agents all headed out the door. 

From his car parked across the street, Dmitri watched as the agents ran out of the Auerbach Talent Agency, piled into cars and sped off.  He removed his mask of Joseph Manfredi, and looked at the new mask he had sitting on the seat next to him.  It was the face of Daniel Sousa. 

 Metropolitan State Hospital 

Bruce Carter fought against the leather restraints that held him pinned to his bed.  He grunted with exertion, but they would not give.  He could hear the sounds of screaming and gunfire from outside his door, and the incessant carnival music.  People are in trouble.  They need your help, Bruce.  Bruce closed his eyes tight and tried to block out the voice.  “No!  I can’t do anything!  I can do nothing!”  Nothing?  A Carter can do nothing?!  It was the Carters that fought at Bunker Hill!  It was the Carters that fought at Gettysburg!  “I’ve already fought!  I don’t want to fight anymore!” 

“Now here this, ladies and gentlemen!” Arcade’s voice shouted over the PA.  “You want more thrills and chills?  Well, don’t worry!  You can find it all with Arcade!  In just a moment, we’re going to have some more guests!  That’s right, folks!  Fresh from the intensive care ward, they’re the most blood thirsty bunch of loonies this side of the Mississippi!  And they’re just dying to meet you!  And you’ll be dying when you meet them!” 

Do you hear that, Bruce?  That loon is going to release the violent patients!  If the traps he’s set up don’t kill those people, then those criminals will!  You have to help them!  Bruce flexed his muscles and roared as he pushed against the straps.  Finally they snapped and flew apart.  Bruce fell of the bed, breathing heavily.  You see?  You do have strength left!  Remember, Bruce?  “Over there, over there!  Send the word, send the word, over there!  That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, the drums rum tumming everywhere!”  Bruce covered his ears to block out the voice singing, gritting his teeth.  He screamed in agony.  “SHUT UP!!”  He slammed a fist into the floor that smashed a hole in it.  Bruce looked at his fist, then toward the white gift box sitting on the chair.  The voice continued to sing.  So prepare, say a prayer.  Send the word, send the word to beware.” 

Nurses and doctors ran down the hallway as a group of patients chased after them, armed with whatever they could find.  They had passed Bruce’s door when the door flew off it’s hinges.  The patients looked behind them in confusion.  They saw Bruce Carter III, in blue pants, a shirt with an American flag on it, a cape, a tricorn hat and a mask.  The Fighting Yank stood boldly with a resolute look on his face as the voice in his head sang all the louder.  “We’re coming over, we’re coming over.  And we won’t come back till it’s over over there!” 


Can the Fighting Yank defeat Arcade’s death traps? 

What are Dmitri’s plans for the SSR? 

Stay Tuned and find out! 

Game On! 

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After reading up a little on him, the Fighting Yank probably should win, despite how dorky he looks. But, I have always liked Arcade and I think the drama of this season you are doing would be best served by him winning. So I am going with him. 

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One of the mental patients charged toward Fighting Yank with a broken pipe.  Yank caught the pipe and flung it and the patient behind him down the hall.  The rest of patients tried rushing him en masse, but Yank walked through them with ease, slamming them against the walls and knocking them out in one punch.  “Hold it!”  Yank stopped in place, staring at the last patient holding a knife to Whitney Frost’s throat.  She remained expressionless as the blade caused a drip of blood to appear on her neck.  “You get down on the ground, flag-man!  Or she gets it!” 

Yank said nothing.  But slowly, he rose into the air.  The patient’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the man hovering a few feet away from him.  “Stop!  Stop it!  Stay away from me!”  Yank suddenly shot forward, landing a punch that sent the patient flying backward until landing unconscious on the floor.  He turned to look at Whitney, her breathing becoming shaky.  “Are you alright, miss?” he asked.  Whitney Frost just stared in disbelief at her attacker.  “He was going to cut my face.  I have a beautiful face.” 

Suddenly, Yank heard a click from behind him.   Then the voice in Bruce Carter’s head cried out.  Bruce!  Behind you!  Yank spun around to see Miss Locke with revolver drawn and opening fire.  He felt the bullets strike his skin, and ricochet off of him.  To his horror, they were redirected into Whitney Frost.  The blood from her wound stained her straitjacket as she fell to the ground.  Yank went to her side, trying to stop the bleeding.  It’s too late for that, Bruce.  We’re going to lose her.  “No!  We don’t lose anyone!  We don’t leave anyone behind!”  Whitney Frost looked up at Fighting Yank with a calm expression.  “Hello.  I’m Whitney Frost.   No.  No.  Agnes.  My name was…”  With that, Whitney Frost, formerly known as Agnes Cully, breathed her last. 

Yank glared as Miss Locke, who desperately attempted to reload her pistol.  But in an instant he had flown across the room and pinned her to the wall with his hand around her throat.  She gasped for breath but couldn’t escape his tightening grip.  Bruce!  Focus on the mission, Bruce!  She must be a part of this!  She can give us information!  “Where…is…Arcade?” Yank said menacingly.  “I…  I… don’t know,” Miss Locke wheezed.  “Don’t lie to me!  Tell me where he is, and I will end this.  Don’t tell me and I’ll end you!” 

Miss Locke coughed and nodded frantically.  “Boiler room!  He wants to be in building when the game starts!”  Yank threw to the floor and ran for the stairwell.  “Ooh, naughty, naughty, Miss Locke,” said Arcade’s voice over the PA.  “We’re going to have to talk about this when we get home.  Head for the tunnel and meet up with Mr. Chambers.  We’ve got SSR company outside trying to figure out a way in.  Just let me deal with our kook in a cape!” 

Los Angeles, California.  Auerbach Theatrical Agency (SSR Office). 

The door to the office opened and Daniel Sousa entered, startling Rose and Samberly.  “Chief!” exclaimed Rose.  “Where have you been?  The SSR’s been called to Met State Hospital.” 

“Yes, I know, Rose,” said ‘Daniel’.  “They have the situation under control.  But I need to speak with Samberly.”  Samberly looked pleased.  “Me?  I mean, uh, sure, Chief Sousa.  Anything you need.” 

“Good.  What I need is that key I gave you.  From the Arena Club.”  Samberly gave a nervous look to Rose.  “That key?  Well, Chief, I’m sorry I haven’t found anything new but…”  ‘Daniel’ waved his hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry about it.  Where do you think I’ve been?  I’ve been working with Howard Stark to try to learn more about the Council’s activities.  And we’ve found a new lead.  That’s why I need the key.”  Samberly shrugged a pulled the pin out of his lab coat pocket.  “Do you think this can help us find out who shot Agent Thompson?” Rose asked.  “Believe me, Rose, this is much bigger than any one agent.  Now the key, Samberly.” 

Samberly gave a look to Rose, then handed over the key.  “I sure hope this lead pans out, Chief.”  ‘Daniel’ smiled as slipped the pin in his pocket.  “Don’t worry, Samberly.  I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Los Angeles, California.  Metropolitan State Hospital 

Yank reached the door to the boiler room.  He grabbed the handle and was immediately met with an electric shock.   He grunted in pain but didn’t let go.  “My, my.  Aren’t you a tough one,” Arcade’s voice echoed.  “Seriously, I’d love to play some more with you.  But Mr. Manfredi was very clear he wanted everyone in here dead.  So if you can just keep holding onto that electrified door until you turn into a well done steak that would just peachy.”  Yank roared as he punched a hole through the door, sparks flying all over him.  You can’t take much more of this, Bruce!  You’re strong but you’re not invincible!  With a final heave, Yank ripped the door off it’s hinges and tossed it aside.  Three buzzsaw blades flew out of the darkness of the boiler room.  Yank ducked the first, but the other two clipped his shoulder.  He plunged down the steps into the boiler room.  Amongst all the pipes and machinery was a metallic cage containing screens, knobs, and levers.  Seated inside, was a man with flowing red hair in white suit. 

“Well, whaddayaknow?” Arcade grinned.  “You made it!  But still got to catch me to win the game.” 

“THIS ISN’T A DAMN GAME!” Yank screamed.  He charged at the cage and took hold, only to be hit by another electric current.  He howled in agony as Arcade looked at him with glee.  “Hot time in the old town tonight, huh?”  He flipped a switch and current stopped, and Fighting Yank dropped to the stone floor, smoke rising from his uniform.  Arcade shook his head as Yank breathed shallowly.  “Lot a guts, but no brains.  And no fashion sense, with that outfit.  How about I send your spirit all the way back to ’76?” 

Arcade reached for the switch, when suddenly the lights in the boiler room went out.  Arcade flipped the switch, but nothing happened.  He flipped it on and off, then finally smacked one of the monitors in frustration.  “SSR party poopers!” he whined.  “They’ve cut the power!  All my toys are busted!”  He sat in his chair pouting, then shrugged and grinned.  “Oh well.  Guess that’s my cue to skidoo!  At least I still beat you!  Arcade always wins!  Seeya!”  Yank tried to rise to his knees, but Arcade had already lifted up a hatch in the floor of his cage and closed it behind him. 

SSR agents ran into the boiler room with guns drawn.  “Freeze!  SSR!  Hold it right there!” Ryan shouted at Yank.  Yank still rose to his feet, muttering incoherently.  “He got away.  We’ve got to stop him.  We have our orders.  Complete the mission.” 

“Get down on your knees with your hands above your head!  Now!”  Yank shook his head in pain.  He couldn’t see the agents.  In his mind he saw flames, and bloody faces.  He heard people screaming and shouting orders in… German?  Yes, it was German.  And one of the faces; the face of a woman with auburn hair, smiling down at him.  She was in a red costume and a cape, and she was offering him her hand.  “Well, Bruce, you aren’t getting better at flying, but at least you are getting better at crashing.”  Yank’s face brightened.  Madeline was always the better flyer.  But who was Madeline?  How did he know who Madeline was?  Why did he feel compelled to…

Bruce!  You must focus!  Remember the mission!   “Get down on the ground or we will open fire!” Ryan yelled.  Yank finally looked up with a focus in his eyes.  He crouched down on the floor and braced himself.  “Stand down!” Ryan shouted.  One of the SSR agents opened fire, and the bullets ricocheted off of Yank.  He propelled himself into the air, crashing through the ceiling of the boiler room, through the floor of the hospital and out through the roof.  Fighting Yank soared higher and higher into the open air, then flew at rapid speed to the East.  Where are you going, Bruce?  Fighting Yank’s eyes were determined as soared through the sky.  “Madeline.  I need to find Madeline.  She’ll help me.  I can’t do the mission without her.  Madeline will make it make sense.  She always does.” 

August 3rd.  Collinsville, IL.  The home of Mr. and Mrs. Bob Frank. 

Madeline Joyce-Frank hung suspended in the air.  She felt the warm breeze on her skin and heard the squawking of birds below her feet.  She closed her eyes allowed herself to simply float among the clouds, a look of utter contentment on her face. 

Then she felt a warm feeling on her forehead, causing her to open her eyes.  She was lying on the couch in her living room, an open fashion magazine across her chest.  And bending over her was the familiar smiling face of her husband, Bob Frank.  “Wakey, wakey, sweetheart.  Rise and shine.  It isn’t your birthday everyday.”  Bob leaned over to give her another kiss on her cheek.  Madeline laughed and playfully shoved him.  “Bob!  You fink!  I was having a perfect dream until you came along.” 

“What do you need to dream about?  It’s your birthday!  I’ve got the perfect day set up for you.  Tonight, I’ll treat you to dinner.  And before that, I’ve got us two tickets to the circus!”  Madeline gave a sigh and leaned back on the couch.  “A circus?  Bob, I’m not twelve anymore.”  Bob grinned cheekily.  “Alright, how old are you?”  Madeline grabbed a cushion and flung it at Bob, trying to still sound mad at him and not laugh.  “Oh, you are terrible!”  Bob picked up the cushion and tossed it back.  “How many terrible men you know would take their wife to the circus?  So what’ll be?  Do you want to go to the circus and have some fun?  Or sit around here all day and risk me running off with a trapeze artist or a bareback rider?” 

Madeline grinned as she rose from the couch.  “Or the bearded lady?  Alright, fine, let’s go.”  Bob gave her a big hug and headed for the kitchen.  “Great!  I’ll start us off with some breakfast!  Oh!  By the way, there’s a package on the table for you.  Someone left it at the door this morning.  Another present for the birthday girl.”  Madeline walked into the kitchen and passed the table, taking a moment to look at the large white gift box, wrapped in red, white, and blue ribbons. 

Stay Tuned for Episode 5: The Long and the Short and the Tall! 

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