Agent Carter S03E07 Match 17694 Miss America vs. Fighting Yank

[broadwaybeyonder]

Episode 7: Mighty, Mighty Man

August 3^rd, 1946.  Los Angeles, California.  Waverly Memorial Hospital

“The movie world was saddened today following reports of the death of Whitney Frost.”  Jack Thompson sat in bed looking at magazine and listening to the news over the radio.  “Whitney Frost, the starlet who had captured the hearts of millions,” the announcer went on.  “Had recently suffered a nervous breakdown, requiring her to be institutionalized at Metropolitan State Hospital.  Though authorities have been tight lipped about the details, they have confirmed that the hospital had been the site of an attack that left several doctors, nurses, and patients injured and dead.  At this moment, the only confirmed name is Whitney Frost.” 

“Good,” said Jack, turning a page in his magazine.  “One less psycho in the world.” There was a knock outside of the door, but Jack continued flipping through the magazine as he answered.  “Come in!”  Samberly peeked his head inside and walked in, carrying a small, white box.  “Evening, chief,” he said in an enforced cheerful tone.  Jack didn’t look up from the magazine.  “What do you want, Samberly?”  The scientist cleared his throat.  “Oh, nothing, chief.  I just came to give you this box of fudge, that I… well, actually it was Rose who…” 

“Just set it on the table.  I’ll be sure it eat it later.”  Jack looked up to see Samberly, shuffling nervously.  “Is that all?”  Samberly coughed again.  “Well, I mean, chief.  The thing is there might be a small problem.  I mean, it could be a huge problem, but…” 

“Samberly!” Jack snapped.  Samberly gulped as Jack glared at him impatiently.   If you have something to say, say it!”  Samberly took a deep breath before continuing.  “Well, chief, there was a call at the office for you.  It was from Chief Sousa.  From London.”  Jack tossed the magazine on the side table.  “What did he say?  Anything about Nick Driscoll?” 

“I’m sorry, chief.  He did mention a Driscoll, but he said that he had been killed.”  Jack let his head fall back against the wall.  “Damn.  All this over a redacted file.” 

“But, chief, that’s not the problem.”  Jack looked annoyed at Samberly.  Samberly instantly showed shock as he tried to back track.  “I mean, uh, it is a problem about your friend dying and all, but… The problem is that I’m not sure how he could have done it.” 

“Done what?  Died?” 

“No.  Called.” 

“Called who?” 

“Me.” 

Jack took a deep breath then motioned to Samberly.  “Samberly?  Come a little closer.”  Samberly took a step next to Jack’s bed.  Jack grabbed a hold of Samberly’s tie and pulled him across the bed.  “Now, Samberly,” Jack said dangerously.  “Tell me what the hell you’re talking about!”  Samberly flailed helplessly for a moment before answering.  “Chief!  Chief Sousa.  He couldn’t have called from London.  Because he was at the talent agency yesterday!”  Jack loosened his grip on Samberly’s tie.  “It was during the attack at the hospital,” Samberly gasped.  “He came in and said he found a lead on a… thing that I had been investigating for him.  And he asked me to give him the… thing, so I did.” 

Jack’s expression dropped.  “A pin?  And Arena Club pin?”  Samberly was taken aback.  He looked at Jack in shock.  “Yes.  How did you know?”  Jack pointed to the door.  “Get to the office now!  I want everything we have on Whitney Frost!  That includes anything involving Joseph Manfredi!  I’ve been sitting in this bed for too long.  Time to get to work!  Move it!”  Samberly quickly scurried to the door, pausing to look at Jack.  “Chief?  Did I do something wrong?”  Jack looked balefully at Samberly.  “Well, Samberly, I’m pretty sure you haven’t done anything right.” 

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

Madeline stood before the stranger who held her husband up by the throat.  “Please,” she begged.  “Let him go!” 

“NO!” the man yelled.  “Not until we talked.”  His voice suddenly softened.  “We could always talk, remember?  They let us practice flying together.  The two of us, alone above the clouds.” 

“Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“Maddie, just get out of here!” Bob wheezed.  “He’s crazy!” 

“SHUT UP!” the man snapped.  “You say another word and I’ll snap your neck right here!” 

“No!  Please!” Madeline pleaded. 

The man looked back to Madeline.  “We were meant to be together.  Miss America and Fighting Yank.  We fought together!  We killed together!” 

“I’ve never killed anyone!” 

“LIAR!” Fighting Yank roared.  Miss America has obviously been compromised.  Proceed to Doctor Benton for check up.  “Stop talking!” 

“Nobody said anything,” said Madeline, her breathing becoming more shaky.  “Please, what do you want from us?” 

Fighting Yank closed his eyes, flinching in pain.  “You have to remember.  You have to make sense of it all.  I keep seeing them.  Hearing them.  The screams.  The blood.  So much blood.”  He opened his eyes and glared accusingly at Madeline.  “And you were there.  You left me behind!  You let them lock me away!  How could you do that to me, Madeline?” 

Madeline started sobbing in fear.  “Look, I don’t know you.  I’ve never met you.  Please let my husband go!  We won’t tell anyone about this!  Just go!” 

Fighting Yank held her gaze as Bob’s hand fumbled around the frying pan on the stove.  “Not without you, Madeline.  You’ll make it all make sense.  And then we’ll be together.  Just like we were supposed to.”  Bob finally took hold of the frying pan and swung it at Fighting Yank’s head.  The clang of metal against skull reverberated around the kitchen.  Out of surprise rather than pain, Fighting Yank dropped Bob to the floor.  He looked up at the terrified Madeline.  “Maddie!  Run!”  Fighting Yank grabbed him by the leg and hurled Bob across the kitchen.  He crashed into the refrigerator door, and within seconds Fighting Yank was over him with fist raised.  “She doesn’t belong to you!” he screamed.  “You can’t protect her!  I will!” 

The fist rushed toward Bob, who closed his eyes tight.  But no impact came.  Bob opened his eyes to see Madeline grabbing a hold of Fighting Yank’s arm, preventing the blow from landing.  “That’s.  Enough!” Madeline shouted.  She threw Fighting Yank to the floor behind her, shattering the tiled floor.  Bob looked in shock at his wife.  “Maddie?  How did you…” 

“No time for that, Bob!  You have to go!”  Fighting Yank rose to his feet, staring disbelieving at Madeline.  “Why did you do that?  After all we’ve been through?!”  Miss America has been compromised.  You must complete the mission.  ‘Over there!  Over there!’  Fighting Yank gripped his head and groaned in pain.  “There’s no way I’m leaving without you!” Bob yelled as he pulled himself up with the refrigerator handle.  “Honey, I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that between the two of us I’m the only one who stands a chance with him!  Now go!” 

Fighting Yank’s head suddenly jerked up as he fixed his maddened eyes at Madeline.  “TRAITOR!!”  He flew toward Madeline crashed through the kitchen wall into the living room.  “Maddie!” Bob yelled, but Madeline was already on her feet.  She kicked off her heels and let herself rise off the floor.  “You’ve invaded my home, you hurt my husband,” she said glaring down on Fighting Yank.  “I might not know who you are, but I know you’ve just made your last mistake!” 

OK:

Can Miss America subdue the maddened Fighting Yank? 

Will Fighting Yank have Miss America and Bob at his mercy? 

Stay Tuned and Find Out! 

Game On! 

[Callisto]

Learn More About
Miss America
Read more about Miss America at Wikipedia
Official Site: Marvel Comics Links: Wikipedia Toonopedia Marvel Database

Fighting Yank
Read more about Fighting Yank at Wikipedia
Official Site: Public Domain Links: Wikipedia Toonopedia Comicvine

[broadwaybeyonder]

Fallout 3 Soundtrack - Mighty Mighty Man - YouTube

 

[Callisto]

Match Final Results

No User Ratings on this match received!

MATCH SCORE
Miss America: 1
Fighting Yank: 0

[broadwaybeyonder]

AND NOW (finally) THE CONCLUSION. 

Bob ran for the door as his wife and the lunatic with the cape crashed through the walls of his house.  He looked back in amazement as Madeline took blow after blow, only to stay upright and deliver a shot herself.  He swung the door open, and stopped short.  There was a short, bald man in a suit and tie standing at the doorway.  “Mister, you better run!” Bob yelled as he grabbed the man’s arm and ran for the car.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Frank,” the man said calmly.  “Everything is well in hand.”  Bob stared at the unconcerned man, trying to jog his memory.  “Wait.  Don’t I know you?  You’ve been by my house.  You wanted to talk to Maddie…” 

“There, there, Mr. Frank,” Dr. Fenhoff said, adjusting his ring as Bob stared helplessly.  “Everything will be alright.  Just relax for me, would you?  And focus.” 

Fighting Yank lifted the radio and threw it Madeline.  She threw a punch that shattered it into the fragments before flying straight into Fighting Yank.  An uppercut sent her attacker colliding into the ceiling headfirst.  He fell into another punch that sent him crashing into the fireplace.  Madeline flew over to him in an instant, and began raining down punches to his head.  She screamed in rage as she continued the assault, blood starting to fly from Fighting Yank’s mouth. 

She lifted him up by his sweater and pulled her arm back to land a final blow.  But then she froze.  For a moment, Madeline’s eyes were opened to what she had been doing.  Her eyes were wide in terror as she looked at the Fighting Yank, his face battered and bloodied. 

Bruce.  That was his name.  Bruce. 

She slowly let the unconscious Fighting Yank ease down to the floor.  She knelt next to him, touching his face and seeing the blood on her hands.  “Bruce,” she said started to sob.  “What happened to you?” 

“Please, remain where you are, Mrs. Frank.”  Madeline spun around to see Dr. Fenhoff standing in their living room, accompanied by two gunmen and Bob.  Madeline could see the glazed look in his eyes, the same way they looked at the circus.  She leapt to her feet and charged at the intruders. 

“Whites of their eyes,” Dr. Fenhoff intoned.  Instantly, Madeline stopped in mid-swing.  She stood at attention and looked forward unblinking.  Fenhoff stepped forward, examining her face and nodded to his henchmen.  “Excellent.  Our friend was correct.  The code phrases still work, even if the mental blocks have degraded.  Collect Mr. Carter and bring him to the car.  We have a long drive ahead of us.”  The henchmen walked past Madeline and picked up Fighting Yank.  “What about this guy, doc?” one of them asked, nodding toward Bob.  Fenhoff smiled at him and adjusted his ring.  “Oh, I’m sure Mr. Frank would like to go on a trip with his wife.  You would like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Frank?”  Bob’s face remained expressionless as he replied.  “Yes.  I would.” 

August 3^rd, 1946.  Manhattan, New York City.  The mansion of Silvio Manfredi. 

“We should just kill them!”  Bruno Karnelli pounded his fist on the table to emphasize his argument.  “Yeah? And how you figure on doing that, Bruno?” Angelo Libris snorted.  “You can barely keep your own house in order.  How you expect to kill guys you can’t find?” 

“I don’t have take that from you, you piece of…!” 

“Enough!”  Silvio Manfredi raised his voice above the argument.  The other crimelords fell silent.  Silvio cleared his throat before continuing.  “The matter of these masked vigilantes is of great concern to us all.  Several members of the Manfredi family have been lost in attacks by these men.” 

“And just what are you goin’ do about it, Silvermane?” asked Frank Costa.  “You’re the head of the table.  It’s your job to stop punks like this!”  Karnelli nodded and glared at Manfredi.  “Maybe it’s time we get new leadership!”  Joseph reached for his pistol.  “Why don’t you just try it?” 

“Please, gentlemen,” Count Nefaria said smoothly.  “Let him speak.”  Silvio Manfredi nodded in appreciation.  “Thank you, Nefaria.  A great deal of the activity seems to have taken place in the area of Hell’s Kitchen.  With the help of my new associate Miss Underwood, my Enforcers will find and eliminate all of these meddlers.”  Libris stifled a laugh, and Silvio stared at him imposingly.  “Something amusing, Angelo?” 

“Well from what I hear, your three stooges already tried it with one of these freaks and got their hats handed to ‘em.  What makes you think some broad is going to make it any different?”  Silvio was about to reply when Dottie crossed from behind his chair over to Libris.  She smiled down sweetly on the crimelord.  “Well, gee, Mr. Libris.  I wouldn’t want you to think I wouldn’t be good for this job.”  Libris looked around the table and chuckled as he looked up at Dottie.  “Listen, doll, if you want something to do for me than I can ARRRRRGH!” 

Dottie had quickly drawn a knife from a holster on her leg and jammed it into Libris’ hand, pinning him to the table.  His bodyguard moved towards her but a kick from Dottie sent him slamming into the wall.  Dottie leaned in close to Libris as he face contorted in pain.  “Is that good enough for you, Mr. Libris?” she hissed.  Libris nodded furiously, nothing coming out of his mouth but groans of agony. 

“That’s enough, Miss Underwood,” Silvio Manfredi said.  “Release him.”  Dottie shrugged and yanked the knife out of Libris’ hand.  He clutched it in pain as his bodyguard rushed to wrap it up and stop the bleeding.  “An impressive display, Silvio,” said Nefaria.  “But if I may?”  Manfredi motioned to Nefaria, who rose from his seat to circle the table. 

“As all of you are aware, I myself have been the victim of one of these attacks.  We are not dealing with someone we can simply kill or bribe.  These individuals are stronger, faster.  Able to defeat any opposition.  Which means that if we are to ensure their defeat, we must have power of our own.” 

Joseph Manfredi looked unimpressed at Nefaria.  “And just who was you planning to do that?  Captain America?”  The crimelords chuckled, as well as Nefaria.  “Not quite, Joseph.  But I did call on the services of a man who has made it his life’s work to unlock the potential of humanity.  Doctor Jonas Harrow.” 

The amusement of the Maggia leaders instantly turned to sounds of protest. 

“Harrow?!  That nut?!” 

“He’s out of his mind!” 

“He did a surgery on one of my boys and turned him into some kinda monster!” 

Silvio rose from his seat, held up by Joseph.  “Quiet all of you!  Luchino, I appreciate your offer of help, but I must agree with the rest of the Maggia.  Do you think it is wise for us to go to him for help?” 

“If you will permit me, old friend,” Nefaria said.  “Then I can demonstrate the fruits of Doctor Harrow’s labor, and how they can assist us with our current problem.”  He motioned to the door and his bodyguard opened it.  Two men entered the meeting room.  One was dressed in brown pants and leather vest and the other was in a green pinstripe suit.  But the oddest thing about the pair was the top of the man in green’s head was completely flat. 

Costa leapt to his feet and pointed.  “What are you tryin’ to pull, Count?!  Those are my boys!  They went missing weeks ago!  What has that quack done to ‘em?!” 

“Calm yourself, Frank.  Doctor Harrow has merely improved them.  May I present to you Hammerhead and Kangaroo.  And if your curious about their names, then don’t worry.  A demonstration can be arranged.”  Nefaria nodded to his bodyguard, who charged toward the man in the leather vest.  Kangaroo leapt over his assailant, letting him sprawl on the floor.  He then landed with a hard stomp on his back.  Kangaroo then leapt the length of the table to the other side of the room.  The crimelords murmured their amazement, as Hammerhead walked to the table.  He reared his head back, and slammed it down hard on the table.  The headbutt smashed through the table and cracked it down it’s center, and Hammerhead looked up at the Maggia leaders completely unharmed.  He grinned as he knocked on his flat head, a metallic sound ringing out.  “Metal skull, metal bones.  Let me at that stick throwing freak, and jam that boomer-whatever down his throat!” 

Nefaria looked to Silvio Manfredi with a smile.  “Do I have your interest, Silvio?”  Joseph touched his father’s shoulder.  “I don’t know, pop.  We don’t need freaks to catch freaks!”  Silvio shrugged Joseph’s hand off his shoulder.  “Don’t be too hasty, Joseph.  Nefaria is correct.  If we are to make certain that these meddlers are dealt with, we must use all means at our disposal.  All those in favor?”  The other crimelords raised their hands in agreement.  “Very well,” Manfredi said to Nefaria.  “Your… projects will assist Miss Underwood.  She will give the orders and her orders come directly from me.  And these two men better be worth it, Nefaria.”  Nefaria gave an elegant bow.  “I assure you, Silvio.  They will follow their orders to the letter.” 

Next Time: Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive!