New York City. The Docks.

He sat in the black leather chair, staring straight ahead at the massive bay door. He didn't blink. He didn't move. He simply sat there, scowling, arms folded across his chest.

The wind blew through the cracked panes of glass, sweeping in and ruffling his scraggly white hair. He didn't even notice his hair whipping around.

Feral, the youngest member of the M.L.F., sat a good distance away from the team's leader, Wildside. The television was on and blaring in front of her, it's long orange extension cord running to the nearest plug. Loose, baggy clothing hung on her fuzzy orange body. It felt good, she thought, to get out of the skin-tight uniform and relax a little. Relax, and watch a little Jerry Springer... the people on that show led an even more pathetic life than she did.

Without warning, the team's other member, Phantazia, appeared in the center of the room. She crossed to where Wildside was sitting and waited for him to acknowledge her presence.

"Wildside," she said after a few moments of silence.

The white-haired mutant didn't reply.

Phantazia took off her mask and leaned in close. "Wildside," she said again. An impatient look crossed her face as she awaited his reply.

Nothing.

"WILDSIDE!" Phantazia shouted, right into the mutant's ear.

Suddenly, Wildside leaped out of the chair and shoved Phantazia to the ground, landing on top of her and pinning her down.

"WHAT?!?" he screamed, his fangs bared. A thin ribbon of spittle dripped down and soaked into Phantazia's purple cape.

"S... Strobe and Spoor are on th... the Helicarrier," Phantazia sputtered, her eyes wide. A rare prayer rushed through her head as she watched Wildside stand up and brush himself off.

"Feral," Wildside barked. "Get up and get dressed... we're going out."

The orange-furred mutant looked away from the television for a brief instant to regard her leader. The studio audience continued to bark Jerry's name on the TV. "Aw, c'mon boss! This is the first good television show I've seen since..."

"NOW!"

Feral scowled and stood up, switched off the TV, then made her way back to the makeshift bedroom she lived in to change, once more, into her costume.

Police surrounded the bank in midtown Manhattan, awaiting the arrival of the S.W.A.T. team. They stood behind their cars, guns held at the ready, sweat beading on some of their brows.

(Special Weapons And Tactics - Eric)

One officer walked over to a man dressed in a long brown coat, holding a bullhorn in one hand. The gruff detective glanced over at the officer for a moment, then back at the bank's wide glass doors.

"What's going on here?" the man in the coat asked, addressing the officer standing next to him.

"Hostage situation, sir," the officer replied, handing the bullhorn over. "From what we can ascertain, a man just suddenly appeared in the bank, demanded money, and took some of the customers into the vault when the first officers arrived on the scene."

The man in the coat glanced unbelievingly at the officer, then looked back at the bank's wide glass doorway.

"He just... appeared?" He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin toothpick, placed in his mouth, and began to chew on it.

Nodding, the officer said: "Yep. One minute he wasn't there... the next minute he was. Like magic..."

"Magic," the other man repeated, mulling over the word. "Right..."

The trio of mutants slid through the shadows of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier, trying their best not to be seen. It wasn't hard for Feral... she was used to slinking through darkness. Growing up in a sewer allowed for a certain type of stealth training.

(Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate - Eric)

They came upon a double sliding door and stopped at the wave of Wildside's hand. A scent caught Feral's nose as she stood there. Almost sweet, yet acrid at the same time. Cigar smoke? A thought skipped through her mind... Wildside had almost the same heightened senses she did. Couldn't he smell it?

Wildside slowly brought his head up and peered through the lone, small window in the door, then quickly ducked back down. "Four guards by the cells, gals. No prob. All we gotta do is 'port in, sur..."

"Surprise." a gruff voice barked from the shadows. Suddenly, the corridor was bathed in bright lights, momentarily stunning the three mutants. A man stood in the hall, surrounded by a group of well-armed guards, a lit cigar hanging from his lips.

"Fury..."

Nick Fury, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., smirked from behind the stogie. "Hello, Wildside. Long time no see. Did you really think we would just let you waltz in here and take Strobe and Spoor?"

Wildside grinned maliciously. "Wellll..."

"Funny... verrry funny..." Fury puffed on his cigar one more time, then tossed it to the ground at Wildside's feet.

He turned to a small uniformed man behind him. "Tell 'em to free up three more cells in there, Barver."

"Well girls," Wildside began. "Looks like the time-table's been moved up a bit. Get in there and get them, NOW!"

Fangs bared, he jumped right into the middle of the group of soldiers who were desperately trying to hit him without shooting their comrades. Behind the battle, Phantazia and Feral disappeared.

Fury and the other soldier, Barver, stepped back a few paces and watched as Wildside tore through the well-trained S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers like they were wheat before a scythe. The mutant stopped after the last one, stood tall, and glared at the Director.

The double doors slid open and a lone soldier flew through the air, slammed into the wall, and crumpled to the floor. Phantazia and Feral emerged from the cell block, followed closely by Spoor and Strobe, the two newest members of the M.L.F. Wildside grinned.

"We win, Fury," he growled. He turned toward Phantazia, who was waiting patiently. "Get us out of here."

With those words and a brief flash of light, the group of mutants were gone.

Barver crept up to stand next to Fury, staring down at the carnage before him. Broken and bloody bodies lay everywhere, guns were strewn about. But there were no cries of pain.

"Relax Barver, they're just LMDs," Fury said calmly, looking down at the 'soldiers'. "How about you give me some good news?"

"Uh, yes sir," Barver replied, looking down at the gadget he had in his hand. A duo of small red dots blipped on the screen, moving away from a large mass that could only have been the Helicarrier. "The tracking devices we implanted in Spoor and Strobe are working perfectly. We should know the location of the M.L.F.'s base soon."

Fury nodded, pulled another cigar out of a pouch on his uniform, and lit it up. Taking a puff, Fury watched the dots on the device and muttered a solitary word, "Good."

The S.W.A.T. team hastily entered the bank and gathered around the vault, glancing toward their captain for the silent signals that guided them. One officer came forward, a small square of plastique in his hand, and gently placed it on the heavy door. An instant later, the lock disintigrated with a loud bang, and the money vault was accessible once again.

The captain and another S.W.A.T. officer quickly pulled the door open while the other team members poked their guns and bodies into the crowded vault. A small group of a dozen or so bank patrons sat in the vault, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

"Get 'em out of there!" the captain barked, looking closely at all of the people as they exited the vault. Not one of them matched the description given to them by the bank official.

Pulling one woman aside, the captain asked, "Ma'am, what happened here? Where's the man that took you all hostage?"

Taking a deep breath, the woman replied. "Well, one minute he was looting the safe deposit boxes... the next he was gone!"

"How do you mean, ma'am?"

"I mean... it's like he just," she paused to take another deep breath, then continued. "It's like he just vanished. Right in front of our eyes, he disappeared!"

The captain nodded, then sent the woman off to get checked by the waiting medical technicians. He walked into the bank, mulling over the woman's words. At least two dozen safe deposit boxes had been looted or robbed. "Vanished... right. What a mess..."

In M.L.F. #2: S.H.I.E.L.D. attacks with a cadre of soldiers and their newest, nigh-unstoppable cyborg soldier, code-named CC! Plus, a couple of guest-stars chance upon the mysterious bank robber! Who is he, and how does he keep getting away with it?