The lightning bolt went for Spider-Man first. Even before it had left Electro’s hand, the wall-crawler was leaping for another pew. Boomerang, out of the line of the fire, still dove to the side, diving between two rows to escape the blast.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering, Spider-Man. In the long run, it doesn’t matter, even if you somehow manager to defeat me and save Herman!” Electro’s body crackled as he charged up, leaping onto the first row of pews. “This world’s coming to an end, and nobody’s gonna be able to stop it!”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t live with myself if the world ended and you were running around like Mad Max, Max!” Spider-Man threw himself toward Electro. Just before Electro fired a blast at him, a line of webbing zipped into the air, and the wallcrawler swung himself above the bolt, flying over the attack before slamming into Electro with both feet. “Yow! Someone’s all worked up,” Spider-Man said as he flipped away from his foe. “That kick gave me quite a kick! Boomerang, go check on Herman!”

On the far end of the pew, Fred emerged. He ran at a low crouch, one wary eye on where Electro had pulled himself to his feet. As he threw a punch at Spider-Man that the hero easily dodged, Boomerang reached the altar. Even as he bobbed and weaved his way towards me, he still had that grin on his face. “Hey, Herman,” Fred quipped as he reached me and threw my arm over one of his shoulders. “Never thought I’d see you and the Punisher hanging around.”

“You think up that joke on your own,” I wheezed out. “Just get me the hell off this altar...”

A loud bang echoed throughout the chamber, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spider-Man go flying away. And Electro’s voice boomed. “Oh, come on, Fred, you’re not going to...”

Fred’s free hand whipped out. A razorang sliced through the air towards Max, but Electro easily swung to the side, letting it harmlessly clatter of the stone wall behind him. Almost immediately, a second boomerang flew at Electro, but that one was easily dodged as well, sending a small spray of sparks as it bounced off one of the stone pillars. “Fred, why...”

The third one, Electro just raised his hand and blasted it out of mid-air. He was packing a hell of a charge now, upping his reflexes. “Seriously, Fred. I’m a walking dynamo and you’re using Australian toys to fight me.”

“Fight you? Mate, there is no way I’m that stupid. I’m just distracting you so the Virgin Mary can hit you upside the head.”

One of Electro’s eyebrows went up at the statement. “Really. You’re invoking the Vir...”

That was all he got out before a small stone statue slammed into the back of his head. Electro dropped to his knees as the statue clunked to the ground, the serene carving of the Virgin Mary’s face facing me as Boomerang hauled me off the altar.

“Mother Mary, forgive us sinners for using you for violence,” Spider-Man said as he climbed over the pews. “But I’m thinking, right now up in Heaven, she’s smiling and throwing me the horns at knocking...”

“Cretin!” A bolt of lightning slammed into Spider-Man’s chest, sending him sprawling through the air. He crashed into a pew, splintering the back support as Electro climbed to his feet. “Do you really think you’re dealing with the same old Maxwell Dillon. He’s dead, and as you can see, obviously not buried! First, let me deal with the wall-crawler, and then, I’ll turn my attentions to Herman and that annoying Boomerang...”

“Aw, crap,” Fred said as he tried to leading my hobbling form towards the safety of a side vestibule. “He’s talking to himself. Who the hell went and jump started Electro back from the dead?”

“You won’t believe me...”

“At this point, mate, I’ll believe anything. Rescue first, story second though.” Electro’s attention, by the sound, fury, and accompanying light show, was directed towards Spider-Man. Flashes and booms filled the air as we made it to the alcove that ran along the back of the church. “Here, Herman,” Fred as he carefully leaned me against the wall. “Can you stand?”

“Barely,” I said as I wedged my foot against the nearby support. “Give me a second...my nervous system feels like it’s rebooting.”

“Well, boot the damn thing in safe mode. We’re getting the hell out of...bloody hell Jesus!” A stray bolt of lightning scorched the wall a few openings down from where we stood, and we could both hear Electro scream in frustration. “...we’re getting the hell out of here, as soon as you can walk. I can sneak us out, webhead’s being stupid enough to provide the distraction.”

“No...no. My vibro-smashers,” I said, shaking my head. “They’re around here somewhere...we have to find them.”

“Your...ok, Herman, the guy who goes back into the house for his gun, or his cell phone, or his puppy? He always croaks, mate! Come on, we can get your backup pair back at the warehouse...”

My thoughts were coming back into focus. “I can’t...my spare pair...Chameleon...he’s got them...”

“Ah, damn it, yeah. Yeah, I forgot. Remind me to tell you about that. Bastard tried to fire a blast, broke his arm by slamming it into a fire main. So, where the hell are they?”

“Wow. You’re even more of a dim bulb now that you’re dead, Electro!”

“Aaargh! Stand still, Spider-Man!” A series of crackling sounds filled the air, followed by a high pitched scream of pain. “Aha! Who’s laughing now, wall-crawler!”

“I don’t know...I woke up on the altar without them.”

“Damn...you sure you can’t live without them?” Even after being used as a closed circuit for the better part of who-the-hell-knows-how-long, I managed to muster up enough annoyance to shoot a glare in Boomerang’s direction. He put up his hands, cursing under his breath. “Can’t just make a new pair out of chicken wire and RC car parts...alright, fine. I’ll look over there, you look over here.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, waving a hand. The second I moved from this wall, I was going to slump to the ground. But if Fred found my weapons, I’ll endure lying on the ground in a heap for a few embarrassing moments. Boomerang peeked out from behind the support beam. The flashes were coming from the front of the church, well away from us, but my friend still crouch-ran his way towards the opposite side.

My arms were responding now. I used them to support myself, one hand on the wall as a guide. Legs were still wobbly, but as long as I didn’t get distracted and watched my footing, I could move. The blood slowly circulated through my body again as I started to search my side of the church. I swear, when all was said and done, my ass was taking a vacation.

A loud whistle split the air. I had barely begun my search when Fred got my attention. When I looked in his direction, my friend was already double-timing it back towards me, a gauntlet in each hand. “Damn,” he told me as he came to a halt under the cover of the arches, “they’re going at it tooth and nail down there.”

He offered the vibro-smashers to me. I took one of them and immediately initialized it. Whoever had removed them from my hands had also turned them off. Probably Electro...but he hadn’t pulled the charge out. “Alright,” I said in small triumph as the power meter was comfortably in the green. I slid my vibro-smasher on, locking it into place. The hum of the power core was, to abuse a metaphor, music to my muscles. As Boomerang silently urged me on, the process repeated with the second one, also in the green and also working as intended.

“That’s right, Spider-Man! You have nowhere to run! Years of putting me to shame are coming to an end tonight! You’re lucky,” Electro’s voice sizzled through the air. “My boss didn’t say a damn word about you. So I can kill you quickly and not worry about his wrath! Just hold still, and die!”

“Man, they’re tooth and nail out there,” Boomerang said as I flexed my fingers. I still felt about a second behind the rest of the world, but I had my weapons back. And, from banging my forearm lightly against one of the stone pillars, the contact plates in my suit still were functional. “Herman, is there a back door out of this place? Ain’t ever been in here, but I’ll tell you this right now, there’s no way we’re going out the way we came in.”

I never considered the other option. By this point in that story, that’s all I need to say.

“We’re walking out the front door, Fred. After we kick Electro’s ass.”

Silence. Fred just stared at me, slackjawed, as I leaned out from behind the pillar. Electro, from what I saw, had Spider-Man boxed in at the far end of the church. The wall-crawler spun lines of webbing through the air, but each one was stopped in mid-air by a bolt of lightning. Spider-Man always had damn fast reflexes, quicker than even Speed Demon. But Electro...since he was dead, maybe his body could hold even more power and not have to worry about fatal burn out. His yellow glow was unearthly, flickering like the fire from a burning nuclear power plant. He had his fists out, holding lightning between his fingers. Spider-Man would flinch one way, and Electro would be there, cutting him off at the pass. “Nowhere to run, little spider,” he taunted the hero. A bolt of lightning at his feet caused Spider-Man to leap into the air, but a bolt right above his head drove him right back down to the ground.

“Wow, who would have thought it’d take death to finally make Electro a match for me?” Even cornered like a rat, he still kept us the bravado I used to hate about Spider-Man. “I think your badassness is leaking out of your chest there though, Max...”

“Herman,” Fred said, urging me silently, “come on. Let’s just find the back door and blow this popstand. Let Max take care of Spider-Man. By the time he gets back to us, we can be across the river in Jersey!”

“Can’t do that, Fred. We’re gonna need Spider-Man. And if we don’t stop Electro now,” I told him, “then we’re gonna run into him again. We got numbers on our side this time.”

“Jesus Christ, Herman! Come on, the hero stuff...look what it’s gotten you! You tortured and Aleksei dead! There comes a time, Herman, where you just go ‘screw this’ and walk away, and Herman, these boots were made for walkin’.”

My fists clenched inside my gauntlets. “There ain’t gonna be a world to walk away to, Fred. The Grim Reaper’s behind all of this, Fred. Eric Williams has snapped, and he’s working for a god. Fred, I am not making any of this up. I saw this god. I can’t even say his NAME, that’s how close I came to crapping my uniform. This isn’t going to be ‘cure the infection and go back to normal,’ Fred.” I took a deep breath, trying to find that steel for what was about to go down. “This is the end of the world. Galactus eating the Earth levels of apocalypse. And no, I’m not insane, although staring in the eyes of a god would probably shove me around the damn bend anyway!”

The sound of lightning and cries of anguish filled the silence between Fred and I. He was just staring at me, dumbfounded. “...the Grim Reaper? Really? “ Boomerang’s face went a little pale at the final realization. “Bugger’s finally snapped, believes he’s the Fourth Horseman?”

“I don’t think it’s belief, Fred. Look, I know this sounds insane, Fred...”

“Yeah, Herman, it does, and coming from anyone else but you, I’d call it utter bull.” He looked back over his shoulder at where Electro was throwing lightning at the webhead, who had broken free and was now skittering across the front wall of St Patricks. “Christ...alright, alright, fine. You beat Electro one-on-one before, surely three-on-one is going to be a piece of cake. But when this is all done, you better sit down and explain to me why Aleksei’s dead, why the Chameleon is running around looking like you, and why the hell Electro’s walking around with bleeding bullet wounds!”

“Promise. First things first...”

“Right, right. Alright, I got a couple flashrangs in here, maybe we can blind him...”

“No, Fred. I need you to do something else.”

The Australian laughed at my statement. “Of course, of course, Herman. You got the plan, what do you need me to do?”

“Cut down the Punisher.”

The laughter died. Cue the shocked, dumbfounded look again. “What...cut him DOWN?!? Ok, Herman, now I KNOW you’ve lost it. He tried to kill you!”

“Yeah, well, we’ll deal with that later.” I put my hand on Fred’s shoulder, looking him in the ear as thunder boomed through the vestibule. “Fred, we need him. He may be a psychotic vigilante who tried to shoot me a few days ago, but if we’re going to fight the Grim Reaper, we need a guy like him on our side.”

“...madness. Madness. Alright. But,” Fred said, jamming a finger at me, “if he kills me, when I come back to life, I’m going to make damn sure I bite you in the ass before someone offs me.”

“I never knew you cared, Fred. Now go on, get him down.” Mumbling, Fred trotted off, hugging the wall on his way back to where Frank Castle hung bleeding. How the bastard was still alive, I didn’t know. But there’s tough, there’s Ford tough, and it wouldn’t surprise me if there was Punisher tough. Unless the first thing he did was try to kill Fred once he was free, he could do nothing but come in handy. And...I couldn’t leave a man to die to bleed to death.

Not now, anyway.

God, this past week’s been weird. Understatement of the year, but still. New York..the world...had been through crisis after crisis after crisis before. Each and every time, the heroes pulled it back from the brink after getting the crap beat out of them. And each and every time, I had just gone about my merry way. The Hulk smashing up New York City? Hey, time to make an obscene profit selling supplies to accountants! Heroes going at it in the streets? That means no one’s watching the BMW dealership! Nick Fury declaring war on Doctor Doom? Hell, Doom was hiring, and Doom always pays well. Taking advantage of a situation without putting my ass in the way of major harm, that’s me. Or it was me. Because...this time, something had been different. I’ll never be able to put my finger on it, though looking back...this conflict hit at the street level. Every human on the planet, no matter where they were, was in danger. And unlike an alien in the sky, I could have done something about it this time. And I did. And as you’ve read, I got my ass beat pillar to post from the damn get-go. And I didn’t quit. I kept coming back for more even when every nerve in my body and every friend I had told me “you’ve done enough, just stay down.” Spider-Man never stayed down. Ms. Marvel never stayed down. Captain freakin’ America never stayed down.

Rhino never stayed down.

Because Aleksei was a damn hero. I don’t care what anyone else says. This past week, he earned that title. And damn it, so did I.

Herman Schultz. The Shocker. Hero

Wow. This is what self-confidence feels like.

I strode out from under the arches, pulling my mask back on and locking it into place. I knew this stride. I had come close to it time and time before. I thought I had it, but I didn’t. But when I saw someone else with this stride, I knew, in my subconscious, someone was going to get their ass kicked. Well, for once, that someone isn’t going to be me. It’s going to be the undead human dynamo at the other end of the church.

He was staring into the rafters, trying to track Spider-Man. I walked to the edge of the vestibule, my hands at my sides, thumbs on the triggers of my vibro-smashers. I should have just gotten the drop on him. But screw that. I wanted him to know what was going to happen.

“ELECTRO!”

Electro stopped. His neck slowly craned down. The yellow aura of electricity surrounded him, ionizing the air. When he saw me, standing alone at the end of the aisle, his face took on a predatory grin. “Herman. Finally come out to play.”

“Yeah, Max. You and me, round 2.” I raised one of my hands, pointing at the Villain of Voltage. “And this time, I’m going to beat the living dead out of you.”

*****

I charged at him. Sprinting down the aisle, full-tilt, one arm cocked back, ready to knock his ass out with a blast-assisted jab. I could only imagine how cool I looked, running all out through the empty church...

Electro didn’t see it that way though. He simply raised his hand and blasted me in the chest with a bolt of lightning. I stopped dead in my tracks...the upper half of me did, at least. My legs kept going, swinging out from under me. I was perfectly airborne for a moment before slamming onto the carpeted floor back-first.

“Ok,” I thought as I stared up at the rafters, “that didn’t go according to plan.”

“Tsk tsk,” Electro said. “That was supposed to be your big entrance, huh?” Both hands lashed out at me, and I barely managed to roll away from the twin blasts that emanated from the Villain of Voltage, squirming under a pew as his attack scorched the carpeting. Scrambling to my feet in the confined space, I spun around, firing off two level-threes at Electro. Both blasts caught him in the face, staggering him as he put his hands up in defense. I held my thumbs down, watching the power gauge slowly drop as the air exploded around him.

Blindly, Electro whipped a lightning bolt in my direction. Now, I need to clarify something here, because I see the guy in the back, with the Masters from MIT, going “hold on, hold on, you’re dodging LIGHTNING? Which, you know, moves at the speed of light? Mr. Schultz, I find this story highly unlikely and increasingly unplausable.”

First off, unplausable isn’t a word. I ain’t an English major and I know that much. And second, all that power Electro was generating may have lit up a small upstate town, the bastard was telegraphing his moves. A gesture with his hand, a sudden flare up in his electrical field...it was the only thing that let me know when he was going to strike. And it wasn’t like I was casually sidestepping a bolt of lightning. It was more along the lines of dodging out of the way before my conscious mind screamed “HOLYCRAPINCOMINGLIGHTNING!”

It didn’t matter, because the bolt sailed past me. Boldly, I stepped out of the row of pews, still letting off vibration after vibration, keeping them on a narrow band directly at his face. I wanted to open big, to just level five his face right off, but power was a concern. I sacrificed power for accuracy, punching him from a distance. Each step closer meant more power over a tighter area. He was growling, standing in place, trying to ward off my shots, waving his arms in a futile attempt to knock them away. I smiled under my mask as I closed to within ten feet, feet planted in the aisle, firing from point blank range, just pouring the vibrations into him...

Slowly, he stopped fighting back. Even as I kept attacking, he just put his arms down, and straightened up. My shots exploded the air around him, but he put his hands on his hips, and smirked at me. “Herman, Herman, Herman,” Electro taunted me as he shrugged my attacks off.” Really? You’re not even tickling me with those attacks. You can’t bring that AAA battery stuff against me anymore.”

Crap. If...

No, Herman. Don’t doubt yourself.

“Yeah, Electro. You’re right.” My left glove fired first, this one a level four aimed right at his face. Almost casually, Electro seemed to swat the blast away, his hand moving with superhuman reflexes. A second blast came from my vibro-smasher, a ball of exploding, vibrating air. This one, he simply seemed to “catch,” the ionized air around his lightning-clad hand somehow counteracting the attack right in front of his nose. Dandy and fine by me, because that meant he missed the blast from my right gloved. Aimed directly at the metal ceiling fixture over his head.

A taunt was coming, but the poor sucker didn’t even get a chance to get it out, as the chandelier that had been suspended from the ceiling crashed on top of him. That had to be a ton of ornate metal and carved stone slamming down on Electro. He didn’t even notice until the chandelier impacted his skull, sending him down to the floor. The cable came next, followed by a large piece of masonry that had supported the fixture for years crashing down around him. The loud boom felt like God himself was shaking his finger at me for destroying this holy landmark, but He hadn’t struck me down with a bolt of lightning yet. And Dillon had.

As the dust and debris settled around the fallen Electro, I did the appropriate thing. I lowered my hands, and found myself striking a casually heroic pose over the pile of stone and metal. “And the name’s not Herman, Electro. It’s Shocker.”

“Jeez. Looks like you took a level in bad-ass, He...Shocker.”

Spider-Man descended from the ceiling, hanging upside down by a line of webbing. “Nice job taking Electro down. But how do you know...”

Two of my level-four blasts shook the debris. A piece of stone fell off the pile, cracking into several pieces on the floor, as I lowered my fists and turned to Spider-Man, raising a cocky eyebrow under my mask, before realizing I was wearing a mask and he couldn’t see it anyway.

“...he’s not just playing possum. Alright, you took a page out of Ms Marvel’s book there. Well played.”

“Well, I had to do something...and where the hell were you, Spidey? Just hanging out on the ceiling? I could have used a hand.”

He gave an upside-down shrug. “You looked so happy doing that power run from the altar, I just didn’t have the heart to stop you. Besides, you had things under control, and I didn’t want to mess up your vibe. Although...why didn’t you just blast the hell out of him? You were lobbing softballs at him. You’ve cracked me harder than that.”

“Yeah...but I like Electro.”

“...don’t quit your day job, Shocker. Leave the schtick to the professionals and the mercenaries.”

The pile of rubble wasn’t moving as I spoke. “I can level three all day long, but anything higher and I gotta start rationing my shots. I save the big stuff for when I’m outgunned. Remember our little tussle in the subway last year? That was the big stuff.”

“I’ve never seen you run out of juice when we’ve gone at it,” Spider-Man countered.

“Yeah...and how many times have you run out of webbing?”

“Point.”

I turned and looked over my shoulder. “Yo, Fred. How’s it coming?”

Behind us, Fred was floating in mid-air, his rocket boots keeping him airborne. “It’s coming, it’s coming.” One of the Punisher’s arms, I could tell, was undone, because it hung limp over the side of the cross. “He’s barely moving, though. Bastard lost a lot of blood. He’s gonna need a doctor, bloody stat.”

“Boomerang helping the Punisher. Oh my giddy aunt,” Spider-Man mused.

“Yeah, the world turned upside down. You go help Boomerang, I’ll keep an...”

Suddenly, Spider-Man’s arms were around me. I left the ground, shooting for the ceiling, my face at his crotch. Absolutely lovely, but a lot better than being where I had been. The ornate chandelier skittered down the aisleway, scraping across the stone as it bounced through the now-thankfully-empty-of-Shocker space. I had to crane my neck and look over my shoulder to see Electro brushing the dust off his shoulder. A thin line of blood ran down from the top of his bald skull, caking some of the dust that had fallen onto him. He looked up at us, his fists clenched as small tempests formed around them. “You have no idea how pathetic the two of you look right now. You’ll have to drop a whole church on me to even have a prayer of beating me, Shocker.”

“Wow. The world comes to an end and apparently everyone’s self-esteem problem go bye-bye. Heck, all the Sentry needed was a zombie apocalypse to clear up his issues. Why should I have thought different with you, Max?” Spider-Man had hit the ceiling now, crouched, and holding me with one arm at his side. “Let me guess. You had a lovely talk with Moonstone and it cleared up all of your mommy issues?”

Even from up here, high above the church, I could see the lightning in Electro’s eyes. “Why the hell did you have to make a ‘your mom’ joke, you idiot,” I muttered just before a storm erupted from his body. A huge cloud of electricity filled the air between us, racing towards Spider-Man and myself. Immediately, Spider-Man did the smart thing, and let go of the ceiling. We shot towards the floor, and for a split second, the thought of impact filled my mind until the hammock of webbing appeared below us, anchored to the floor on one end and the wall on the other. Upon impact, the webhead let me go, and harmlessly bounced off the makeshift trampoline, landing with perfect grace on a nearby pew.

Myself? Shoulder first on the stone floor. “Ow.” I attempted to stand back up, but the wooden pew being thrown at me hindered that plan. I covered my head as the hand-crafted, well-tended pew shattered against the wall, splinters raining down on me. As I looked up, Electro was already leaping through the air with an electricity-assisted jump. By the time I got my hands up to blast him out of mid-air, he had tackled me into the stone wall, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “We’ve done this song and dance before, Herman,” Electro said, his body trying to jam me against the stone as he reached for my vibro-smashers. “I grab your gloves, drain...”

I got an elbow up and drove it into his face. It was like sticking my arm into an open streetlight socket, and yanking my arm away on reflex didn’t allow me a follow-through. But it gave me room to spin around and put my gauntlets right under his chin: two level threes right to the jaw from literally point blank range. If Rocky Marciano had done steroids, one of his uppercuts would have looked something like this. Electro’s head snapped back right before his body went airborne, going almost straight up into the air at the impact. The hang time was enough for Spider-Man to land a side-kick square on Electro’s jaw, changing his direction from “straight up” to “violently sideways.” Electro crashed into a nearby pew and fell behind it, disappearing from our sight for a moment.

“He’s stronger, and he’s packing a lot more juice,” Spider-Man proclaimed as he landed from his attack. “Whatever the hell happened to him, it’s made him a tough bastard.”

“Death will do that to a guy. Listen,” I said, cutting off any questions, “we’re running out of time. Whatever the Grim Reaper has planned, it’s going to go down soon. We can’t waste time duking it out with Dillon. We gotta drop him, quick.”

“The Grim...Eric Williams? He’s the one behind all of this?”

“No...but he’s the Prophet. It’s the best way to put it, really.”

That was Electro’s voice, and it wasn’t coming from where he had landed. It was still coming from inside the church, but...the source couldn’t be placed. I stepped away from the wall, my gloves at the ready. The hackles on my neck stood up as I whipped my head around, searching for the source of Electro’s speech.

“I’m sure...Herman...will fill you in on everything, but just know that it’s already too late. The Grim Reaper knows you’re here, but he’s calling me away. There are other power lines out there. I can see them now...mystical energy flowing towards the center of the city. It’s started, and there’s nothing you, Spider-Man, or anyone else can do about it. End of the world...and I’m gonna be the one laughing as your corpses shamble about. See you in Central Park, if you got the guts.”

Suddenly, his green-and-yellow form leapt into the air, near the front of the church. Moving so fast that he was a blur to my eyes, he raced out the door into the New York night. “Damn it,” I cursed. “Should we go after him?”

“We know where he’s going. If he’s stupid enough to go to Central Park, where the Avengers are waiting for him? Yeah, even the new and improved Electro’s gonna get his butt handed to him by Iron Man. Besides, YOU owe me an explanation. You told me Electro was dead. And what does the Grim Reaper have to do with all of this?”

“You are out of the damn loop, aren’t you?” I looked down at the far end of the church, where Boomerang was still untying the Punisher. “Help Fred get the Punisher down, and I’ll fill everyone in before we head out. And for God’s sake, make sure the Punisher doesn’t try to kill Fred.”

“Yeah, give me the impossible task,” Spider-Man said before shooting a line of webbing and swinging away. I followed, walking down the center aisle towards the altar. Spider-Man swung up beside the inverted cross, and I could hear the whispered arguing between himself and Boomerang flare up almost immediately. But as they bickered, they were untying the thick wires that had bounded the Punisher to the large piece of wood. By the time I reached the altar, the two of them were carefully lowering him to the ground. His head was on his chest, and his arms hung limp at his sides. “Careful...careful...” I could hear Spider-Man say as they gently eased him forward, putting him on the ground well away from the pool of his own blood that stained the vestibule floor. “I got you, Castle,” I heard Spider-Man say.

Boomerang stayed well back as Spider-Man helped Castle limp over to the altar. I was waiting for them there, and in my hand was the goblet I had drank from earlier. Boomerang gave me a quizzical eye as I filled it with a little bit of communion wine. As Spider-Man sat the Punisher against the altar to let him rest, I offered him the goblet. “Here, Castle. Take a...”

The man had been hanging upside down for more than a day. A large puddle of his blood covered the rear of St Patrick’s Cathedral. But when his eyes locked with him, I saw the furthest thing from a defeated man. Anger still burned, smoldering like a mine fire deep within the reaches of the Punisher’s soul.

“...sip,” I said, finishing my sentence. I tried to lift the goblet to his lips, but, with a grunt, he took the goblet himself. He tilted the red liquid into his mouth, and after swallowing, he handed the cup back to me, and uttered one word.

“More.”

And damn right, I gave him more. Any thoughts I had about being a damn bad-ass were quickly diminishing standing next to the Punisher. I gave him just a little more wine this time, but when I went for a third refill, he shook his head before I started to pour.

“Ok, Herman,” I heard Spider-Man say as I turned to put the goblet down, “would you fill us in on...”

“HE’S GOT A KNIFE,” Boomerang’s voice bellowed.

As I whipped around, I caught sight of the hunting knife clutched in the Punisher’s hand. The vigilante lunged towards me, bringing the knife down at me before I could get my gloves up in defense...

The webbing attached to the blade and yanked it away just before impact. The Punisher slammed into me lightly, pushing me backwards a bit. His body was limp, falling against mine, like he had put everything into what he had hoped was a killing stroke. After a moment or two of shock, anger rose up, and I shoved the Punisher back into the altar. “The hell, Castle?!? I just helped save your life!”

“That’s supposed to make up for a lifetime of crime. You’re still scum, Schultz.” He managed to cram so much malice into a whisper, I took a step backwards.

“Told you, mate. The Punisher’s too damn stupid to work with anyone. And he killed Stilt-Man, for Christ’s sake, the most harmless criminal on the planet,” Boomerang chimed in. “Seriously, we should off him right now and just spare everyone the grief.” One hand went to a razorang hanging from his belt.

“You’re more than welcome to try, Myers,” the Punisher growled.

“Alright, everyone, KNOCK IT OFF!” Spider-Man flung the blade away. It clattered somewhere among the pews as he pointed a finger at Boomerang. “You! Can you calm your murderous tendencies for just five minutes! And the same goes for you, Castle! There’s much bigger fish to fry here, and Shocker is the only one who can explain what the heck is going on! So, seriously, Herman, you can start with telling us why Electro, who you said the Punisher shot and killed, was walking around and talking like he was still alive?”

“You’re probably going to want to break out the wine again for this,” I groused, still staring at the Punisher. “Electro is dead. You saw him, you saw the bullet wounds. The Grim Reaper apparently brought him back to life. He’s the guy behind the whole zombie mess...I know. He told me himself. And Castle can back me up on this.”

After a few seconds, Castle nodded. “I overheard the whole thing. Williams is nuts, but apparently he’s working for some kind of mystical being.”

“Great...” Boomerang rubbed at his face. “So it IS the Book of bloody Revelations.”

“Mystical being...well that narrows it down. Either of you wouldn’t happen to have a name, would you,” Spider-Man asked.

The Punisher shook his head, but I spoke up. “I know it. I met the guy. I saw him with my own eyes. Hell, I don’t even want to say the guy’s NAME, Spider-Man. It’ll draw his attention.”

“Shocker, we gotta know what we’re dealing with here. Besides, if you talked to the guy, he already knows who you are.”

Webhead had a point. “Alright, alright. Heck, we’re still in a church, maybe it’ll static it up.” Not likely. I took a deep breath before saying his name in a low voice. “Dormammu. That was its name.”

I couldn’t see his face under the mask, but by the way Spider-Man’s shoulders slumped at the sound of that name, his next sentence wasn’t unexpected at all.

“Oh, crap.”

“That bad?” Boomerang asked.

“That bad, Boomerang. Let me put it this way...the Fantastic Four have Galactus. The Avengers have Ultron. Doctor Strange has...him. He’s bad news. When he shows up, dimensions come to an end. I know...I’ve tangled with him once or twice.”

“Great,” Boomerang murmured. “Is there anyone in this damn world you haven’t picked a fight with, wall-crawler?”

“Hey, I don’t go looking for trouble. All you idiots keep crossing paths with me...” Spider-Man held up a hand to interrupt whatever Boomerang was going to say next. “Cram it, mate. You want to argue, we’ll argue later. Herman, go on.”

“Apparently,” I said, “this guy showed Reaper a vision of the future where Norman Osborn is responsible for getting him killed, and then goes on to wreck the world. Reaper’s looking to beat him to the punch by killing Osborn and going on to wreck the world his way...his boss’ way. Which apparently means killing damn near everyone on the planet and leaving the rest for Reaper and his crew to rule over.”

“Osborn.” That was Boomerang, sighing loudly at the edge of the group. “Just so I can get a grasp of the ‘how screwed we all are’ scale, between the Grim Reaper, his boss, and Norman Osborn, where should I rank Norman?”

His statement triggered something I had been meaning to ask. “You mentioned Chameleon earlier...”

“Yeah, that bastard. Got of the damn helicopter acting all solemn and morose, and when I asked where Aleksei was, he told me that the Punisher showed up and killed him. I pretty much knew right there something was up.”

“...I don’t get it,” I replied. “How was that a clue?”

Fred gave a small nod towards the Punisher. “You want to explain this one, or should I?”

The Punisher wiped his cracked lips with the back of his hand. “Systevich and I...had an agreement. He kept his nose clean, I didn’t go after him.”

THAT was news to me. I knew Aleksei had tangled with the Punisher before, but both times, the Punisher had seemed out for blood. “Wait...he kept his nose clean, and that was it?” The vigilante nodded...which just set me off. “And, what, all the stuff I did this past week didn’t count as keeping my nose clean?!?”

I didn’t like the angry look he shot at me, but screw him. “You tried to kill me, Schultz, by leaving me to those ghouls in Washington Square.”

“Only because you were going to shoot me in the fountain! And you tried to shoot me in the bank! And you tried to stab me! TWICE!”

“ANYWAY,” Boomerang’s voice cut through our argument. “If I can finish this story, I figured out something was up, so I tried to track down someone to talk to, like Ms. Marvel or Hank Pym. Instead, I run into Spider-Man...”

“Love you too, Boomerang.” Spider-Man motioned to my friend with a gloved thumb. “Fred here tells me something is up...and since Norman Osborn’s involved, that makes me triple-suspicious. When we confronted Chameleon, it took me threatening him for the poor schmuck to try to fire one of your gloves. The broken radius bone in his forearm was the final piece of evidence. Poor bastard didn’t know how to handle the recoil.”

“We refused to get him medical attention until he told us everything,” Boomerang added. “Even then, it took a little...convincing on my part to get him to confess. He told us how Osborn killed Aleksei and left you to die. After we handed him over to SHIELD, Fury told Spider-Man to go looking for you.”

“And Fred here...he insisted on coming along,” Spider-Man added.

“Don’t read anything into it,” Boomerang quickly added. “I just wanted to make sure the wall-crawler here didn’t try anything fishy.”

I had to give Boomerang credit...and Spider-Man. “Nice job, you two. So how the hell did you track me down?”

Spider-Man scratched at the back of his head as Boomerang answered. “Remember when you ran into Spider-Man outside the bank? Bastard stuck a tracer in your uniform so him and his spandex-buddies could keep track of you.”

I did one of those annoyed nods. “Of course. Once again, Norman Osborn gets a free pass to run around the damn Helicarrier and I get bagged and tagged like a wild animal...”

“Trust but verify, Schultz. And besides,” Spider-Man said with that smarmy edge of us, “if I hadn’t stuck a spider signal on you, Electro would still be treating you like a spool of copper wire.” Again, Spider-Man had a point, and I nodded, conceding the point to him. I still didn’t like it, but whatever. “And while we’re on the topic of Electro...he’s working for the Grim Reaper?”

“So’s Toomes,” Castle said, sitting up straight now against the altar. “And Mordo...”

“Yeah. Wherever Dormammu goes...” I winced at Spider-Man’s use of his name. “...Mordo ain’t too far behind.”

“He’s not alone. He’s got Black Talon,” Punisher added, “Chondu, Llan, and Nekra. And something called the Darkhold. That’s what Williams was waiting for, the last piece of the puzzle. He left here with all of them to head to Central Park and start whatever his grand plan is about two hours ago.”

“Everything was fine when we left,” Spider-Man said. “Doctor Strange was getting ready to open up the portal and get all the civilians moving. So if the Reaper’s put his plan in motion, we probably still have time to stop it. But we gotta hurry, like right now.”

“Yeah, let’s stop the damn bickering and get a move on,” I proclaimed. “Castle, you ok to walk?”

The Punisher and Boomerang both blinked at my question. Castle recovered first. “You’re concerned? I just tried to kill you about a minute ago.”

“Personally, I’m pretty damn pissed about it, but I’m willing to put it to the side for now. The end of the world and thousands of civilians up in Central Park kind of takes precedent at the moment. I’m not the kind to hold grudges...”

(Pause here for reader laughter)

“...so I’ll set it aside if you will.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. The look on the Punisher’s face said it all. Here was a guy who dealt in nothing but absolutes. Good was good, evil was evil, and shades of gray were just lighter mixes of black. For a second, I was jealous of the Punisher...it must have been so liberating to be able to see the world in such a simple way.

“How about you just take it under advisement for a while, Castle?” Spider-Man stepped between me and the vigilante, taking the full brunt of Castle’s stare. “Shocker’s right. We need your help, but damn it, I’m going to risk my street cred and vouch for Shocker on this one. You want to go after him again...wait until we’ve stopped the Grim Reaper and whatever plan Osborn’s cooked up. They’re the A-list problem right now, not Herman.”

“I think I’m almost offended,” I said.

“Hey, Herman, if it’s any consolation...right now, you’re a VERY solid B-list, B-plus-list even. You’re one good ‘take over the world’ plan from making the A-list.”

“How the hell can you make jokes at a time like this, Spider-Man,” the Punisher growled.

“Um...have you MET me, Castle?” Spider-Man waved a hand. “Never mind. Less time bickering, more time moving. Get ready to go, I’m gonna call this one in.” He turned away, pulling something out of his costume. He flipped it open, revealing a communications device. “Spider-Man to Colonel Fury, come in...”

“Mate...this is finally insane.” Boomerang stepped close to me, whispering in a low voice. “The living dead’s crazy. Working with superheroes is loony. Electro coming back from the dead’s over-the-top. And now, teaming up with Spider-Man and the Punisher to stop the Grim Reaper and some god from taking over the world?” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and popped his cheek. “That’s the sound of a self-induced lobotomy, because my brain just can’t handle all this.”

“Oh, and you think I’m all daisies and lollipops, Fred? I don’t know how the hell I haven’t had a nervous breakdown at this point. I just talked to a GOD, Fred, and I can barely talk to a female member of the Serpent Society!”

“That’s my point, Herman. This is just too damn much for me. Superheroes and supervillains, I can deal, but you add magic and mystical mumbo jumbo to the mix? Yank me from the game and send in a relief pitcher, because my mother didn’t raise a bloody idiot.” He put up his hand and took a step back. “I’m out. This is the damn end of the line for me, Herman.”

“Fred...you’re absolutely right.” That got Fred’s attention. I knew what he was expecting, more point-and-counterpoint like we had always used when arguing. So...hey, I fight dirty, why not argue the same way? “This is way over both our heads, man. Seriously, what, Doctor Doom I think is where my upper level of villainy ends. Beyond that, that’s Avengers-level fighting, and they can deal with it. Taking on gods is WAY above our pay grades.”

“Damn right...”

“That’s why I’m staying.” Boomerang let out a resigned sigh as I spoke. “Fred, they need everyone. This is the big one, freakin’ D-Day here. It’s our damn civic duty...”

“Hah! You didn’t even VOTE in the last election, Herman!”

“...ok, if that’s your counterargument...”

“Herman, it’s a god, like you said. You know what that means? Game over. He wins, you lose...”

I had it. Just absolutely had it. “You coward, Fred. You damn coward.”

His eyes narrowed, like a pitcher staring down a batter with a full count. “Don’t you dare say that, Herman. I ain’t no coward. I just know when I’m licked, and from what it sounds like, humanity’s licked.”

“And you won’t even stand and fight for it? You’re a human, Fred. You don’t think the end of the damn world doesn’t affect you?”

“No, Herman, it doesn’t. I’ve kept my head down, like YOU always did. Before this whole mess started, I would have thought you would have done exactly what I did. Low profile, hide out, wait it out. But no, you had to go play hero and get a swelled head in the process and now all that ego’s pushing on your brain! You’re the one who waved his hands going ‘look at me, look at me, I’m the damn Shocker!’ Well, now the Grim Reaper knows who you are, and when you show up in Central Park, you’re gonna have a big bullseye plastered on your chest...oh, and let’s not forget, Norman Osborn also has it out for you, so when you show up, he’s gonna want to kill you again! Rock, hard place, and your ass is stepping right into the middle!”

“You don’t think I know that! Fred, this is bigger than that. And a lot more personal. The Grim Reaper tried to get me killed. Osborn tried to kill me. He killed Aleksei. I saw my best friend die, right in front of me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. You don’t want to take a swing as Osborn for that? Aleksei was your friend too.”

“Yeah, he was...and he’s dead. And I don’t want to watch another friend die right in front of me. You want to have a nice life, what’s left of it, go ahead. My ass is going down to Aruba, and...”

“Myers.”

Both of us stopped, and slowly turned. Standing beside us, having lurched up without either of us noticing, the Punisher’s gaze was fixed on Boomerang. One look from the vigilante, and Fred shut right the hell up. “Myers, if you run, I will find you. If you think about running, I will find you. If you stray outside of a one-block radius from Central Park, I will find you. It doesn’t matter if it’s seven minutes or seven years, if you don’t come with us to Central Park, I will hunt you down, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Some people make threats. The Punisher states fact. Fred went pale white at the final words of the Punisher, and almost forgot to nod. “Al...alright, mate. I got it.”

The Punisher’s nod were barely noticeable, but you could see the relief on Fred’s face as Castle turned to look at me. “Just because we’re doing this, don’t think we’re friends. You’re still scum, Schultz, and if you put one foot wrong, I don’t care how many friends you made in high places, I’ll put you down right then and there.”

“...got it,” I managed to get out after a moment.

Thank God for Spider-Man, who chose that moment to come back over. “Problem. I was trying to get through to Nick Fury, but we got cut off by a long burst of static.”

“Electro,” both Castle and I said at the same time.

“Yeah,” Spider-Man agreed, “jamming cell phones is a common trick for him. But jamming encrypted SHIELD communications is too new for comfort. We roll, now. You need a hand, Castle?”

The Punisher waved him off. “Just blood loss. I’ve had worse.”

I so wanted to ask ‘when,’ but I refrained. “Alright. Let’s get the hell out of this church.”

“That’s...a lot of zombies,” I murmured.

“Aye,” Boomerang said in agreement.

The edges of Central Park were lined with floodlights, illuminating the entire length of Fifth Avenue, which was packed with the living dead. We stood just behind the Fifth Avenue Subway station, well out of sight, but not a single zombie was glancing in our direction. Their entire focus, from the General Motors Building all the way up to Victorian Gardens, was on the barricades that ran the entire length of the thoroughfare. I had seen them in my dream a few nights ago. Thin, white barricades, the height of three men, that weighed like they were made out of plastic and could absorb as much force as a steel plate, they were the brainchild of the smartest man on the planet; Reed Richards. They were meant to be used as easily deployable crowd control, able to be set up at nearly a moment’s notice. For riots, or massive public events, they were incredibly effective. Against a long row of a little more than a quarter of all the zombies in New York City, I don’t think they were meant to wobble like that.

They crowded the sidewalk and about half the street, clawing at the barrier or pushing to get close to it. When the four of us had stepped outside of St Patrick’s, the air had been filled with their moaning, a cacophony that echoed over all of Midtown, and I’m sure beyond. We hadn’t seen a single zombie on our run from Rockefeller Center to this point, and now, we knew why. They were all here.

“This has to be the Reaper’s doing,” I said in a quiet voice. They probably couldn’t hear us over their own moaning, but why take that chance? “Get all the zombies in one place and just hope they overwhelm the barricade at some point.”

“No. They’ve been doing that since Osborn set up his rescue station. And look how spread out they are. He’s laying siege to the whole Park.” The Punisher had kept right up with us, never complaining, never asking us to slow down. It turns out someone had made a small cut behind his ear, just deep enough to let the blood flow freely. A little bit of rubber cement had sealed it right up, and since then, he had been the scary vigilante I knew and loathed. “There’s gotta be more to it. Or else he wouldn’t have been waiting for Baron Mordo to get the Darkhold.”

“What does it do, this Darkhold,” Fred asked.

“I don’t know, Myers. It’s probably some kind of magical WMD,” the Punisher replied.

“In any case, we have to get inside and let Doctor Strange and Nick Fury know that the Grim Reaper’s up to something. I’ll grab the Punisher. Boomerang, you grab Shocker. Once we’re over the walls, SHIELD’s set up near the Reservoir...”

“No.” Leave it to the damn Punisher to bring a logical, get-our-asses-relatively-safe plan to a screeching halt with one word. “You three get in there and warn Fury and Strange.”

“Oh really,” Boomerang said sarcastically. “And what the hell are you going to do, Punisher, shoot all the zombies for making a public disturbance?”

“Yeah, Myers. I guess you’re not as dumb as you look.” Punisher pointed up Fifth Avenue. “I got a cache of weapons and supplies up near the Arsenal on 66th. Since someone here took my knife, I’m pretty much useless.”

“66th? That’s six blocks. You know the second one of those zombies sees you, it’s game over,” I said. “You’ll never make it by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Schultz. Your job is to get in there and stop the Reaper. Now, go on.” The Punisher turned, and started across 60th street. He was moving, but now that he didn’t have to keep up with us, his motions were a lot more deliberate.

“He can only handle two zombies, three max,” Boomerang pointed out as the Punisher leaned on a parking meter for a moment. After a second, he shrugged. “But hey, if he’s going to be an idiot, screw him. Come on, I’ll carry Herman.”

Boomerang was moving to grab me around the waist when I put a hand up. “You two go on. I’m gonna be his wingman.”

With a sigh, my friend rubbed the bridge of his nose, like he was getting a headache. “Oh, bloody Christ, mate...”

“Fred, if you had a chance to bet that the Punisher could kill one hundred zombies in sixty seconds, you’d take it, right?”

“Well...yeah, but...if Castle wants to walk willingly into the Lion’s Den, I’m not going to stop him. Hell, if matters weren’t so pressing, I’d grab a beer and some popcorn to enjoy the bloody show.”

“We need him. I know, I know, it’s the guy who tried to kill me a bunch of times, but...I don’t know, Fred. I really don’t. But my gut’s telling me to keep him safe, and damn it, my gut’s gotten me this far.”

Boomerang didn't try to change my mind at least. “Alright, at least let me go with you...”

“You’ll only antagonize the man, Fred.” Spider-Man motioned to the park across the street. “Herman, are you sure about this?”

“Not entirely...but hell, I’ve been lucky all week. Might as well see if the streak holds. Now, get in there.” Before either one could respond, I was trotting across the street, towards where the Punisher was stumbling into an alleyway. I heard the whine of Fred’s rocket boots igniting as I reached the end of the alley, barely audible over the sounds of the zombie horde.

There’s a long list of really stupid stuff I’ve done. Fighting Spider-Man’s on it a lot. Not banging Kelly Patterson in the tenth grade is on it. Calling the Gibbon an idiot is on it. And trying to kill the Trapster, especially in hindsight, is on it. Following the man who’s tried to kill me three, technically four, has easily vaulted into the top ten. Here was a guy who was walking into certain death, a guy who had killed numerous villains, colleagues, and a few friends of mine, and had no convictions upon putting a bullet between my eyes. So why was I risking my life to make sure this guy lived? The firepower the Punisher had stocked away probably could arm a Third World nation, and I had watched him mow down a lot of zombies in Washington Square Park without breaking a sweat. All those bullets could only come in handy. And the grenades. And the Claymores. And the RPG’s. You know he had to have them...

More than that, though. A year ago, Iron Man, Captain America, Reed Richards, Hank Pym, the Punisher, Ms. Marvel, the Sentry, and Spider-Man were at each other’s throats over the Superhuman Registration Act. Now, though, in the face of mortal danger, they had all put their differences aside. And then, add that nearly the entire supervillain community has thrown its lot in with the heroes. Huh...the dead rising from the grave, human sacrifice, heroes and villains working together, and now mass hysteria with my deluded self trying to help the Punisher. Look, it boils down to this. Trust. Right now, Doctor Octopus is standing next to Hank Pym, Thunderball and Thor are making plans, and even Molecule Man and Reed Richards aren’t killing each other. That has to stand for something, when the guy next to you has fought you tooth and nail for years, but knows when to put it aside when something bigger is at stake. They got it. Electro and the Vulture didn’t. I was the one who apparently started this whole hero-villain massive team up in the first place...so I had my own example to live up to.

I spoke in a low, clear tone as I approached the Punisher, his hand on the brick wall of the alleyway for support and guidance. “Take your time, Castle. I got your back.”

His head whipped around, causing me to freeze in place when I caught the look on his face. “Schultz, what are you doing?”

“Covering you. Now, keep going, we’re on a bit of a time crunch here.” I motioned with my gloves. “Two of us can get their faster than one of us if a ghoul pops up.”

“I don’t want your damn help, Schultz. Go play hero somewhere else.”

“Look, you don’t want my help. But you need it, Castle.”

“No, I don’t. Now, I have to watch my damn back for you trying to stab me in it.”

“Who scares you more, Castle? Zombies or me?”

“Neither.” But after a few seconds of staring, he lurched forward. “We’re going to 66th, halfway between Madison and Fifth.” I kept a good distance behind, my thumbs off the triggers, but my eyes scanning every nook and cranny. “There’s a manhole cover in the street. My cache is down there, just underneath the Arsenal.”

I wanted to ask him how the hell he was going to get a manhole cover off in his condition, but I kept my mouth shut. Don’t poke the angry lion, Herman. “What do you have down there?”

“Rifles, submachine guns, bullets, grenades, and about ten pints of O Negative.”

“Christ. Were you a Boy Scout when you were a kid?”

He didn’t answer as we reached the end of the alleyway at 61st Street. I kept my mouth shut as we crept along the narrow path towards the towering buildings. The street was lit by the residual glow coming from the floodlights just inside Central Park, illuminating a scene right out of the “how to write an apocalypse” handbook. 5th Avenue and Madison had been cleared for the incoming flood of refugees, and in the process, the cross avenue we were darting across were free of wreckage. It was a tense experience, going from dark alleyways where the undead could be lurking in the shadows to darting across a well-lit street without any cover to conceal us if one of the zombies from Central Park happened to glance over its shoulder as we ran. And run we did. In the alleyway, the Punisher had leaned on the wall, stumbling with measured steps. Once we got to the end, though, I found myself having to almost to sprint to keep up with him. Anytime I tried to step in front of him in an attempt to take the lead, I was rewarded with a stern look as the vigilante pushed himself harder. I eventually hung back just so I didn't push him too hard. What the hell drove this guy? Being thrown through the air by Thor, captured by the Grim Reaper, trussed up and left to bleed out like a dead deer, suffering from blood loss that would have put anyone else into a damn coma, and this guy was still pushing himself to keep a faster pace than me. I wanted to ask him...but as I learned back in Washington Square, asking the Punisher questions isn't the wisest of moves.

The way I would have gone would have been back down to Madison Avenue, head up a few blocks, and turn down East 66th Street, which ended at the old New York Arsenal. But the Punisher headed right for a small park on the north side of 61st. I followed right behind him as we wove our way through the stone planters, stepping over a half-eaten body along the way. He took the lead, weaving us through small pathways, buildings under construction, and the lobby of a shopping galleria. That's where I was the most nervous. Shopping malls should never be empty. Every step I took, my metal boots clicking off of the granite floor, I expected a horde of zombies to come flooding out of the shops after us. We made it through the mall without a problem, though, coming out onto East 66th Street. Following the Punisher's lead, I crouched behind a panel truck, listening to him speak as I kept a wary eye on the mall's entrance. Just in case.

“There's a manhole about fifty meters from the end of the street,” he said. “If you want to be useful, Schultz, you can do the heavy lifting and head down first. You still got night-vision in your mask?”

“Yeah...” I touched my mask, and the dark street became green-and-white for a moment. “Still works,” I told him as I turned it back off.

He acknowledged via grunt, and turned to head out. I was following him before he suddenly spun back, motioning with a hand for me to come to a sudden stop. I immediately froze. “Wh...” That was all I got out before he slashed at the air with his hand to silence me. Carefully, the Punisher crouched down to the ground, his back flush against the panel truck. I kept an eye out behind us as, slowly, he eased his head out around the corner of the truck's rear bumper. After a few moments, he pulled back, and looked up at me. “Problem. There's someone standing near the manhole.”

“Zombie?”

“Not quite. Take a look...carefully,” he said, emphasizing the last word. I leaned over him, one hand on the truck for balance, and peered out. The...problem...in question was easily visible. At the end of the street, the horde still shoved and clawed, trying to get past the barricades into the park. Behind them, by maybe thirty yards, a pick-up truck was parked in the middle of the street, the only vehicle visible anywhere along this stretch of 66th. Standing in the bed of the pick-up, a figure raised his hands towards the horde, razors attached to the tips of the blue gloves he wore. He swayed slightly from side-to-side, his hands slowly moving in some sort of pattern. It was his outfit that gave his identity away, though. He called it “ceremonial robes of an ancient people.” Everyone else called it “the chicken suit.”

“Black Talon.” I pulled back behind the panel truck, shaking my head. Last I had heard, the former voodoo priest had quit the black magic racket and was selling magically enhanced cocaine for the Hood’s syndicate. Guess the Reaper’s offer pulled him right back in. “I’d recognize that stupid costume of his anywhere.”

“That truck’s parked right in front of the manhole.” The Punisher was leaning out again, studying the street. “There’s no way we can sneak down there. Even if we closed the distance, he’s going to hear you moving the cover off.”

“Can’t we just go to another manhole? There’s plenty of sewer lines that feed into Central Park.”

“The tunnel’s sealed at both ends,” he responded. “One entrance is in Central Park. The other’s right there. ConEd decommissioned the tunnel back in the 80’s and never got around to paving over the manholes.”

“Hell, I could blow through any barricades ConEd put up in my sleep.” I stuck my head out again, doing my best to minimize my sight profile. “Is he controlling all those zombies?”

“It’s his MO. Nekra stole some rites from Black Talon and used them to bring the Grim Reaper back to life. Twice.”

“How the hell did you know that, Punisher?”

“The same way I know you’ve been in psychoanalysis for the past two years for low-self esteem issues. Now, be quiet.”

“How...”

“Quiet,” he growled. The moaning of the zombies drowned out any other ambient sounds the abandoned city made as the Punisher studied the situation in front of him. I wanted to chime in with the fact that, hey, I had gloves that could blow through walls and that any barricade ConEd put up to seal a tunnel would have been constructed by bored union guys looking to finish the damn job and get out of the sewers as quickly as possible. No muss, no fuss, and avoiding any confrontation with a villain who raises the dead for a living.

Yeah...this is the Punisher. There’s no way he’d pass up a chance to take a shot at a bad guy, especially a bad guy whose MO is directly tied to the impending apocalypse. And for once, I was right there with the Punisher’s thought process. Spider-Man did it to the Sinister Six all the time. Isolate one member, beat him into submission, and the Sinister Six became the Sinister Five. Black Talon was part of the Reaper’s crew, and if we could drop him, it could only be a good thing.

“We’re going to take him out, Schultz.” I nodded at the Punisher’s statement, and he gave me the slightest nod in return. “You’re going to be the distraction and give me time to get in position.”

“Distraction...in other words, bait.” Exposing myself completely and utterly on the street without any cover, waving my hands and yelling “hey, bad guy, here I am?” Hell, that’s how I got involved in this whole situation a week ago. Why mess with success? I leaned out from behind the truck one last time. “You need him looking a certain way?”

“Not at me. Just hold his attention, Schultz. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Who, me?” I slid around the Punisher, carefully easing my way out from behind the panel truck. The street was wide open, without a single wrecked car to provide me any sort of cover. Alright. I could crouch along, trying to get as close as I could before being noticed. Or...I could go on the belief that the moans of the zombies would cover any noise I made and I could just walk down the middle of the damn street. Hell, being brazen and brash would probably grab Black Talon’s attention more than me trying to be sneaky.

I had to wonder what the Punisher was thinking as I just strode down the center of East 66th like an Old West gunfighter. Each step brought me closer to Black Talon, and to the horde of zombies that craved the flesh inside Central Park. No pressure, though. No fear. That was the weird part. Zombies in front of me, the Punisher behind me, Black Talon in my sights, and here it was. That power walk I mentioned earlier, the stuff that guys like Bullseye or Iron Man pulled off unconsciously. It was creeping into my stride, hands slightly out from my hips, eyes straight ahead, shoulders squared with Black Talon. My eyes moved from side-to-side, keeping an eye out for any stray zombies, as well as trying to catch a glimpse of the Punisher. No head movements, though, to try and see him. My focus was on Black Talon and him alone.

The comms in my head were still disabled. Trapster had done too good a job. But I still had the visual and audio enhancers. As I got closer, and the soul scraping groans of the zombies became more prevalent, I did my best to electronically wash out the sound. I had heard it enough during the past few days, and my nightmares could only take so much more audio input. As the moans were muted, I picked up a new sound, one that had been drowned out by the cries of the living dead. As I approached Black Talon, it became obvious that the voodoo priest was chanting. In French. If hours of late night bad B-movies on public access taught me anything, chanting in another language, mixed with the repeated hand gestures, was usually a sign of some kind of magic ritual. Magic rituals, especially tonight, are not good.

His head never turned as I reached the pick-up truck. I stood ten feet from the rear of the vehicle, point-blank range for my vibro-smashers. Black Talon must have been engrossed with the spell he was weaving...or I wasn’t a threat to him. Well, if so, that was about to change for damn sure.

“Talon!”

That was my attempt “you’re going to turn around and look at me” voice, like the kind Thor uses a lot. When he didn’t glance back at me, I cleared my throat and added a little more bass to my voice. “Talon! Yeah, you on the back of the pick-up truck!”

Nothing.

Oh, come on. I raised my hand, and cuffed him across the back of his head with a level-one blast. “Yo, Talon! I’m talking to you!”

The chanting stopped. And the foreboding began as he slowly lowered his hands. “Well. Looks like Electro couldn’t handle the job.” He turned around, milking the moment for everything like the part-time cult leader he sometimes was. “And now, I get to finish you off. I’m sure the Grim Reaper will reward me for succeeding where Electro failed.

I tried. I really did. But let’s be honest. Here was a guy who could raise the dead, talk to spirits, and worked with black magic on a daily basis. I’m pretty sure, if he had a sample of my hair, Black Talon could probably explode my heart like a baked potato. But dear God in Heaven (if he’s paying attention), the man could NOT have picked a stupider costume, and I used to hang out with the Porcupine. A blue cape that flowed into long sleeves like a bird’s wings, yellow boots that looked like claws, yellow gloves that looked like claws, and a red plume on his head. Now, add to it that his costume has no chest, and the guy looks like one of the Birds of War from the wrestling episode of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” and I’m sorry, but there’s no way in hell I can take him seriously. The Grim Reaper looks scary. The Punisher has a skull right there on his chest. Black Talon has plumage. Even the Vulture didn’t really have plumage.

Ok, ok, Herman, focus. Don’t underestimate the bad guy. Do your job, keep him distracted.

(Oh, and here’s another reason to be pissed at the Grim Reaper. I actually PRE-ORDERED a copy of the Christmas episode of “It’s Always Sunny.” A legitimate order with an actual credit card. I’m going to really be ticked if I miss out on it. I imagine a couple of people on the Internet, if they’re still alive, are bitching “the end of the world better not interfere with the final season of ‘Lost!’”)

“What can I say, Talon? Max tried, but he chickened out.”

Aw, damn it, was that a chicken joke?

One eye was covered by a black eye patch. His other eye was a swirling ball of red, narrowing slightly at my joke. “Seriously? I always knew you were book smart, Shocker, but the chicken jokes have been done to death.”

“I know, I know,” I replied. “It’s a fowl offense...damn it, ok, that one just slipped out, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My mind’s just fried...whoa, Talon, I didn’t mean...this whole week’s just been one big cock up.”

I had Spider-Man Syndrome. One bad pun turned into a hurricane of them. The good news? I had Black Talon’s full attention. Nothing gets a bad guy’s attention like taunting him. The bad news? I had Black Talon’s full attention. Nothing gets a bad guy’s attention like taunting him.

“You have no idea what you are in for, Herman.” The priest took one step forward, causing me to raise one of my gauntlets in response. “The rituals have begun. And once the witching hour hits, and everything’s in conju...

*BLAM!*

The eye patch disintegrated as the back of Talon’s head exploded. The rear window of the pick-up was splattered with brain matter mixed with a delightful garnish of red blood. His remaining eye didn’t even have time to go wide with surprise as Talon’s head rocked backwards for a moment, before his body fell forward, collapsing face-first in an unmoving heap in the truck’s bed.

I knew what I’d see even as I turned around. The .44 Magnum smoked in the Punisher’s hand as he walked up behind me. “Jesus, Castle! Warn a guy next time!”

“Element of surprise,” he growled, peering into the back of the truck as Talon’s unmoving body. “He didn’t see it coming.”

“Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway! Did you pull it out of your ass?”

“Stashed in a UPS box a few days ago, in case of emergencies.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“In case of...what if some kid found it!”

“If a little kid is trying to squeeze into a mailbox, he’s probably got bigger problems than finding a loaded gun. It might actually save his life.”

The zombie horde didn’t seem to notice a large caliber handgun firing behind them. A sound that was like ringing the dinner bell didn’t pull any extra attention. “Well...as much as I disagree with you on gun safety...”

And I wasn’t going to argue the fact that I had just seen the Punisher kill a guy in cold blood, right in front of me. That would be like arguing with Doctor Doom about his megalomania.

“...let’s just get the hell underground.”

The Punisher motioned to the manhole cover. “Get it open, Schultz. I’ll cover the ugh.”

Cover the ‘ugh?’ I was about to ask him what the hell an ‘ugh’ was when I saw him stumble forward a step or two away from the pick-up truck. The ‘ugh’ had come from the steel claws of the end of Black Talon’s glove slashing the Punisher across the back. The vigilante spun around, letting me see the cuts in the Kevlar armor he wore stretching across his shoulder. Nothing deep, thankfully, but let’s not forget that a dead man had slashed him in the first place.

“You shot me before, Castle, and the Grim Reaper made sure I got back up.” Talon slithered from the back of the pick-up, swinging around to land on his feet as he jumped down to the pavement. The illumination from the floodlights shone through the hole behind his ruined eye patch, covering part of his face in shadow. “What makes you think this time would be any different?”

“I’ve got...”

*BLAM!*

“...more bullets.”

*BLAM*

“And a bigger gun.”

*BLAM* *BLAM*

The gunshots right next to my ear sounded like the fist of an angry god. Four bullets slammed into the muscular chest of Black Talon, blood spurting from each impact. And the bastard just stood there, doing nothing more than shaking slightly as each round hit home. The echo of the final gunshot was mixed in with the booming laughter that came, mockingly, from the voodoo priest. “A valiant try, Castle, but bullets don’t...”

*BLAM*

Talon’s head rocked backwards as the .44 roared for a final time. His remaining eye vanished under the hailstone of gunfire. His skull, already weakened from the first gunshot, exploded from the back, sending what bits of brain matter were left in his cranial cavity flying into the air. It was like staring into the Lincoln Tunnel, light shining through two bored holes. There was no chance in hell Black Talon had any reasoning capacity left, because he couldn’t have had a brain left...

The laughter from the voodoo priest was impossible. He had no eyes. He had no brain. I could SEE Central Park behind him. But there he was, crossing his arms across the bullet wounds on his chest. “Destroying the brain won’t work on me, Castle. I’m not one of the normal living dead. I’m something special. Something evolved.”

“Schultz, get the manhole cover.” The Punisher shoved the gun into one of his side holsters, and then threw himself at Black Talon. For a split second, I was stunned. He shouldn’t be walking, he just emptied six bullets into a hardly-fazed Black Talon, and now he just barely ducked underneath a wicked swipe from the bad guy.

“SCHULTZ, THE DAMN COVER!”

Immediately, I dropped down to one knee. My fingers traced the edge of the cover where it was flush against the rest of the street, trying to find a notch to slip my hand underneath and get some leverage. The Punisher used a hand to parry one of Black Talon’s punches...but then he stumbled back, wincing, as Talon lashed out with his clawed boot, raking Castle across the thigh.

Damn it. The manhole cover was too snug in place and my fingers couldn’t fit. I needed some kind of prybar...or I could just blow the thing open. I made a fist, placing the thumb on the trigger of my weapon, and punched at the edge of the manhole as I fired.

“Crap!” I had to dodge out of the way as the round piece of metal flipped into the air. It sounded like a gunshot as it clanged off the pavement, clattering a few times before coming to a halt. Alright, I had done what the Punisher asked. Now all we had to do was get the hell away from Black Talon. This was going to be difficult, because right now, Black Talon was getting the upper hand. He had the Punisher on the defensive, swiping and picking away at the vigilante. And Castle wasn’t in the “let me sucker you in” defensive mode; this was the “I need a miracle to get out of this” defensive mode. As soon as he parried or ducked a blow from Black Talon, another one was right there. He wasn’t getting a chance to rest, to think.

“Talon’s going to kill him,” I mumbled.

With a shrill cry of triumph, Talon’s foot slammed against the Punisher’s ankle, sweeping the leg out from underneath the vigilante. The Punisher was trying to roll away even as he landed on the asphalt, but a swift kick from Black Talon to his ribs stopped that motion. Talon dropped to one knee, straddling Castle. He grabbed Castle’s face with one hand, and yanked it off the ground. “You took both my eyes. Luckily, I don’t need them anymore. You, though...” One talon slowly sliced up the side of Castle’s cheek, barely avoiding breaking the skin. “...well, let’s see if you can function with only one eye, Castle...”

“Hey, Talon!” I stood behind him, towering over where he was crouched. “You said you’re a different kind of zombie, right?”

He half-turned to ‘look’ at me, a smile forming on his ruined face. “Oh yes, Herman. Death’s been very good to me.”

“Good. Then I can do this without worry.”

I brought the manhole cover down on his skull with both hands.

It was like slamming a watermelon with a sledgehammer. What was left of Black Talon’s head cracked under the weight of the attack. Bone shards splintered as the skin and muscle surrounding the skull collapsed, turning into a spray of red that radiated 360 degrees. The front of my armor got a large amount of blood splashed across the torso, the impact setting off the contact panels. I let go of the cover, taking a step backwards from the body. Black Talon’s corpse was still in a kneeling position, with the manhole cover balancing on his shoulder blades, wobbling slightly as gravity slowly began to work its magic. The Punisher pulled himself away as the headless priest’s body leaned forward, falling slowly like a tree after the lumberjacks had finished with it. The cover slid off, banging onto the street, followed by Black Talon’s lifeless corpse bouncing onto the pavement next to it.

“Hurk...”

I barely got my mask off before I threw up. Doubled over on the street, the last meal I had eaten in the warehouse splattered off of the pavement, and my body kept trying to heave up anything else in my GI tract. I had seen some nasty stuff in my time as a villain, but turning someone’s brains into tomato paste was a new one.

“Schultz.” I felt a hand pull me back into an upright position. The Kevlar on the Punisher’s chest glistened as blood dripped from small cuts in the material, and he started at me with those dead, neutral eyes. “You’ve been blasting zombies for a week. This isn’t any different.”

I wiped at my mouth, sticking my tongue out to try to get the bile taste out of my mouth. “Jesus, Castle, that...”

“He was dead,” the Punisher interrupted me. “Dead. You didn’t kill a human being, you put down a corpse. I killed him last night. You just finished it off. Now, pull it together and get down in the sewer. I’ll...” He paused, cocking his head to one side. “You hear something?”

I did. It sounded like a little bit of gravel falling on a tin roof. “Whatever it is, Castle, it can’t be good. Let’s get the hell...”

Pause.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

One of Black Talon’s teeth was bouncing across the pavement. It would bounce an inch or two, come to a stop, and then roll over to move a little further. I watched, spellbound, as the tooth rolled into a small red puddle, and stop in an upright position. Immediately, it was followed by a second tooth, and a shard of bone. The red puddle slowly flowed upwards, leeching its way around the teeth, and solidifying into something resembling gums.

“We gotta go,” I muttered as the combination of teeth, gum, and bone began to roll towards the neck of Black Talon’s body. All across the pavement, the goo that had been his head was moving as well, all pulling towards each other and reforming into part of his head even as they rolled. “That’s just not right...”

“Into the sewer, Schultz. Go.” The Punisher urged me on, and I followed his direction, heading right for the opening in the street. I could handle heads exploding. It was the putting them back together that scratched at the subconscious part of my mind. Pulling my mask back on, I clicked on my night vision goggles as I peered into the hole. Nothing moved below but the gentle trickle of water. Made sense, since there was an entire city not using toilets or sinks right now. I carefully climbed down, using the rungs set in the side of the tunnel. The Punisher had picked well. The tunnel must have been a “sewer main,” just tall enough to stand in and just wide enough for two people to walk sort-of-side-by-soft-of-side. A quick check up and down showed nothing moving towards me.

A pair of boots landed beside me. “End of the tunnel, Schultz,” the Punisher said gruffly, “all the way to the wall. And move it. Black Talon’s got his jaw back now.”

As I moved forward, I asked “want me to keep an eye on the manhole in case he tries to come down here?”

“No. Just get us to the damn wall.” Our boots made quiet splashes in the water as we double-timed it, maybe twenty or thirty yards from where we had slid into the sewer. Above us, the moans and shuffling of the packed zombie horde against the Central Park barricades was muffled by the layer of asphalt and pipes above our heads. We reached the end of the tunnel, and my night-vision revealed it to be a simple brick wall, stacked on top of each other and sealed with mortar, a barricade I could easily have blasted through. The Punisher pushed past me, and after a second, pushed one of the bricks. It sank into the wall, and quietly, the right section of the wall swung open. “Go on, and watch your step. There’s a bear trap on the ground, and the teeth...are smeared with something.”

Oh yeah, I watched my step. I had to squeeze through the opening, my eyes on the ground. In low-light vision, the cold metal of the trap appeared even more wicked. A big step took me over the trap as the Punisher stepped behind me. The wall clicked back into place as the Punisher stepped around the trap. Behind the barricade, the tunnel stretched out a little further before ending in a series of iron bars as the floor sloped downward out of sight. To the side of the iron bars, a metal door was set into the wall, and a padlock, the kind ConEd uses to lock maintenance doors, held it shut.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about Black Talon,” I said in a low voice.

“Black Talon should be worried about me.” The Punisher was running his hand along a pipe high on the wall. His shoulder stretched, putting pressure on the cuts as he grunted. “Damn it. I know it’s up here...”

Under my mask, for the first time in days, I felt a genuine smile creep across my face. “I got this, Punisher.” I stepped past him, looking down at the lock. Child’s play. I opened a compartment on my belt, pulling out one of my trusty lockpicks. Five seconds later, the lock popped open. That felt good.

“Huh,” the Punisher said as I put the lockpick back. He stepped past me, and opened up the door. “Tripwire, chest high. Watch it.”

I followed him inside, closing the door behind us and ducking where he ducked to walk underneath a taut wire stretched across the short entryway. I was standing back up when, with a flick of his wrist, the Punisher snapped the light switch. As the small room lit up, I gave off a low whistle. “Damn, Castle. You don’t mess around.”

Guns. Lots of guns. Hanging on the walls, stacked in crates on the ground, lying on workbenches. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns, submachine guns, rifles, assault rifles. Grenades, fragmentation mines, flashbangs, and a couple of gallon jugs filled with some sort of clear jelly. “What the hell were you doing, planning to fight a war?”

He had hobbled to a refrigerator humming away in the corner. “I was going after a slaver ring when the dead started rising. I don’t like slavers, Herman.”

“I can tell,” I muttered, nodding in agreement. “Alright. So what do we do now?”

“We aren’t going to do anything.” Castle was pulling plastic bags from the fridge as he spoke. “You are going out the back door. Follow the tunnel and it’ll bring you out by the Dene Shelter. Head north and you should run into someone who’ll take you to Colonel Fury. Between you, Spider-Man, and Myers, he should have some kind of plan to deal with the Grim Reaper.”

“Yeah...and what the hell are you going to do?”

He spilled the plastic bags onto a workbench...four flat bags of red plasma. “I’m gonna refill and set a trap for Black Talon. Then I’ll follow you. Don’t try to argue with me, Schultz. You have to get to Fury, and I’m still thinking of ways to kill you.”

There’s motivation for you. “Alright, I’m going.” He was pulling rubbing tubing out of a black fabric bag, and I was heading for the rear door to the arsenal under the Arsenal, when I realized...I had to ask.

“Castle, the Grim Reaper offered me power and survival to work for him. What the hell did he offer you?”

The silence made me regret asking the question. I shrugged it off, and was opening the back door when the Punisher answered. “I had just pulled myself out of the Hudson when Reaper showed up. I was lying on the pavement, trying to catch my breath when he landed. Offered me a chance to work with him. Said he’d give me power, lots of it, so I could take out everyone. You. Osborn. Wittman. Mercer. Doom. Lehnsherr. Someone made a deal like that once. Wanted me to be their mystical hitman. Didn’t take that offer. Sure as hell not going to take Reaper’s. Close the door behind you, Schultz.”

Before I did, I saw the Punisher, having tied off his arm with rubber tubing, setting up an IV stand right next to the .50 caliber machine gun that was emplaced on the center workbench.

*****

So there I was. Central Park, at last. The back tunnel out of the Punisher’s storeroom had wound its way north, ending at a storm drain, with a tall ladder sunken into the wall. It took a bit of shoving to open the hatch at the top of the ladder before I climbed out into the open air.

The Dene was a long stretch of rolling hills abutting Fifth Avenue. Being slightly elevated, I could make out the top of the floodlights through the red-and-orange leaves that stubbornly clung to the branches. The moans were much more audible here in the Park, greeting me as soon as I climbed out of the sewer. Next to the tunnel, a tall stone outcropping, Kid’s Rock (no, not the singer) acted as a landmark. Just beyond that, sitting on top of a steep hill, Dene Shelter, a rustic wooden shelter, would have provided me with a great view of the army of living dead besieging the Park. But right now, that wasn’t what interested me. I turned to the north, immediately picking out the well-lit walkways and bike paths that wound through the Dene. The grass was dry as I worked my way down from the hill, intent on heading north, towards the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir, and hopefully Spider-Man and Boomerang...along with damn near everyone else who had crammed into this oasis in the middle of Manhattan. I could make out the huge lights that shone from tall towers down along the Reservoir, and could imagine throngs of panicked citizens huddled together, with the Avengers and countless supervillains working with SHIELD to keep order.

They must have been keeping everyone close, because I didn’t see a soul for about five minutes. After a couple of days of zombies, panicked civilians, warehouse co-habitators, and people trying to kill me, being all alone, my feet pounding the pavement with only the sounds of the living dead pressing at the barricades...well, it was a bit unnerving. Maybe this was what being the last man on Earth was like. Just me and the groans of zombies. The further I headed into the park, though, the quieter and less audible the moans became...which kind of made it worse, increasing my sense of loneliness even as the scraping on my ears went away.

I was leaving the Dene, passing Loeb Boathouse with Belvedere Castle looming in the distance, backlit by the powerful flood lights, when I saw them. Two figures, walking side-by-side, wearing NYPD uniforms with Kevlar vests over their chests. They both had on riot helmets, with sub-machine guns slung over their shoulders. They had just turned away from me, back towards the Reservoir, when I put my hands to my sides, pointing my gloves away from them. “Hey! Hey, officers!”

I can't believe I was actually calling out to police officers. I did my best to assume a non-threatening posture, keeping my gloves pointing towards the ground, as they both spun to face me. “Holy crap,” one of them blurted out, “it's the Shocker! It's the damn Shocker! I can't believe we got him!”

Pride was swelling in my chest as I nodded. “Yeah, it's me. I just didn't want to startle you guys,” I said as I started to lower my hands...

“Keep your damn hands up, Schultz!” The second cop suddenly had his sub-machine gun pointed at me, having unslung it and aimed it in one well-trained swoop. “Don't you move!”

My hands immediately shot back up into the air. “Whoa, whoa! What the hell...I come in peace!”

“You so much as twitch and you're gonna leave in pieces! Jones, call this one in.”

“On it.” Officer Jones pushed the button on his two-way radio as I kept my hands in the air. “Unit 342, calling Command, come in.”

“Go ahead, Unit 342.”

“We've got Subject Delta in custody, just north of the Dene. Request backup to bring him in.”

“Unit 342, copy. We're dispatching two units as backup. Treat subject as armed and dangerous.”

“Command, copy. Out.” Jones unslung his weapon as well, both cops now keeping be covered. I couldn't make out their facial expressions under their helmets, but from their body language, it wouldn't take much for the two of them to perforate me.

“Can someone explain...”

“Shut it, Schultz,” the nameless officer growled.

“Damn it, tell me what the hell's going...”

“I said, SHUT it, Schultz. We know what you're up to. And you're going down for it.”

“Listen to me, damn it, I do anything! I swear!”

Officer Jones, firmly gripping my shoulder, shoved me into the small room. “You just sit tight. Someone will be along to take care of you.”

“Damn it, listen to me! LISTEN TO ME!” The officer didn't even react to my plea as he turned to walk out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I heard the lock engage, and then the footsteps of the officer's footsteps as he walked away. Immediately, I was crouched next to the door, my fingers tracing the outline of the lock.

Within minutes of the officers calling in my apprehension, four NYPD cops and two SHIELD soldiers had shown up. Under the guns of that much firepower, I surrendered my vibro-smashers and my belt, including my lockpicks, before being marched towards the Reservoir, surrounded on all sides by the authorities. Not one of them would tell me what I had been accused of, and my questions had been answered with harsh glares. Oh, I knew those glares well. They were of the “if this was a dark alleyway, you wouldn't be walking out alive” variety, the looks that would make even the most hardened criminal respectful of the power of the badge. Moving quickly, they escorted towards the massive refugee camp in the center of Central Park. The tall tower lights shone down upon the camp which had been set up on the Great Lawn, beginning just before 79th Street. A long line of barricades, about four feet high, marked the lower boundary. As the guards escorted me through an entrance checkpoint at 79th and East Drive, I finally got my first look at the refugee camp that had been the focus of rescue activity and zombie eradication for the past week.

To say the camp was crowded was the understatement of the year. The first refugees I saw were huddled just beyond the barricades, giving the guards enough room to walk a patrol. A young girl, no older than the girl I had pulled from that apartment building, was clutching a teddy bear, while her father sat on the ground, holding her close and stroking her hair. Not three feet away, a group of Asians, varying in age, sat in a circle, talking quietly. Then, a young Hispanic man was stretched out on the ground, snoring quietly. All races, all creeds, all socio-economic levels...they were all crammed into this rescue station. Right here, this is what I wanted to avoid the second Osborn proclaimed his executive order a week ago. Don’t get me wrong, being surrounded by the NYPD, SHIELD, and member of the US Armed Forces ain’t anything to sneeze at. But the conditions...from what I could make out as I was whisked through, I saw outhouses set up in various areas, and there were medical pavilions scattered here and there, and the guards were keeping order. The government had learned from Hurricane Katrina and the Hulk’s rampage which had forced evacuation of New York City last summer. The camp was set up in an orderly fashion and aside from there being almost no elbow room, things didn’t look any worse than if a free concert was being held on the Great Lawn. My concern was this. No way out. If a horde of the undead suddenly busted through the barriers, the citizens had nowhere to run. Friendly fire was bound to happen. And, more importantly, there wasn’t a single superpowered being helping walk the line.

The eight officers escorting me closed ranks, blocking my view. They were packed around me so tight that anyone on the outside couldn’t have caught a glimpse of me. I wondered what they would of thought if they had seen me, the hero of the hour, being frog-marched like the common criminal I used to be.

The officers brought me to a temporary field holding facility, a double-wide trailer set up just on the edge of the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir. Six of them had taken up positions at the front door while Officer Jones, and a SHIELD soldier brought me to the interrogation. Ok. They had taken my lockpicks, but once upon I time, I could pick a lock without using anything but my ears and my bare hands. Besides, it was a government lock, designed and installed by the contractor putting in the lowest bid...

The door swung open before I could get started. I immediately jolted to my feet, taking in the blue-and-white SHIELD officer in front of me. “Look, listen...”

“Sit down,” the officer growled.

“Damn it, listen...”

“I said,” the officer replied, shoving me backwards, “sit down!”

“Look, will someone JUST listen to me, god damn it! I didn’t do anything!”

“I know that, you idiot! And if you were half as smart as everyone says you are, Schultz, you would have realized we planted that god damn story for your own protection! If you came waltzing up here by yourself, without armed guards, Osborn would have made sure you didn’t make it twenty feet before some cop on his payroll blew you away!” Colonel Nick Fury slammed the door shut behind him, stepping into the cell and jamming his finger at the chair. “Now sit down and start talking!” Nick Fury. World War II hero. SHIELD commander for damn near my entire life. And currently, chomping on a cigar and giving me more attitude with one eye than the Sinister Twelve could muster on their best day. “Where the hell are Spider-Man and Boomerang? I sent them out after you over an hour ago!”

“They should have been back by now! I don’t know where they are!”

“Well, then let’s talk about what you do know, Schultz.” Fury sat down on one of the chairs, and motioned for me to sit in the one on the other side of the table. “Let’s start with the Chameleon, and why he was impersonating you.”

“Colonel,” I said after taking my seat, “right now, that’s small potatoes. There’s something a lot bigger...”

“A helicopter sent to retrieve you and the Rhino from your warehouse comes back without the Rhino, with the Chameleon pretending to be you, and Norman Osborn telling me the Punisher killed Systevich.” Fury crossed his arms, glaring at me across the table. “If Norman Osborn’s involved, that’s the potatoes I’m interested in...”

Screw that. I wasn’t going to be the guy who knew what was going on that no one believed. “I know why the dead are coming back to life,” I blurted out, “and who’s behind it.”

Fury’s eyebrow went up a quarter of an inch at that statement. “Is it Norman Osborn?”

“No...kinda. It’s his fault in a roundabout way.”

He pursed his lips around his cigar. “Alright, Schultz. I’m in the mood for you to explain how you know what our scientists don’t. Humor me.”

“It’s the Grim Reaper. He’s working for some cosmic big wig, named Dormammu. And it’s all because the Reaper had a vision Norman Osborn was going to kill him.” That got me another quarter inch. I just started spilling everything, talking faster than I ever had in my life. From the rooftop attack that saw Rhino dead, to the helicopter ride with Osborn, Chameleon, and Trapster, to Electro and the Vulture, to my rescue at the hands of Boomerang and Spider-Man, and ending with my encounter with Black Talon and escape into Central Park.

“I know this sounds insane,” I concluded.

“You’re telling me,” Fury groused.

“But it’s true. All of it. Unless I’m dreaming, and right now, I kind of want to be.”

Fury was still giving me that look, but it had gotten less intense over the course of my tale. Keeping his eye on me, he tapped his communicator. “Starluck, I want you to take a team and check out the Dene. I’ve got good intel that the Punisher’s got a hideout down an access shaft near the Dene Shelter. If it’s true, let’s get him on our side. Don’t screw around, either, I want you back here as quickly as possible when we start the evac, with or without Frank Castle.”

“Moving at lightspeed, Colonel,” came Starluck’s voice over the device.

“Schultz, we’re walking.” Fury stood up, and I immediately followed him. The SHIELD guard outside the room saluted the Colonel as we headed outside. “Alright, so just to make absolutely sure I have this straight, this god, Dormammu, recruited the Grim Reaper to be his right-hand man because Williams had a vision Osborn was going to kill him. Reaper does what his boss tells him to, and by killing the Hood, the dead started coming back to life. And Osborn decides the best way to combat this is to use the citizens of New York City as bait to draw out the Reaper, but the Reaper’s got himself an army of mojo slingers along with the Vulture and Electro, and to top it all off, Black Talon regenerated his entire skull and Spider-Man and Boomerang are missing.”

We stepped outside into the night air as I nodded in agreement. “That’s about it.”

“You’re right, Schultz. It is insane. But it’s insane enough that Osborn’s involvement makes it plausible.” At the bottom of the small rise of steps leading up to the trailer, Fury barked out a name. “DANIELS!”

From the side, the female soldier who had escorted Nick Fury into the containment lab, live on national TV, trotted up to him, giving him a quick salute. “Sir!”

“Begin the evacuation procedures, Daniels. Get everyone to their places and get these civilians ready to move! I want people feet dry on Long Island within sixty seconds of Doctor Strange opening that portal!”

She didn’t even waste time acknowledging the order, instead barking into her communicator. “Dunkirk! All SHIELD, military, and civilian units, Dunkirk! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!”

Immediately, SHIELD sprung into action. Along with the NYPD officers I could make out, they began marching, not running, which could instill panic, but moving quickly. I heard orders being shouted through bullhorns and saw equipment being packed up as Fury walked quickly through everything. I had to double-time it to keep pace with the old war dog as he made his way through the chaos. “Colonel, where the hell are my guys? The guys from the warehouse? I haven’t seen one of them.”

“Gone,” Fury said without turning. “When Chameleon turned out to be masquerading as you, Osborn said it was proof that none of your buddies could be trusted, and ordered them all arrested.”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yeah, that was my reaction, without the high pitch. Something about how any of them could be a shape changer, like a Skrull. Which is utter horsehockey. When told me to go lock all your boys up and hold them, and I’m quoting, ‘until the crisis has passed,’ I gave them the option of getting the hell out of Dodge. And they all took it, every single villain we had on our side, from Aqueduct to Zemo. They all got the hell out of dodge.”

I almost came to a shocked halt, but when you’re following Nick Fury, he doesn’t allow you that kind of time. So it was more of a mobile indignance. “What the hell was Osborn thinking? Not only is he passing on a lot of firepower, but brainpower too! Damn it...I gave them my word! I gave them Captain America’s word, that they wouldn’t be arrested!” I brushed past two SHIELD soldiers running the opposite direction along the walkway. I didn’t even know where we were going, but when in doubt, follow the Colonel, who led the way with long strides. “There goes my street cred.”

“If it means a damn to you, Schultz, I think most of them blame Osborn more than they blame you.”
It did, somewhat. “Where the hell did they go?”

“We don’t know. They stepped into some black hyperspace portal Molecule Man whipped up and just vanished.”

“What about everyone else? The Fantastic Four, the Avengers?”

“Scattered. The Fantastic Four and Luke Cage are at the other end of the portal, and I got Hank Pym and Spider-Woman making one last sweep of the city. Rest of the Avengers are with Doctor Strange making sure nothing goes south.”

“So where the hell are we going, Colonel?”

“We’re going to confront Osborn,” he said without stopping. We had reached the edge of the reservoir now. The black waters lapped calmly against the stone edges, a gentle sound as opposed to the buzz of activity going on around us. “It’s simple, Schultz,” he told me as we turned and started to walk to the west. “Osborn’s always been a loon, but your story is the damn icing on the cake. Far as I’m concerned, I have enough evidence to make him resign his post and get someone sensible in there. He’s gotten unstable the past twenty-four hours, and if all the work and danger SHIELD’s put itself into has been just so he can engineer a showdown with the Grim Reaper, I’m gonna accept his resignation, and then punch him in the damn teeth.”

*****

The two SHIELD soldiers at the final checkpoint snapped to attention and saluted the Colonel as we approached. “As you were,” he snapped as we passed between them. The checkpoint was a massive structure, the last point of authority before entering the high security checkpoint on the northwest quadrant of the Great Lawn. As opposed to the huddles masses of civilians elsewhere on the Lawn, this area was clear of anyone not in the employ of SHIELD. As we entered, soldiers were pounding stakes into the ground, using them to string guiding ropes.

“Doctor Strange is opening the portal to Long Island at 85th Street and the Traverse,” Fury informed me as we headed towards the intersection. “Something about a crossroads being the perfect juncture for magic or some crap. Osborn is there supervising the efforts, which amounts to staying out of the way as Strange sets up the ritual.”

“Right...so what the hell do we do once we get there? Just walk right up and confront Osborn?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Yeah. Walk right up and punch him.”

“Ain’t gonna fly. Osborn ain’t the only one watching Strange. There are a couple of Avengers there, and since Osborn’s still in charge, they’re watching his back. And Osborn’s got your buddy Petruski as his bodyguard. You throw one punch and it’s only a matter of who shoots you first, Iron Man or the Trapster.”

If Fury was asking me to stay calm and cool, he had another thing coming. Ever since this whole mess started, it felt like control of my life was almost an illusion that more things happened TO me than BECAUSE of me. ‘Herman Schultz, the wrong man in the wrong places at wrong times’ would be a great tagline to a movie made about the past week. Each step I took just made my anger boil over a little bit more. Without my life wasn’t being threatened, all I had really thought about since Fury and I had left that interrogation room was revenge. Revenge for trying to kill me. Revenge killing Aleksei. And on some level, revenge for turning Central Park into one big chum basket for the undead. Though maybe that one was just to provide another rationalization. Rationalizations make the world go around. Personally, I believe rationalizations are more important to humanity then sex. Don’t believe me? Ask yourself this. When was the last time you went more than a week without making a rationalization?

The intersection of 85th Street and the Traverse wasn’t barricaded or sealed off like the rest of the park. But it didn’t need to be. The glowing, humming green circle hanging in mid-air, perpendicular to the ground, was security enough just by the “this is magic, DO NOT APPROACH” vibe. So, of course, Fury and I headed right for the circle. It was maybe fifteen feet in circumference, with an eerie green glow being emitted from the center. Golden runes hung in the air around it, pulsing slightly with the rising and falling hum. Think a Stargate from that Kurt Russell movie and you’re dead on the money.

We could make out the figures standing around the circle as we approached. I’d mentioned before, way back in this tale, how sometimes, you couldn’t help but be in awe of the heroes you meet, run in to, or interact with. Even if they’re kicking your ass at the time, you can’t help but respect or be impressed by their sheer presence. Right now, Fury was leading me into the heart of heroism, some of the greatest heroes on the face of the planet standing by, watching the way out from Central Park being formed in front of them. Heroes...and the man who tried to kill me, along with the former friend who had betrayed me to him.

In front of the soon-to-be-portal, waving his hands in the same sort of intricate pattern that Black Talon had utilized, stood the Sorcerer Supreme. Among the criminal community, his name was whispered, usually brought up in awe or reverence. You may or may not put much stock in magic and sorcery, but anyone who crossed paths with Doctor Strange came away with an understanding of the sheer power that the man commanded. The energy from the portal billowed the long cape he wore, and even though he wasn’t speaking in a loud voice, you could decipher, just at the edge of your hearing, the chanting as he wove his spell.

I’ve already spoken about Captain America. He stood about thirty feet away from the portal, standing tall, almost at parade rest. His shield hung on his shoulders, his hands clasped behind the small of his back, watching the proceedings. And how many times have I mentioned Ms. Marvel, who stood, arms crossed across her chest, rocking that black-and-yellow spandex in late October? And, of course, the mighty Thor. Can’t forget him.

Two other Avengers were nearby, observing Strange’s ritual. A metal figure, yellow-and-re, and a muscular figure in red-and-black, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Iron Man, the leader of the Avengers. Simon Williams, also known as Wonder Man, Hollywood stunt man and the Grim Reaper’s older brother. And next to Iron Man, head cocked to the side, rocking the three-piece suit, Norman Osborn stood tall, looking like he belonged with the proverbial gods. Behind him, keeping a nervous eye on the Avengers, the Trapster craned his neck.

“Now, remember Schultz,” Fury told me as we made the final approach, “this is all about confronting Osborn. As much as you hate him, and have every right, you can’t kill him. You can’t hurt him. You can’t TOUCH him.”

“Got it,” I said tightly.

“I’m dead serious. He’s still in charge. He’s got the Avengers on his side. Right now, he’s the damn hero of the hour if Strange pulls this off.”

“I know...”

“Schultz. Your word. Give me your word, right now, that you’re not going to touch Osborn. No punches, no kicks, and no blasts.”

“I promise, Colonel. I’m not going to lay a finger on Osborn, up close and personal or from a distance.” And yeah, I meant it. Fury had a damn good point. Punching Osborn would have made me feel a LOT better. And at the edges of my rational mind, the thought of doing something much, much worse teased me. But there was something much more important at stake this time out. I just had to keep telling myself that with every step I took.

It was Ms. Marvel who noticed us first. She half-turned her head, noticing Colonel Fury...but did a double-take when she was my quilted form walking with him. “Shocker?”

And now, we had everyone’s attention. They all turned to face us. The Avengers were staring at me, and I was walking right towards them. It was Osborn who looked the most non-plussed at my arrival. “Colonel Fury,” Osborn said, the first one to speak as we finally arrived within the group, “why are you bringing this crim...”

I kept my word. I didn’t lay a hand on Osborn.

However, I’m sure my punch broke the Trapster’s jaw.

I fired a level-one just as I slammed my fist into his face. The poor bastard had looked so stunned to see me alive, he couldn’t even get his hands up in time. I felt the impact through my armor, following through with my attack, driving with my shoulder, just like Aleksei had taught me. As I recovered, I could see Trapster almost complete a pirouette as he fell to the ground, spinning on one foot and landing on his side.

Almost immediately, I felt two pairs of hands grab my arms, before I could even enjoy the satisfaction of decking the bastard. Ms. Marvel and Wonder Man pulled me backwards, away from where Trapster was moaning on the ground, holding his chin with both hands. “Damn it, Schultz,” Fury said with...well, fury in his quiet tone.

“I never said anything about Petruski.” I tried to pull my arms away from the two Avengers, but they both held me tight, Wonder Man hurting me with his grip on my bicep.

“Colonel,” Norman Osborn replied, not even glancing at Trapster as he was getting back to his feet, “I want that man arrested for assaulting an OsCorp employee.”

Fury’s response was to simply shift the cigar from one end of his mouth to the other. Osborn sighed as his bodyguard, bleeding from a split lip and bit tongue, tried to stand up straight next to him. “Fine. Well, then, Shocker, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company? You are aware you’re crashing this party at a critical juncture. Doctor Strange is moments away from opening a gateway to transport the civilians here in Central Park to safety, and yet you show up and almost disrupt the proceedings with violence.”

“You killed Aleksei, you...” I began, pulling at the two Avengers holding me.

“Osborn,” Fury said, cutting me off sharply, “I had a very interesting chat with Schultz here. He’s got a couple of things he’d like to say about what happened to the Rhino on that rooftop, and on the helicopter ride afterwards.”

“Really,” Osborn replied in a dismissive tone. “We really don’t have time for bedtime stories, Colonel. Besides, Schultz is a known criminal...and for all I know, he’s an imposter, just like the Chameleon earlier this evening. Anything this copy says is suspect at best. If you want to interrogate him, there’s a trailer for that, isn’t there?”

“There’s more. I know...”

“Schultz.” Fury simply shifted his one-eye to glare at me, and I got really quiet really fast. This was his turf, not mine. “Osborn, I think everyone here needs to listen to what Schultz has to say.”

“Please.” Osborn turned away, facing the glowing green circle again. “This is a waste of...”

“Hold up.”

All eyes turned now to Captain America. The man who had picked up the legendary mantle and carried it with pride stepped forward, away from the group, towards me. “If Colonel Fury says we should listen to Schultz, than we should consider it.” Osborn scoffed behind him as the blue-and-white Avenger studied me. I stiffened my spine, trying to stand upright. “But one question. How do we know this is the real Herman Schultz? That is a valid question...”

“The rooftop.” I didn’t think, just spoke. “We shook hands, and I acted like a little kid meeting Derek Jeter. It was you and Abner...MACH-IV...and you gave me your word that my friends, the bad guys, wouldn’t face charges if they showed up here in Central Park. You even got Colonel Fury to put it in writing.”

A nod from Captain America. “That’s true.” He turned back to look at his fellow Avengers. “We should listen to him, Iron Man.”

“Oh, come on,” Osborn said to no one in particular.

With the whir of electronic gyros, Iron Man stepped forward to stand next to me. He gave a nod to Ms. Marvel and Wonder Man. The two of them let go of me. I rubbed my arms as the armored warrior nicknamed ‘Shellhead’ faced me. “Alright, Herman,” a robotic voice said. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

I looked over at Colonel Fury, who nodded. “Just what you told me, Schultz. Leave nothing out.”

I had to do it. I turned to look at Wonder Man, standing off to my right. “I know who’s behind everything. I’m sorry, Simon...it’s your brother, Eric. It’s all his fault.”

I didn’t expect his reaction. Anger, depression, surprise...no, it was a resigned sigh from the big man, who looked at me with red eyes...not red like the pools of blood I had seen in others, but glowing softly from deep within his pupils. “No surprise. No one had seen him this past week, and zombies are part of his MO. Damn it...”

“Please. Zombies on a massive scale are well beyond the Grim Reaper’s reach,” Osborn scoffed.

I did my best to ignore Osborn. Hell, he wanted to know and draw out who was behind this. Careful what you wish for, Norman. “Well, the Reaper got an upgrade, Norman. He’s got back up. Some guy named Dormammu.”

THAT got a reaction from the Avengers. Thor stepped forward now, pushing past Iron Man. “Herman, are thou sure of that name?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me, Thor...I met the guy. After Osborn killed Aleksei and dumped me on the Lower East Side to die, I got picked up by some of the Reaper’s crew and brought to St Patrick’s Cathedral. Dormammu apparently gave Reaper the mojo to pull this trick off, and the Reaper just ran with it...”

“Shouldn’t we be telling Strange this,” Fury interjected. “He’s gonna want to hear all about this guy.”

“Strange told us not to interrupt him,” Osborn replied. “And there will be plenty of time for lies and fabrication once the portal is open. That is our main goal right now. Once the civilians are safe, then we can hold this discussion.”

“Hold on.” This was Ms. Marvel, who was staring at Osborn with one eyebrow raised. “Schultz said you killed the Rhino. You have anything to say about that?”

“The Punisher killed him. I stand by my statement.”

“Well, when my team brings Castle in, we’ll just compare statements and see who’s telling the truth,” Fury countered. “They’re on their way to grab him now.”

“Huh. And who will you believe, Avengers, me, a fine upstanding citizen, or a crazed vigilante?” Osborn didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning to the Trapster. “Wipe your mouth. You’re bleeding.”

“We’re missing the point. Herman,” Wonder Man said, “go back to the Grim Reaper. What’s his involvement in all of this?”

I eyed Osborn as I laid out what the Grim Reaper had told me. “Apparently, Dormammu showed Reaper a vision of someone on Osborn’s payroll shanking him in prison, and then Osborn going on to destroy the planet. Reaper decided to work for him and destroy the planet the way his boss wants him to, before Osborn can pull it off. He gathered a whole bunch of magic users to work for him...like Baron Mordo.” Wonder Man nodded at the name as I continued. “And he’s got a couple of other guys, like the Vulture and Electro on his payroll. They captured me and had Electro torture me, but Spider-Man and Boomerang rescued me. Not before I heard, though, that Mordo got his hands on something called the Darkhold that was the final piece of the puzzle. Oh...and they also rescued the Punisher, who had been captured before I was.”

“I sent Boomerang and Spider-Man out to rescue Schultz once we found out the Chameleon was impersonating him,” Fury added, “but neither of them are back yet. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Norman?”

“Hardly. I’ve been here making sure this plan goes through, Fury. Now, if you’re done trying to pin anything onto me...”

“He killed Aleksei.” I pointed a finger at him, causing Wonder Man and Ms. Marvel to tense up in case I attacked him. “The Trapster, Osborn, and Chameleon landed on my rooftop after Aleksei and I missed the last Quinjet out. Osborn used a shaped charge to blow a hole in Aleksei’s rhino suit and the Trapster paralyzed me and dumped me on the street to die. This whole thing, this whole plan to move people into Central Park, was Osborn’s attempt to centralize power and draw the guy behind all of this out...and the Grim Reaper’s out there, putting his plan into motion.”

Silence once I finished. After a few seconds, it was Iron Man who broke up. “Schultz, that’s an incredible story. But...it’s just your word. Cap believes you, and Fury believes you...”

“As do I,” Thor added.

“Me too,” said Ms. Marvel.

“...but we need proof.”

“...I got nothing,” I admitted to Iron Man. “I got nothing but my word.”

“Which, as we all know from the past, is worthless.” Osborn waved a hand in my direction. “You’re nothing more than a common thug who decided to do the right thing for once, Schultz. That doesn’t clean the slate of all the crimes you committed, Herman. One day as a lion does not balance out a lifetime as a jackal.”

Under my mask, I raised an eyebrow. Oh, thank you for hubris. “You’re right, Norman. Absolutely right. All the good things I’ve done don’t matter a lick compared to the bad. You’re the expert on that topic, aren’t you, Green Goblin?”

If it wasn’t for the persistent hum, you could have heard a pin drop. I think Ms. Marvel let out a low whistle at the comment. Osborn...I had him. His lip quivered, just for a second. And I drove it home.

“You’ve committed murder, acts of terrorism, property damage, embezzlement, and who knows what else? So we shouldn’t pay one bit of attention to all your good works. Hell, someone here should be making a citizen’s arrest, just in case all of this is part of some grand master plan. You know all about grand master plans, don’t you? World ending plans?”

Osborn’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me. That would have scared me once. This bastard killed my best friend in front of me while I was helpless.

I shouldn’t be scared of him.

Norman Osborn should be scared of ME.

“Schultz, all you’ve done is run around, save a few citizens, and rally the forces of evil to do something positive for once with their lives. I’ve run the ENTIRE United States government when the Secretary of Homeland Security and the Vice President got eaten and the current President managed this crisis and was found wanting. I’ve directed the Initiative. I’ve rescued the population of New York City, as soon as that portal opens. I’m going to save what’s left of America. I’ve taken government resources and done the impossible. You just got lucky. Once the citizens have been evacuated to Long Island, I will command Nick Fury and the Avengers, along with Doctor Strange, to look into the possibility that the Grim Reaper and this Dormammu are responsible for this epidemic. Until then, Colonel Fury, under the authority invested in me as a law-enforcement authority, I demand you arrest Herman Schultz and hold him in custody until such time as this current crisis can pass.”

Osborn smirked at me, and Trapster did his best to smile through a broken jaw, as Fury studied me. “You know, Osborn,” the Colonel said as he pulled the burned-to-the-stub cigar out of his mouth, “I left my badge in my other uniform. Try asking one of the Avengers.”

Captain America gave a half-hearted shrug towards the former CEO. “Mr. Osborn, the Avengers are not authorized to make direct arrests, and I don’t think we can spare any NYPD members with Operation Dunkirk currently underway.”

Knowing Captain America had my back made my balls a little brassier. “Hey, Peter, tell you what,” I told the Trapster. “You can arrest me if you got the stones.”

“No one’s arresting anyone,” Fury said. “We’re going to get this people out of here. That’s priority number one. Priority number two is going to be trying to track down the Grim Reaper. As soon as I can spare some people, that’s what SHIELD’s going to be doing. Schultz,” he snapped at me, “you don’t leave my side. If you have to take a leak, I’m...”

“Gentlemen and lady.”

The smooth, confident voice cut off Colonel Fury’s comment. Thankfully. Doctor Strange floated in the air before us, six inches off of the ground. Behind him, the green portal was swirling, tendrils moving in a counterclockwise manner like those of a hurricane. “The ritual is nearly complete. Begin moving the civilians up, Colonel. By the time they arrive, the portal should connect Central Park and Long Island.”

“Fantastic. Great work, Doctor. How long will the actual trip through the portal take?”

“It will be instantaneous. The trip through will take no time at all. Please make sure your

SHIELD teams at the other end are ready to receive the civilians.”

“Got it.” “Ms. Marvel, you’re in charge of making sure nothing happens to Schultz. If he takes a leak...”

“I got it,” she said, stepping up beside me. I took one look at the figure standing next me, and felt very reassured. Ms. Marvel actually flashed me a weary grin as I glanced at her. “Always ending up in the center of things, Schultz.”

“Yeah. Anonymity has its charms,” I quipped back, to a small chuckle. Damn, she had a nice smile.

“Alright, get everyone moving!” Fury turned away, and began to toss out orders into his communication device. ”Single file through the checkpoint, four abreast! No pushing, no talk back. Daniels, inform our units on Long Island that they’re going to be getting the first group of civilians in a matter of minutes, and to NOT let the exit portal get jammed up like the Lincoln Tunnel during rush hour”

“And Herman.”

I turned to face Doctor Strange as he spoke to me. “I heard the name you mentioned a few minutes ago. Not many mortals can stare into his face and come away with their sanity intact. Find strength in that. After the civilians have been moved through, you and I will have to talk. Be ready.”

“Looking forward to it,” I joked. The Sorcerer Supreme nodded to me, and floated back over to the portal. I looked over my shoulder. Behind a glaring Petruski, the SHIELD soldiers were beginning to wave everyone between the guiding lines. I heard them calling out orders, telling the civilians to follow them. The citizens walked calmly, it looked like. No panic, no concern, no rush. SHIELD was here, and they had everything under control. This was going to go smoothly, right? “Come on, universe,” I muttered under my breath, “cut humanity a break here.”

“BY THE POWERS GIVEN TO ME BY THE GREAT MYSTERIES, I OPEN THIS PORTAL! BY HOGGATH, BY OSHTUR, BY CYTTORAK, AND BY THE OCTESSENCE, I STRENGTHEN THIS PORTAL! BY AGAMOTTO, I GIVE ACCESS TO THIS PORTAL TO THOSE IN DIRE NEED!”

His voice boomed across the Great Lawn. Doctor Strange was at least six feet off the ground, his arms at his sides, as the green portal suddenly flared up. Bright light shot across the area, and the runes along the side pulsed with a golden glow.

“It is...”

The runes suddenly lost their light. One moment, they shone with power, and the next, they hung in air, devoid of illumination. The portal, as we watched, churned like a whirlpool being stood on its edge. The bright, welcoming green glow became a dull red storm, turning in and over itself. As the waves crashed down within the mystical opening, the redness darkened, becoming the color of blood. I knew that color. I knew those motions. It was the same thing I had seen in the eyes of the Hulk while I was getting the tar beaten out of me. What floated in front of us was the mark of the beast, the ID card for the Grim Reaper’s crew.

“No...” Doctor Strange whispered, before his hands came up, already weaving some kind of spell. “The portal isn’t outward bound! It’s a way in...”

Like a shark leaping from the water, a giant black hand burst from the portal. Before any of us could react, it had wrapped its fingers around Doctor Strange, pinning his arms to his side. Squeezing him tight, the hand yanked him forward. Yelling in pain and surprise, the Sorcerer Supreme passed through the red portal, the energy rippling like water from his passage.

“Oh,” I heard Wonder Man say from beside me, “that is NOT good.”

“All units, Colonel Fury, halt Dunkirk, halt Dunkirk! Someone explain to me what the hell just happened!”

“I believe, Colonel, that Doctor Strange’s attempt to open an egress from New York City has instead created a way in.” Thor hefted Mjolnir in one hand. “Something wicked this way comes. I can feel it.”

“Great. Just great.” Fury opened his communicator again. “I need Alpha Units to the Portal Site, I repeat, all Alpha Units! All other units, stand your ground and keep the situation under control.”

“I guess you’re about to get your wish, Osborn,” I said in a quiet voice. The industrialist turned to me, curiosity on his face. “It’s like you said. You set the bait, and the guy behind all of this is about to walk into your trap. I just hope you’re up for the damn task.”

He gave a quiet chuckle, pride in his laughter. “Herman, I didn’t come this far to fail,” he replied. “But do not get in my way. If you get hit by friendly fire, it’s your own fault, not mine.”

“Something’s coming.” Ms. Marvel had stepped away from me, letting Osborn speak without her hearing us. Her fists were clenched, eyes focused on the portal. Quietly, Captain America unslung his shield from his shoulders, putting it on his arm with practiced ease. I could see Wonder Man flanking Ms. Marvel, and heard the quiet whine of capacitors powering up in Iron Man’s armor.

Hell, when in Rome. I stepped forward as well, coming up beside Thor, who stood stoically, Mjolnir gripped tightly. I raised my vibro-smashers, thumbs on the triggers, aiming them at the portal.

“You stand with us then, Herman,” Thor asked me in a low voice,

My stomach couldn’t sink any lower in my body. My hands were shaking underneath my gloves. My throat was parched. I hadn’t had a drink since St. Patrick’s. I really need to pee. I wanted to be anywhere else than right here, staring into the red portal.

“Yeah, Thor. I’m standing my ground.”

“Good. Then the Avengers stand with you as well on this day.”

Hearing the God of Thunder had my back helped. Don’t get me wrong, I was expecting another God to come walking out of that portal, but...hey, I had my ass kicked by the Hulk and walked away. Maybe...just maybe...

The energy in the portal parted, and he stepped out. Striding forward a few steps, the Grim Reaper tapped his scythe on the ground as he grinned as the gathered Avengers. “Ah,” he said in a mocking tone. “It’s so nice to be in Central Park this time of year. Hello, New York City!” He threw his arms up to the Avengers like he was greeting an imaginary crowd. “It’s so great to be here! Welcome, everyone...to the end of the world.”


******

“Eric...”

Wonder Man stepped forward, standing between our group and the Grim Reaper. His fists were balled, his body tense, his voice angry. But it was like a parent being angry with their child. “Eric, what did you do?”

“Simon. I’m so glad you’re the one to greet me. It’s been way to...” Eric took a stepped forward towards his brother, when a loud whine filled the air, cutting Reaper off in mid-sentence.

“One more step, and I’ll put a hole in your head.” Fury adopted the shooter’s stance, both hands gripping his plasma pistol. “Hands behind your head, Williams, and get down on the ground.”

Reaper’s response was a sigh. “Really, Colonel? You’re going to arrest me? I don’t think so.” Suddenly, Reaper’s scythe whipped around. Dark purple energy shot from the tip of his weapon, streaking through the air. It slammed into Fury’s hands, causing him to drop his pistol and curse loudly.

Even as the pistol fell through the air, Reaper turned on his heels. His scythe came between Ms. Marvel’s photonic blast, my twin level-two blasts, and Iron Man’s repulsor beam, absorbing the energy attacks with ease. The energy dissipated along the length of his scythe, harmless, as Eric turned back to face his brother. “As I was saying, it’s been way too long, Simon, since we’ve seen each other. I’m very pleased that we’ll have this final face-to-face meeting. I want to remember your face when you realize time’s run out.”

“The world world’s dying, and the Shocker’s telling us it’s all your fault!”

“Oh? He managed to make it here?” Reaper turned his gaze from Wonder Man for a second, smirking in my direction. “I’m impressed, Her...”

*WHAM!*

Reaper’s head rocked to the side as Wonder Man punched him across his jaw. “Damn it, Eric! WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Slowly, Reaper turned his head to face his brother. “Fine. Yes, Simon. I brought all this about. I’m the conduit, the key, the reason for the season, whatever you want to call it. My master called, and I obeyed. And you don’t even need to ask why. I’ll point that reason out to you.” The scythe raised again, the Reaper pointing his weapon as Norman Osborn, still standing calmly next to a wide-eyed Trapster. “Hello, Norman.”

“Reaper,” Osborn said with a slight incline of his head. “I suppose it’s too late for negotiations?”

“Much too late. My boss has already made all the bargains and deals he needs to. Everything is in motion, and...”

“ENOUGH!”

Thor’s voice echoed into the distance as he leveled his massive hammer at the Grim Reaper. “The time for words is over. Eric Williams, thou are responsible for crimes against humanity, by thou own admission. In the past, thou have slipped away from our grasp time and time again. Not now. Not again. Tonight, you face your final judgment. The Son of Odin swears thus!”

“Are you sure?” Reaper spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire group. “I’m here to tell you everything. All of my plans, the reason behind everything! I think it’s only fair that, before you die, you know the truth. Doesn’t that interest you?”

“No. It doesn’t,” Iron Man answered. “You’re just another megalomaniac who’s managed to be a successful pawn in the grand scheme of a powerful being. You’re not the one we’re after now, Reaper. We’re after your boss. As far as I’m concerned, all you’ve earned from us is a thrashing. We’re the Avengers. We’ve beaten gods. You’re just a speed bump.”

“Right now, Iron Man, my boss is thrashing the only line of defense you have against him. Once Strange has been beaten, Dormammu’s going to come right through that portal and end every life still burning in New York City. After that, oh, London, Paris, Seoul, and everywhere else that’s still holding out. See, this isn’t a speed bump, Shellhead.” Reaper’s grin stretched across his face now, his chest beginning to swell with pride. “I’m not the same Grim Reaper you’ve fought before. That man is gone. I’m much, much more. Godlike power runs through my blood. I’m not just Death, Avengers. I’m your downfall.”

“Better than you have tried, Reaper. And none have succeeded,” Captain America proclaimed. “Where you bring darkness, we shine the light. Where you proclaim death holds sway, we hold life most dear. But mainly, Reaper...you’re a slave. A slave to Dormammu and his wish to control this planet by any means necessary. And as Iron Man said, the Avengers have triumphed over tougher odds, and we will again.”

“And I’ll put SHIELD up against you and some tin-pot deity any day of the damn week,” Colonel Nick Fury added between gritted teeth.

“Hmm...and what say you, Osborn? Where is your...” Reaper stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he stared in Osborn’s direction. “Where...where is he?”

Norman Osborn and the Trapster had vanished. Neither of them was visible as I slowly craned my neck to look behind us. SHIELD officers were keeping back the first throngs of civilians, who had expected to be safe on Long Island by now. But between them and us was nothing but empty lawn.

“No...no! No! Osborn! Where are you!”

“Forget about him, Eric.” Wonder Man’s voice was cold, no emotion, no pity. “This ends now. You end now.”

“No! I did not come all this way to let the man who murdered me escape! Once I have my revenge upon you Avengers, I’ll hunt Osborn down and hand him over to Dormammu myself! BARONS! TO ME!”

The portal rippled again. First stepped a long-haired brunette, wearing a two-piece bronze set of armor that looked like a stripper’s outfit, blood dripping from a deep vertical cut on her left wrist. She was followed by a black-haired man in a blue outfit, with an aura of flames surrounding the back of his head, like a football player’s backboard. Behind him came a grinning Black Talon, his head completely reformed and unmarked, coming out side-by-side Oriental man with a large cut across his throat and a skin-tight black outfit with gray wrappings. As the four of them lined up behind the Grim Reaper, something flew out from the top of the portal. I caught a glimpse of silver wings and green metal passing overhead, before the final figure stepped from the portal. He passed through the four previous passengers to stand next to the Grim Reaper. Electricity crackled around his body, more than I had ever seen him handle at one time.

“Well, ain’t this a party, Herman,” Electro snarked, staring right at me from behind red eyes intertwined with lightning. “Who would have thought a schlub like you and a schlub like would be standing next to the Avengers and the man who killed the world? Power to the freakin’ people.”

“The time has come to start the final cleansing.” Reaper’s scythe pointed directly at his brother, Wonder Man, who responded by cracking his knuckles in his hands. “And the first to fall will be Earth’s mightiest heroes! FOR DORMAMMU!”

“FOR DORMAMMU,” they chanted behind him. “FOR DORMAMMU! FOR DORMAMMU! FOR DORMAMMU!”

Captain America lifted his shield into the air. He belted out that famous cry, the one that, for years, told the good guys help was on the way and informed the bad guys that they were completely screwed.

“AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

Well, I wasn’t going to be left out. But, when you’re standing next to a guy yelling “Avengers Assemble” in a non-ironic manner, well...you end up with the following.

“Hey, Reaper, listen up! You see this?” I lifted my vibro-smasher into the air. “This...is my BOOMFIST!”

FWOOSH!

And so began the end of the whole mess.

Reaper spun, easily catching my blast on his scythe. Which left him wide open, as Captain America’s thrown shield caught him square in the chest.

“Pair up,” Captain American yelled as he plucked the returning shield out of mid-air. “And don’t hold back! Fury, get those civilians back!”

“Don’t worry,” Fury said as he scrambled to pick his plasma pistol back up from where he had dropped it, “my soldiers are already...OW!”

Faster than I would have thought, the older Oriental man stood over Fury, his foot grinding the Colonel’s hand and the plasma pistol into the ground. “Firearms,” the man said, his voice gurgling from the rush of air through the wide cut on his neck. “How impersonal.”

Even as I fired a blast at the Oriental man, he was dodging, just getting out of the way. “I’m all for impersonal, pal. I don’t even know your name.”

My next blast, the man just waved his hand, and the vibrating air disappeared right before his palm. “Then allow me to introduce myself, Shocker. My name is Chondu. Chondu the Mystic, at your servi...”

“No names, pal.” Fury shoved the plasma pistol into Chondu’s stomach. The resulting blast of blue energy erupted out of Chondu’s lower back, causing him to cry out in pain. My level-two caught him in the face, smacking it to the side, but instantly, he whipped it back around, his red eyes filled with cold anger. A high knee drove Fury back to the ground. Not even looking at the fallen SHIELD commander, Chondu’s hands whipped around, one hand tucked to his chest, the other face me, palm out.

“As I was saying, Chondu the Mystic, at your service. How would you like to reach the next cycle today? Chi strike, or direct removal of your heart?”

Great. Martial artist. You never know what you were going to get when you went up against one of these guys. Normally, anyone who busted out a kung-fu pose either had watched way too much “Walker, Texas Ranger.” Sometimes, you got a guy who was trained at one of those strip mall dojos you see advertised before the movie starts. And, rarely, you get a guy like Batroc the Leaper or Mister X, who can wipe the floor with an entire bar without breaking a sweat.

Worst of all, you snag yourself a genuine “Thirty-Seven Chambers” Buddhist who knows the secrets of moving mountains without lifting a finger. With a name like Chondu the Mystic, I was probably fighting a guy who could kill me just by blinking his eye in the general direction of my pancreas.

So, instead of answering his question, I fired a wide spread of vibro-blasts, shimmering the space between us. Chondu waved his palm again, from left to right, and just as with my initial attack, the vibrating air simply disappeared. But, by doing so, the bastard just left his left side open, and I snapped off a level-one that caught him in the side. Off-balance, Chondu couldn’t defend himself from a level-two that slammed into his ribs. My third shot, however, he managed to pull the old “pluck a vibration from mid-air” trick, immediately striking the kung-fu pose again. “Interesting,” he said as I kept my fists up. “Your gloves allow you to palm strike from a distance. It’s a shame you don’t put any of yourself into your attacks.”

“Pal, I built these things myself. It’s like the blind ninja who carves out his own sword...or something. I gotta ask, though...the slit throat. What’s up with that?”

Chondu smiled, causing the wound on his neck to open as the muscles stretched. “When Dormammu called, I answered the best way I knew how, by attempting to ascend to the next stage of existence. But my efforts were premature. I was brought back in this shell of a body, but Dormammu has seen fit to bless me with his gifts. When I finally ascend, I’ll be one step closer to perfection.”

“Great. Let me help you along your path, Buddha.”

This time, Chondu simply ducked underneath my blasts, closing the distance between us before I could react. The contact plates in my chest deflected most of his blow, but I found myself flat on my back, his foot grinding into my sternum. “Too easy,” Chondu said as he towered over me. It felt like he was trying to shove his foot through my ribcage. “Electro told me you were a threat of some sort, Shocker.”

“Yeah...” I managed to gasp out as my hands tried to shove his foot away. “You probably should have listened a little bit closer to that dim bulb.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Because he’d tell you the last thing in the world you’d want to do with me. Don’t let me have a free shot as your balls.” I whipped my hand away from his ankle as the level-three fired. At this range, I didn’t even have to aim. The blast slammed him away from me, knocking him backwards. I don’t care if you’re a proto-zombie/mystical-undead creature. The pain Chondu felt upon landing didn’t compare to the agony in his testicles. He rolled on the ground, holding himself.

“That ain’t quite fair, Shocker,” I heard Fury say as he got to his feet behind me. “Kicking a man in the balls.”

“Fair? Where the hell is written I have to fight fair, Colonel?”

Chondu was slow to get back to his feet at Fury took aim. “Don’t even...” he warned the

Mystic. When Chondu didn’t stop, Fury just sighed, and let loose with a flurry of plasma blasts from his pistol. The plasma ripped through Chondu’s body...and didn’t bother him one bit as the martial artist got back to his feet. Even as the energy tore holes in Chondu, the wounds knitted right back up, flesh reforming and folding over itself.

“Damn it,” Fury said as the gaping hole in Chondu’s thigh closed back up, an invisible surgeon stitching the wound closed, “I liked it better when we could actually use firearms against zombies.”

“I’m not a zombie, Colonel.” Chondu looked down as the final hole in his body sealed itself back up, sounding like an old man slurping soup as the flesh pulled back together. “I’m a little more enlightened than that. Come. I’ll be happy to show you.” He whipped his head around, adopting the martial artist stance once again for a moment, before throwing himself through the air as Fury, his foot leading the way...

Fury’s hand snapped around Chondu’s ankle, and the martial artist found himself flung to the ground by the old war dog. “Chondu,” Fury said as Chondu looked up with anger on his face, “I’ve fought better martial artists than you while hung over. I might not be able to blow holes in your body, but I’ll be happy to see if broken bones heal like burned skin.”

“So be it, Colonel.” Without using his hands, Chondu kipped up to his feet, landing with perfect grace. “Even a barbarian like you is spoken in whispers among the dark corners..."

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a living God damn legend.” Fury threw himself at Chondu, the Mystic barely avoiding the jab. They squared off, Fury’s hands loose in front of him, Chondu in a fighting stance.

I raised my gloves, intent on blasting Chondu to give Fury an initial advantage, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Looks like you lost your dance partner, Herman,” a crackling voice said. “Mind if I cut in?”

Spinning around, a level-three smashed Electro right into the face. I pushed away from him, two more blasts leaving my gloves. Electro greeted the attacks with laughter as I quickly put distance between me and him. Bolts of lightning slithered around him like a school of eels, and even small arcs of electricity leapt to and fro in the streams of blood weeping from the gunshot wounds in his chest. “Last time, Herman, I sucked all the juice out of your gloves...I think this time, I’ll let you keep it. It’s so much better when you hand over all your power willingly...although tearing it from you without you being able to do anything about it has its perks...”

Blink.

I lowered my gloves, shaking my head at what I had just heard. “Ok, Max? I know you’re walking on air right now and think you’re commanding awe-inspiring power...but man, that was just REALLY freakin’ gay, what you just said.”

Electro, lightning dancing in his fist, cocked his head to the side. “What? What did you say?”

“Look, I don’t have a problem with that. I’m cool if that’s the way you swing, Max, but I’m asking as a former friend...just knock that stuff off. It’s creeping me the hell out. You want to try and kick my ass, just go ahead and kick it. Save the innuendo.”

After a second of thought, Electro barked a short, crackling laugh. “Well. It looks like I finally rattled that cool, calm exterior you’ve tried so hard to create for yourself. As long as I’ve touched that exposed nerve, Herman, allow me to set the record straight...no pun intended. I’m actually AC/DC. I go both ways.”

“Huh. You know...that’s kind of surprising.” I crossed my arms, staring right at the Villain of Voltage. “You could go after anybody, male or female, in New York City, and STILL never had a date on Saturday night!”

“You’re channeling Spider-Man now, Herman, with those inane quips?”

“Hey, Max, now I think I get why you had such a hard-on for the wall-crawler. Young body, all those sticky webs...ew. I think I just threw up in my mouth.”

“Enough!” Electro stepped forward, a trail of sparks thrown up in his wake. “I look forward to cramming lightning down your throat!”

I just shrugged before bringing my gloves up. “Since you never know who’s listening, I’m not a homophobe.”

“I don’t care, Herman,” Electro snapped.

“Oh, I know. I just wanted it on the record that I only said those things because I took a page out of Boomerang’s book and distracted you. Again.”

Electro paused in mid-step. Man...it’s really the little things that matter in life. The slow realization and the dawning of the “oh, crap” look on his face really made things worthwhile for that split-second before a stone hammer slammed into his ribs. Electro flew sideways, arcing through the air, his passage marked by the sparks drifting to the ground.

“You declare yourself a God of Lightning? Then stand and face the God of Thunder!” Thor raised his hammer over his head as Electro slammed to the grass. I watched as Electro climbed back to his feet, wobbling, but still pulsing with energy.

“Days ago, I would have pissed my pants at the very thought of crossing paths with you, Thor. But now...” Electro’s lips pulled back as he found the guts to sneer at the Avenger. “...but now, I welcome it. I’m still looking for the upper limit on my capacity. You’ll make a damn good test, Avenger.”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “Of all the damn weeks for Electro to get self-confidence.”

“I believe Ms. Marvel said the same thing about thou, Herman.” Thor squared his shoulders as he faced the human dynamo across the field. “Come. If Electro wishes to prove himself, it is up to us to make sure he’s found wanting.”

“Yeah,” I said as I walked, stride-to-massive-stride, with Thor towards the electricity wielder. “Let’s walk right up to an undead Electro, who’s throwing around lightning like it’s a bunch of streamers, and prove him wrong. This is a good idea...but then again,” I realized, “doing this is, what, just another Thursday to you, huh?”

“Mondays, actually. Thursdays tend to be alien invasions,” Thor replied. Was he joking with me, or telling the truth? Hey, whatever reason, it distracted me from the very stupid plan of actually walking UP to Electro and beating the hell out of him. By the time I realized just what I was doing, Electro was coming to meet us. Too late to turn back now.

“Come on, Thor. Make me famous, you blonde haired throwback,” Electro growled.

“As you wish!” Thor raced forward, hammer leading the way, as Electro dashed towards him. Throwing his hands out, Electro threw two lightning bolts at the Avenger. They streaked towards Thor, but at the last minute, turned in mid-air, arcing towards Mjolnir and disappearing into the stone hammer. Before Electro could recover, Thor was in his face, slamming his shoulder into Max before swinging Mjlonir and catching Electro as he was off-balance. Electro skidded to the side, struggling to keep his balance, as Thor followed up...only for Electro to spin around and blast him with a bolt from short range, the energy arcing from his fingers into Thor's chest. With a grunt, Thor staggered backwards, but managed to catch Electro's next attack on his weapon.

“Thou are indeed more powerful than I expected,” Thor acknowledge, brushing at the scorch mark on his blue armor.

“Yeah, well, I ain't your Daddy's Electro anymore.” Electro launched an attack, a flurry of lightning and punches, driving forward at Thor. At first, Thor easily knocked aside each attack, swatting them out of the air like bugs. “You know,” Electro mocked Thor even as the Avenger ducked under a round-a-house, “you call yourself the God of Thunder...and you swing that hammer around...I wonder...”

Electro's next attack didn't go for Thor...but instead, Electro's hand snaked out and wrapped itself around the shaft of Mjolnir. From my vantage point of staying well out of range (let's be honest, throwing myself in the middle would have done more harm to Thor than to Electro), Electro looked like he was sticking his finger into a open socket. His body jerked for a moment, but suddenly, his other hand wrapped around the weapon as well. “...I wonder,” he said, his voice chattering like he was a normal human being getting electrocuted, “if I can borrow some of that hammer's power...”

“Thou are not worthy to wield this weapon,” Thor bellowed, “nor the energies within!”

“Yeah, well, the mystical energy I got pouring through me from Dormammu says otherwise, Avenger. Let's see how I deal with yours...” Electro flared suddenly. I had to shield my eyes for a moment before the tinted lenses in my mask kicked in. Even with the protection, I still couldn't stare directly at Electro. The field of electricity around him shone with a bright white energy, and the air crackled like I was standing in the heart of a electric generator.

“So...beautiful...” I heard Electro say. “And it's mine, Thor...all mine...”

“Nay!” With a loud cry, Thor ripped Mjolnir away from Electro's grip.

“Too late...you don't know what I'm packing now...actually, here, let me show you!” For a second, Electro's aura disappeared, the bright white cutting away to nothingness, just before all that energy sliced through the air, slamming into Thor. It enveloped him, and I could hear a sharp cry of pain as he was knocked backwards. He hit the ground, rolling from the impact before coming to a stop, face-down...unmoving.

“Wow...” Electro was wobbling slightly on his feet, trying to keep his balance. The aura of electricity that had surrounded him was gone, leaving nothing but the green-and-yellow costume and the bullet holes in the front. “That was...”

A level-three, right to the side of his face. I fired again as I approached, rocking him backwards. He staggered, cursing loudly, as I brought up both hands and gave him twin blasts to his chest. Those knocked him down to the ground, and even then, I kept firing at him. “Looks like you blew your wad, Max,” I mocked as the lawn exploded around him, the edges of my blasts throwing up chunks of dirt into the air.

Blindly, he threw a bolt of lightning at me. It came too close for comfort, causing me to flinch. It was enough time for Electro to take aim, and fire off a more accurate attack, catching me in the shoulder. My nerves tingled for a moment, causing me to stumble. “You don't think I have a reserve tank, Herman,” he said as, on his knees, he threw more energy my way, which I barely managed to avoid by diving to the side. “That's always been your problem. You think you're so smart and clever, that you're the most brilliant guy in the room.” The aura was quickly regenerating around him, giving Electro a pale yellow glow. “No one else could be as clever as you, no one else could have a plan that was better than yours. You always pretended, with your ridiculous limits and morals, that you were somehow superior to the rest of us common thugs. No wonder your best friends were a retard and a drunkard. They fed your superiority complex!”

“Me? A superiority complex? We went to the same freakin' therapist, Max!” I fired off a blast as I ducked one of his lightning bolts. It still caught me, sizzling my upper arm, but my blast managed to knock the wind out of Electro, or would of if he still breathed. “My problem, Max, is that you tried to kill me!”

“So did the Punisher, but that didn't stop you from having Boomerang cut him down!”

The bolt of lightning Electro flung my way caught me in the leg. The muscles underneath spasmed, causing me to fall to the ground. A level-two kept Electro honest and at a distance, though, as I tried to recover. “Well, if you weren't working for the guy who's trying to bring about the end of the world, I wouldn't be fighting you!”

“That proves the other thing about you, Herman. On the losing side, again. If it isn't Spider-Man getting the better of you...”

“Hey, Max,” I interrupted, “I got a better track-record against Spider-Man than you do!”

Alright. I could stand here and throw barbs and vibro-blasts at Electro all day, but that's not going to solve a damn thing. He's just regenerating all the power he threw at Thor, while I'm wasting juice throwing level-threes out just to make him notice. I couldn't think of anything else that could stop him, though. It used to be water, but in the bank, the fire hose and the broken sink's spray didn't do jack but give Electro more room to make fun of me. That aura of electricity just vaporized the water before it got to him...

So just overload him then.

I was so used to working on my own, or with Aleksei, that I forgot I had someone else. Someone a lot more powerful, and a lot stronger than me. And he was beginning to get back to his feet. My blasts couldn't hurt Max, so I shifted my fire, throwing several level three-blasts into the ground as Max's feet. The initial blasts threw chunks of dirt into the air, the next couple turned it all into small chunks, and the final wave of attacks pulverized the chunks into smaller bits. The dirt got into Electro's face, and he cursed while rubbing the dust from his eyes. That was the distraction I needed, and I damn near sprinted to where Thor was getting back to his feet. “Hey, Thor, I got a plan. Are you ok?”

“Aye,” the Avenger said as he accepted my outstretched hand. His grip was still strong as I helped him to his feet. “I am afraid, however, that we may have a problem.”

I couldn't hold back the laugh. “At this point, what's another?”

“Be serious,” and instantly, I was. “I do not know how, but Electro has absorbed energy from Mjolnir. The electricity he smote me was composed of that energy. Even now, I can sense it still in his body, even after the discharge. His attacks may now be tinged with magic.”

“Crap. Let me guess. That means he can really hurt you now, like how the Wrecker and his magic crowbar smacked you around.”

“Aye.”

“Alright..that doesn't change a thing.” I pointed with one hand, towards the glistening waters of the Jackie Onassis Reservoir. “I grab Electro, you grab the two of us, and together, we throw him in the lake. He might be able to disperse a high-pressure water spray, but I'm willing to bet an entire damn reservoir will short him out entirely." I thumped my quilted armor lightly. “Between my armor's insulation and your hammer acting like a lightning rod, we should be able to contain him long enough to get him underwater.”

“A solid plan,” Thor nodded. “Will thou be able to stand his lightning, however?”

“I have no idea,” I replied, “but it's worth a damn shot.”

“Aye.” Thor and I turned back towards Electro. The lightning arcing around him now seemed to hold tinges of white, flashing with each circuit across his body. “Let us make haste.”

“That's right,” Electro cried as, side-by-side, the two of us charged at him, my dumb ass taking the lead by a few steps. “Keep bringing it, you two!”

“Shut...up!” I threw myself at Electro, arms wide to embrace him. Even before I body checked him, the first shocks were hitting my body, like sticking your tongue onto the leads of a 9-volt. I managed to lock my arms around him, though, before the spasms got unbearable, pinning one arm against his side.

“What are you...let me go!” His free hand pounded against my back. The contact plates managed to deflect most of the blow, but one of my deltoids contracted, seizing up my back and causing me to scream, like getting a Charlie Horse on your shoulder. But as soon as Thor, running past him, grabbed Electro by the scruff of his neck, the shocks lessened, as the majority of the electricity arced to Thor's hammer. A few more steps, and then we were airborne, Mjolnir leading the way, lightning flashing from Electro's body to the mystical hammer. I reached up as best I could, trying to grapple Electro's other arm. Grabbing it was like trying to grab a live wire, but my suit's insulation held as I gripped his forearm, keeping him from tossing lightning at Thor.

We skimmed the ground, fifteen feet in the air by my reckoning. The shortest distance between us and the water was a straight line, and Thor was abiding by the laws of geometry, not wasting a single moment. Electro struggled against my grip, his hand trying to grab me to send a direct current into my body. My suit did its job, keeping the stray bolts and their charge down to a minimum. My big concern was actually keeping hold of Electro so I didn't go falling to the ground until the very last minute...and that minute approached in a matter of seconds, as the edge of the reservoir, well lit by a series of floodlights, appeared in the distance. Closing my eyes, I unwrapped my arms, and gravity instantly took over as I fell away from Electro and Thor. I hit the ground shoulder first, rolling with the impact as best I could. I came to a stop near the water's edge, coming up on my elbows, trying to catch sight of Thor.

It was impossible to miss, a trail of sparks arcing into the air. Thor brought Electro over the deepest part of the reservoir. The two were surrounded by electricity, doing their best impersonation of ball lightning as Electro continued to generate voltage. For a moment, the pair hovered in place, a bright will'o'wisp over the dark water, before they suddenly dove down. The light turned into a glaring flash, with a large geyser of water erupting from the reservoir, Thor drove Electro into the waters of the Jackie Onassis Reservoir. A loud, sizzling pop filled the air as the two of them disappeared under the surface. I climbed to my feet, peering over the large waves created by the impact. Where the God of Thunder and the Villain of Voltage had disappeared into the murky depths, there was nothing but darkness. That had to be a good sign, I thought. Otherwise, there'd be some kind of glow, some kind of light from underwater.

So...now what did I do? Do I sit here and wait for someone to come back out? If Thor came crawling back out of the water, than we'd be in damn good shape. If it was Electro, though...well, then I was fresh out of ideas on how to deal with him. And he'd probably focus solely on me with Thor out of the picture. And that was a fight I was going to lose.

Heroes don't run away. That's what I always called heroes dumb. But now...screw it, I was outmatched. And back the way I came, the Avengers were fighting. Safety in numbers. Teamwork, I told myself as I turned away. Thor would understand. Damn it, I was rationalizing, but standing here if Electro shot out the water was pure suicide.

I could make out the bright red portal shimmering across the Great Lawn, and used it to orient myself. I ran towards it, jogging as quickly as I could in my suit. Even from this distance, I could make out the sounds of battle, along with the occasional blue flash or yellow streak of energy. Alright, so I show back up...I had hurt Chondu before, if he hadn't killed Fury...no, no, positive thoughts. If Fury had kicked Chondu's teeth in, which was the more likely scenario, then we could go after someone else. Reaper? The lady in the bronze bikini that was fighting Ms. Marvel? I could get in the middle of that...focus, Herman, focus.

Yeah. So intent on that split second image of Nekra and Ms. Marvel going at it, I missed the form gliding down beside me. It matched speed with me, wings outstretched, whistling through the air. “Hello, Herman,” the Vulture cried, before steering into me, knocking me off-stride and sending me sprawling to the ground. “I'm so glad,” Toomes cackled as he swung up to hover in the air in front of me, “that you managed to survive this long. Let Electro handle Thor. You and I have unfinished business, and now it's my turn to extract a pound of flesh.”

“I thought human Toomes was ugly, Adrian, but undead you really takes the cake!”

“Hah!” Vulture swooped away from my level-three blasts. My gloves were still at about 50% capacity, but I couldn't afford to waste energy trying to hit Adrian. I was running a damn gauntlet tonight as Adrian flung a steel quill at my feet that I barely avoided, stepping backwards as it embedded itself in the soil. “Look at you, Shocker. A pathetic creature of meat and bone, panting and sweating as you run across the park. How can you challenge a perfect, immortal being?”

“Tell you what, find one and we'll talk!” I fire a wide-spread, trying to clip the Vulture, but I only winged him, the metal extension easily shrugging off my blasts.

“You got lucky last time, Herman! It took an entire fire escape to ground me. This time, you have nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide!” Another steel quill headed my way, but as I dodged, Vulture anticipated my motion. He drove into me, shoulder first, before swooping up into the air. I grabbed at him, managing to get a hold of his metal harness, as he flew through the air like a missile. The ground retreated below us, this time a lot further than six or seven stories. We left Central Park behind, well above the treetops...and almost to the level of the apartment buildings surrounding the park.

“Damn it, Adrian,” I yelled, finding some false bravado as I clung to his armor, “find a new trick! This dropping me from great heights is old!”

“You know me, Herman! I like to stick to the classics!” Higher, and higher, and higher. I could feel the cold seeping into my armor as the Vulture took us well above his old flight ceiling. All I could do was hold on...and hold on...

He suddenly came to a halt. I felt the tips of his steel talons dig into my neck as he grabbed me by the throat. With strength I never knew Adrian had, he pushed me away from him. Instantly, I felt gravity pull on my entire body, 9.8 m/s worth of it trying to bring me back down to Earth. Only the iron grip of the Vulture kept me from plummeting, the fingers cutting off the circulation. I clutched at his arm with both hands, trying to keep a hold of him.

“Look below you, Herman. Manhattan. The heart of New York City. The heart of the United States. The heart of the entire world. I can see it, all of it. Manhattan's a patchwork of lights. New Jersey burns. Brooklyn and Queens are dark. And beyond that, Herman, America. Which couldn't put up the fight the Avengers, the Initative, and the criminals did. Boston. Chicago. Los Angeles. Pittsburgh. San Antonio. This country is dead, Herman. And the rest of the world as well.”

My legs kicked, looking for purchase anything, even the damn air molecules, as he continued. “I win, Herman. Years of fighting Spider-Man, years of fighting the Maggia, fighting the stroke that crippled me. Years of being an old man in a young man's game. It all goes back to when my business partner cheated me. All those threads, all intertwining and leading me to this very point. I win. And you lose. Goodbye, Herman. I’d like to say it’s been fun, but really, it’s been more of an inconvenience. Know that you've done your best against the forces that have allied against you, but in the end, your best just wasn't good enough.”

“Then let me leave you with something to remember me by, Adrian!” I pulled my hand away from his forearm and shoved it right in his face, firing off a level three centimeters from his nose. The pressure wave rippled across his burned, oily skin, tearing the hole in his cheek wide open.

The pinpoints of pain left my neck as Adrian let go, shrieking in pain. At least I could take that small moment of triumph to the grave. There really wasn't even enough oxygen for me to scream as I felt myself plummeting towards Manhattan, spinning in mid-air to face...

“Vulture,” a female voice said as one arm plucked me out of mid-air, “you have no idea what kind of forces you are talking about.”

She had me by one arm, lifting me up and now holding me by my hip. A blonde goddess, my guardian angel at this moment in time, Ms. Marvel looked up at the Vulture, twenty feet above us, as I managed not to pee my pants, gulping for oxygen as she spoke. “And one of the rules of those forces is someone always has your back.”

Fluid weeped from his face as the Vulture glared at my savoir. “Really? Isn't this something? The common criminal plucked out of the sky by the fat whore,” Vulture mocked. “And who watches your back? You need one arm to keep Schultz from plummeting to the Earth, Ms. Marvel, and I'm very confident of my ability to beat you with one arm tied behind your back!”

Beep.

“Target acquired,” a robotic voice spoke from Adrian Toomes. Before Toomes could spin in mid-air to face his new adversary, the energy beam slammed into the metal harness, propelling the Vulture forward. A second beam slammed into him, and a third.

“So, you fancy yourself a flyer.” Hovering with ease, his arm aimed squarely at the Vulture, the silver-and-black form of MACH-IV locked in on the Vulture. “Let's see how good you are.”

“Beetle! A new suit does not make you worth my time,” the Vulture cried.

MACH-IV responded. Rather, his suit responded, as a panel on his shoulder slid open. A small device popped out, painting the Vulture with a red laser square in the middle of his armor. “The suit? No. The man inside it? Maybe. The laser-designator for a whole bunch of mini-missiles? Definitely. Get Herman to safety, Ms. Marvel. I'll ground this bird.”

Part of me really wanted to see the Vulture and MACH-IV throw down, the better, saner part of me wanted down, as quickly and as safely as possible. The Vulture spread his wings, and suddenly dove for the deck. Instantly, MACH-IV was right behind him, following him, arms tucked at his sides, a sleek missile cutting through the air. “Kick his ass, Abner,” I yelled after him.

“Hold on, Herman,” Ms. Marvel said, grabbing me with her other hand and helping me onto her back as we hovered what-felt-like-miles above Manhattan. “Grab onto my shoulders and I'll get you down.”

“Roger.”

After a few seconds...

“Herman, those aren't my shoulders.”

“Oh, right.”

A few more seconds.

“You can let go of them now.”

“Sorry.”

“What's that?” I pointed off into the distance, towards the east side of the park. “Do you see it?”

“Yeah,” Ms Marvel said as we cleared about five hundred feet. “Can’t miss it. And I'm willing to bet, it isn't good.” She gently pulled up, leveling off into a gentle descent as we headed towards it. “We better go investigate. Ms. Marvel to Iron Man, I got what could be a magical disturbance off Columbus Avenue. Taking the Shocker to go check it out.”

“Are they going to be alright without you, back at the portal?”

“MACH-IV can take my place once he’s done with the Vulture. This is a lot more important, especially if it ties into the Grim Reaper’s scheme.”

‘It’ was a shimmering curtain of blood red light, wavering gently as if being blown by an easy breeze. It hung from the sky just behind the Museum of Natural History, above Columbus Avenue, stretching the entire block. The barricades that surrounded Central Park, I noticed as we descended, had been lengthened in this area, encompassing the entire block that the museum sat on.

“What happened there,” I asked, pointing over her shoulder at the area.

“SHIELD used the museum as one of the main checkpoints. Everyone in New York knows where that museum is, and it's big. We handled the first rush of refugees no problem.” We were still over the park, but I could see, over the top of the barricades, the horde of zombies pushing and pounding, trying to get inside. They were five or six rows deep along the street, shoving against one another. It was a disorganized mob that craved entrance into the safe haven of Central Park, a mob that didn’t would break under low morale or be affected by tear gas. If they got inside...

“Tell me SHIELD has a plan if those things get inside,” I called out to Ms. Marvel.

“Lots and lots of bullets and plasma rounds,” she replied, not exactly filling me with confidence as we passed over the museum. “The portal was supposed to work,” she said as we came to a landing about twenty feet from the curtain, “and massive firepower was just a back-up plan.”

The curtain made no noise as it gently wavered in front of us. It hung back, about five feet from the plasteel barricade that separated us from the angry dead. Their cries and moans, from such a close distance, made me shiver. “That noise...I don’t know if I’m ever going to forget it, for as long as I live,” Ms. Marvel told me. “It’s like...they know what they have to do, but they don’t want to do it.’

“That about sums it up.” Reaching down to the ground, I picked up a smooth stone from the lawn. The curtain stretched above us with no visible means of support as I reared back and hurled the rock forward. When it reached the red energy, it simple vanished, a small ripple radiating outwards. “You think it’s a portal,” I asked.

“It doesn’t look like the one Doc Strange opened. I’m calling it in. Ms. Marvel to Iron Man, I’m at the Museum of Natural History with the Shocker. There’s some kind of energy field here, just at the barricade with Columbus Avenue. No, it’s not doing anything, it’s just...”

“Wait,” I said as the barricade suddenly became a bit brighter.

“Hold one,” Ms. Marvel said as the barricade shimmered. No ripples appeared, but the curtain appeared to move, waves lapping in a vertical and horizontal manner. “The energy field is moving. It looks like it’s away from us, towards...”

The curtain gently lapped against the barricade for a brief moment, and then it was gone. Along with the barricade. And in its place, not wasting a single second, a thousand angry zombies poured through the open gap. They rolled over each other, like angry ants, the ones in the very front falling to the ground as their brethren behind them shoved, pushing them over and walking over the dead bodies. The gray-white barricade that had dominated their sight had been replaced by a buxom blonde and a guy in brown-and-yellow armor. A thousand pairs of hands reached out for us, a cry of hunger and need filling the air. Rotting skin, flaking flesh, pale eyes, both arms, one arm, no arms. Perfect clothing, blood stained shirts, ripped dresses.

“Oh, crap!” That was my astute analysis of the situation as a horde of cannibals marched towards me. And yes, I know, nitpickers, they’re not cannibals. Cannibalism in the true sense of the word implies an interspecies activity. These creatures cannot be considered human. They prey on humans. They do not prey on each other, that’s the difference. They attack and they feed only on warm human flesh. Like the kind that adorned my bones. I raised my gloves, and sent a level-two into the head of the closest zombie wearing the remnants of a Nets jersey. He fell backwards, surrounded by the horde that streamed around his body. One down. 9,999 to go.

“Herman, let’s move!” Ms. Marvel spun me around, and I grabbed onto her shoulders again. We were airborne in an instant. Below us, some of the zombies reached into the sky, grabbing futilely at us. But the rest of them kept moving, a glacier slowly pushing forward, lurching onto the green fields surrounding the Museum.

“Breach! We got a barricade breach, down at the Natural Museum of History,” Ms. Marvel spoke into her communicator. “At least a thousand zombies...”

“Look.” We were flying to the north, giving me a clear view of the barricades lining Central Park West. The zombies along the sidewalks weren’t pounding at the barricades anymore. En masse, they had turned, and were now shuffling south. Not one still clawed at the obstructions. “They know there’s an opening.”

“...and we’re gonna have a lot more. Fury, if you’re there, we’re gonna need every single piece of hardware SHIELD’s got to stop this one.”

“You heard the lady!” Through the communicator, I heard Fury’s voice, tinged with weariness starting to bark orders. “Get those civilians towards the reservoir, and the second the Avengers get that portal open, I want them through! Everyone else, set up a firing line along West Drive. I want every single person who can handle a firearm on that line! Ms. Marvel, you're in charge. Hold that damn position!”

Below us, we could see the beginnings of panic. The civilians who had been waiting for the instructions to walk through Doctor Strange’s portal and reach safety on Long Island now saw SHIELD soldiers running towards West Drive. And the moans, that was the kicker. Put simply, the civilians broke. Some followed orders, and headed north towards the reservoir. Some simply to the east, away from the oncoming horde. And some ran south, towards the empty spaces of the park where the barricades haven’t broken.

“This is going to be a massacre...there’s nowhere for anyone to escape to. Damn it, Osborn, this is exactly why no one with brains came to your little rescue station,” I cursed into the darkness.

The zombie horde kept streaming north. They were stumbling past the museum, heading towards the 79th Street Traverse. One large column of the undead...with a few stragglers. A few zombies (relatively speaking) peeled off at the sounds of panicky citizens heading south, distracted by the fleeting chance at human flesh in the distance. They kept moving, lurching to the north, where the bulk of the citizens of New York City were fleeing.

Ms. Marvel set us down just passed the Traverse. Even in the nighttime darkness, I could see the first vanguard of zombies in the far distance, coming out of the trees and heading right for us. To either side, SHIELD soldiers hastily set up barricades, turning over crates, cots, and anything they could use for a firing platform. Almost immediately, Ms. Marvel began barking orders. “YOU! Get those ammo crates up here, pronto! I’m going to need runners and reloaders! I want a steady stream of fire. And if anyone’s got any grenades, get them up here, quickly!”

I started to pitch in, grabbing a nearby picnic table and shoving it against a makeshift barricade. Running crossed my mind. Escape? Impossible. Nearly impossible. I could run. I could make it back to the Dene, back down the escape hatch to the Punisher’s arsenal, and figure it out from there. I could do it...

No. They was the old me. Besides...how many times have the Avengers pulled a miracle out of their collective asses? And it would have to be them, with Osborn and Petruski pulling a vanishing act. Damn it, Osborn. You wanted to draw out the big bad, and now that he’s shown up, you’re nowhere to be seen. And your dumb ass sent away all my friends, who had a whole bunch of firepower...

...

...

...”Do you have a cell phone?”

Ms. Marvel carefully set the box grenades down on the ground. “What?”

“A cell phone!”

“This is NO time for a personal...”

“I think I can get everyone back here. Doctor Octopus, Blizzard, Molecule Man. I can get them here, and we can blow that horde to kingdom come, but I need a cell phone!”

Ms. Marvel, after a second’s hesitation, tossed her communicator at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Herman. Alright, people, I got grenades here! If you got a throwing arm, grab some! And where the hell are those claymore mines? I asked for them fifteen seconds ago!”

He always had a cell phone. The man needed instant access to the Bookie at all times to place his bets. I hoped to Christ he still had it on him as I punched his number in. One perk about being a villain – we still memorized phone numbers instead of programming them into our phones and forgetting them. Our careers weren’t condusive to the physical survival of cell phones...

A ring tone. I closed my eyes, mumbling a silent prayer as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. “Come on, come on, co...”

Click. “Um...hello?”

“James? James! It’s Herman!”

“Herman,” came the surprised voice of Speed Demon on the other end of the phone. “What the hell...where the hell have you been? Are you alright? The Chameleon...”

“James, I don’t have time. We’re in Central Park and we’re about to be overrun by a horde of zombies. I need to talk to Owen, right now!”

“Owen? Damn, he’s across Denver, over in Aurora. One second.” It was three seconds, actually, as the sound of rushing air filled the phone. “Alright, Herman, here you go.”

“Herman?” Molecule Man sounded just a bit taken aback at hearing my voice. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m about to be! Look, I’m in Central Park, and the barricades are down. I got about two thousand hungry zombies marching in my direction, and me, Ms. Marvel, and SHIELD are all that’s between them and a bunch of civilians! I need you guys to teleport back here, pronto!”

“That’s impossible, Herman.”

“What? Owen, you teleported everyone away, how hard can it be to teleport everyone back?!?”
“I teleported everyone to Denver, Herman. This place is my home. It’s my anchor. I have no anchors in New York City. Trying to teleport that much living matter stretched my limits, even with a point in hyperspace to focus on. It was a one-way trip at best.”

“You’ve got to try, Owen! Without you guys, everyone here’s probably going to become a three-piece KFC meal!”

“I need an anchor, Herman! Without one, I...”

Owen got quiet for a moment. I could hear someone else speaking to him. “What? No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t guarantee...I can’t. If you...huh. I...yes. Yes. But it’ll take time for all that to come to fruition. If we are to try this, it must be done right now. Alright. Stand ready. Herman, where are you right now? Be exact.”

“Um...I’m on West Drive...if I look to the south, I can see Belvedere Castle.”

“That will have to do. Look for a portal.” The phone call was disconnected from Molecule Man’s end.

“Ms. Marvel! Molecule Man’s sending help,” I called over. She didn’t respond as she manhandled a crate into place. The zombies were closing still, unwavering. I could pick out individual ones in the mob, before I ripped my glance from the creeping death. I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the black nothingness that Molecule Man had warned me about. It took a few seconds, but there, almost directly parallel to me, a void of darkness hung in the air. I readied myself, expecting Molecule Man to come first, or maybe Speed Demon...

What came wasn’t at all what I expected.

“Ooof,” he squeaked as he slammed into the ground chest first. Behind him, the portal snapped shut, disappearing from reality without a sound. “Wow. That was eternity in there. Longer than you think, Dad. It’s longer than you think.”

“You’re it? You’re the help?”

“Damn right I am! Trust me, I’m about to salvage this entire thing!” He hopped to his feet, and put a hand out to me. “We haven’t met. I’m Wade Wilson, private investigator. I’m a dick.”

He wore a red-and-black full body outfit, complete with a ridiculous number of pouches scattered along his belt. On his back were twin swords and two assault rifles. On his hip hung four pistols. And across his chest were slung a whole bunch of grenades. I looked him up and down, jaw dropping. “You’re the only guy he sent?”

“Hey, Herman, it’s dramatically appropriate AND good for your reviews that I showed up by myself. Didn’t you hear that Molecule Man has a plan? And aren’t all plans made up of molecules anyway? Have some faith! Just because there’s no more room in Hell and the dead are walking the Earth doesn’t mean you should just toss faith in the Flying Spaghetti Monster out the window!”

“Deadpool?!?” Ms. Marvel’s voice echoed above the din as SHIELD continued to work around here. “Molecule Man sent us Deadpool? I thought he was your friend, Herman!”

“Don’t worry, Blondie. I ain’t here just to pop a buyrate. I’m actually here for a purpose! You just don’t get to find out until later on in the story...so you’ll just have to keep reading to find out what it is, won’t you, true believers? Nuff said. Hey, listen, while I’m here monologing and have a soapbox...”

“Deadpool,” Ms. Marvel proclaimed, “you’re here to kill zombies!”

“Oh, yeah!”

BLAM BLAM BLAM!

Faster than possible, Deadpool’s assault rifle was in his hand. In the shrinking distance, three zombies fell to the ground, unmoving as the horde swept over their fallen comrades. “I am here to kill zombies, and luckily for you, I’m all out of bubblegum!”

BLAM BLAM BLAM!

More zombies dropped to the lawn as somehow, this guy Deadpool scored headshots from long range. “But before I do, two things. One, does it bother anyone that the Notorious B.I.G. got this huge send off and outpouring of support when he croaked, but no one gave a damn about Jack Kirby's passing?”

BLAM BLAM BLAM!

“And two,” he said in a voice that grated at my eyes, “Herman, you want to step about five feet to your left.”

“Huh? Why,” I asked, really really freakin' confused.

“Osborn's launching his counter attack, and it's a doozy. Just five feet, Herman. Trust me.”

I humored the strange man. A few steps brought me closer to Ms. Marvel, as Deadpool took five steps to his right. “Alright, that should be good...any minute...any minute...” he said, craning his neck up to the night sky.

“What the hell...” was all I could get out before the ammo crates slammed into the ground. I barely held off a heart attack as the wooden packages cracked open from the impact, four of them, spilling golden belts of ammunition out onto the ground. “What the hell is that? Jesus!”

“Wrong god, Herman...wait for it...and...here it is. Deus ex machina. Literally.”

He slammed into the ground like the fist of an angry god. The earth moved as he dropped to one knee, absorbing the energy of his free fall with ease. Remember earlier in the story when I was telling you what it was like to stand face-to-face with Thor? Well, the universe seemed to love the idea of me meeting with mystical beings, because here was another one.

“Great. First Deadpool, and now him,” I heard Ms. Marvel say. “We just might have a shot at pulling this off after all,” she said begrudgingly.

He stood up, not brushing the dirt off his knees. All muscle, he wore black studded armor, like a guy walking out of the Meat Packing District on Disco Night. The skull and crossed swords on his chestplace, though, told me he meant business, along with the wicked looking axe strapped to his back. This thing was so huge, to any other man but this piece of work, it would have been a two-handed halbred. On his head, an old school helmet. Really old school. I'm talking “Aristotle at the chalkboard” old, completely with a shock of white hair acting as a mohawk down the center. But hanging on his hips was the capstone to his entire outfit. And even after seeing everything I'd seen over the past week, I just couldn't believe it. I was with Ms. Marvel, in that we might...hell, if this worked, someone better get a damn picture of it, because I want visual proof of what's about to happen.

Glowing blue eyes stared out at the approaching zombie horde as the man finished chugging the can of Guinness in his hand, before crumpling it and whipping it towards the zombie horde. “I have arrived,” the man said as the can, at an impossible distance, slammed into the forehead of an approaching ghoul, putting it back down for good. “Wilson. Schultz. You two shall watch the flanks. Ms. Marvel...”

The man I'd soon know as Ares, Greek God of War, hefted the two M61 Vulcans, one on each hip. “I need you to be my brace. The recoil on these things is impressive.”

After a second of surprise, Ms. Marvel complied with his request. “Alright, I need ammo loaders! Those guns are going to chew through ammo like it's going out of style, and if they jam, we're in big trouble! Rex! Roosterman! Acyl! Gogolu! Hashasheen! Deiseach! Get your asses up here, and start organizing all this ammo!”

As the SHIELD soldiers scrambled over the pile of shining ammunition...well, I was staring, dumbfounded, at the sight before me. “Those...those are M61 Vulcan mini-guns,” I stammered.

“Yes,” Ares said. They were hanging from a metal harness (adamantium, I later found out) over the black leather.

“They put those on military aircraft,” I said in amazement.

“Yes,” he said again. He held down the triggers partway. With a loud whine, the barrels on both miniguns spun up, moving so fast that the six individual barrels blurred into one continuous motion.

“Those things put out FOUR THOUSAND rounds per minute,” I exclaimed as my head tried not to explode.

“I know. They are not the most optimal weapons for this situation. But there weren't any GAU-12 Equalizers available for civilian use.” Ares looked over his shoulder. “Move quickly. They will be upon us soon.”

Ms. Marvel gave the line a final glance. Up and down West Drive, the barricades were as ready as they could be. SHIELD soldiers leaned against the crates and benches, their weapons taking aim as the horde. Some faces held resolve, while others held apprehension. Mine?

“I can't believe he's dual-wielding MINIGUNS,” I said to the closest person. Which turned out to be Deadpool.

“I know. Can you believe it? You would think something like that would be incredibly unlikely. Zombies are serious business, man.” Deadpool looked at the assault rifle clutched in his hands, and shrugged. “Oh, well. I pride myself on being an artist when it comes to killing. Let Ares cut down hundreds of those things at a time. Quality over quantity.”

“Ares? As in 'the Greek God of War' Ares?”

“Yeah, Herman. Nice to see you stayed awake during English class! I never could. I know to speak English good, I ain't gonna bother with that!”

“Ares. Wow. I'm...I feel way out of my league...”

“Hey, Herman. You're standing here, right? You're fought side by side with the Avengers. Ms. Marvel plucked you out of mid-air AND let you cop an accidental feel. Ares is counting on you to watch his flank. And I haven't put a bullet into your brain. Far as I'm concerned, you earn the right to be here.” Deadpool lifted his assault rifle into the air. “So, I'll keep watch on the left, you handle the right. Just watch your ass. Those damn things are sneaky when they want to be.”

“Right...” I murmurred as Deadpool trotted behind Ares. The SHIELD soldiers were unspooling the large rounds of HE ammo, laying it out to the rear of Ares. Ms Marvel moved the barricades in front of him, giving him a clear line of fire, before moving behind him as well. Sh planted her foot in the ground, driving the heel and sole in, and put bother hands and her shoulder against the God of War.

“Ready when you are, Ares,” she said, gritting her teeth in anticipation.

“Aye. Stand fast, Ms. Marvel. There is no glory in killing Hades' wayward children, but that does not make them any less dangerous.”

“I got it. You just blow those bastards away.”

As Ares hefted the miniguns, I chimed in. “That's HEI ammo, Ares. Even if you hit them dead center, it's not going to put them down for sure.”

“I am aware, Schultz. That is why I plan on going for head shots.”

“...right. Head shots. With a pair of miniguns.” After a second, all I could do was nod. “Well, you are the God of War, right? Didn't earn that title sitting around on the firing range.”

“True. Now, stand fast, Herman. They will be in range soon. SOLDIERS OF SHIELD! TODAY YOU WILL STARE DEATH IN THE FACE, AND IT WILL BE FOUND WANTING! YOU ARE HUMAN BEINGS, BLESSED WITH SOULS AND BREATH! STAND FAST BESIDES THE GOD OF WAR, AND YOU SHALL SEE THE NEXT SUNRISE!”

Hell, I felt inspired. I stood well to the side, an eye on the zombies. They were really damn close, a lot closer than I would have liked, as Ares held down the triggers, and the barrels began to spin again, their high pitched whine drowning out the moans. “STEADY! FIRE ON MY COMMAND,” Ares' voice bellowed over the cacophony of noise. “STEADY...STEADY...”

My eyes weren't on the zombie horde. I knew they were out there. They'd get here eventually. Instead, I looked over at Ares, standing tall, and Ms. Marvel behind him. The blonde was dead set, body rigid with just the right amount of give. She had her eyes closed in preparation for the recoil that would throw a sedan backwards. Instead of using her powers to mow down zombies, she was...doing what a lot of villains and criminals wouldn't, taking on a supporting role willingly. I admired that.

And that was all I was going to admire. I forced myself to look back over the barricades. They were a lot closer. “STEADY!”

Arms out.

“STEADY!”

Teeth clicking.

“STEADY!”

From one of the zombies in the front row, its guts fell out as it stumbled, hitting the ground. I couldn't hear the wet plop, but I still blanched as the ghoul stepped in its own innards, still advancing.

“STEADY!”

Deep breath. Glove out. Thumb on the trigger. Midnight on the firing line.

“UNLEASH HELL!”

*****

Streaks of green tracers filled the air as Ares opened fire. Racing across the lawn, upon impact with the skulls of the living dead, the nose of the four-inch round crushes against the firing pin, forcing it into the detonator and causing the round to explode. Against thin-skinned aircraft and light ground targets, HEI rounds will simply chew through them.

Against flesh and bone...there are very few words to describe the carnage that they cause.

The skulls, throats, and some of the upper chest of the first row of zombies simply ceased to exist, turning into a fine red mist as, true to his word, Ares scored head shots. I watched as he swept the Vulcans from side to side, his arms shaking as he did his best to keep the massive guns under his control. Behind him, Ms. Marvel’s rear foot was slowly pushing into the ground as she strained to hold Ares in place and provide him with a stable firing platform. Her arms flexed as she pushed against the recoil caused by the massive chainguns.

All along the firing line, the SHIELD soldiers had opened fire as well. Blue energy mixed with green tracers, and short staccatos of gunfire could be heard through the whine of the Vulcans. If the zombies flowing into Central Park had been a normal army, I couldn’t imagine anyone withstanding the brutal punishment being inflicted in such a small space. Ares simply shifted from one side to another, covering as much of the column as he could with his deadly rain of steel and explosives.

But it wasn’t enough. I know, all that firepower, and the literal God of War, and still the zombies pushed on. Two hundred yards. They were stepping over the bodies of their fallen brethren, walking over brains splattered on the grass, their forms covered in the gore blown in their direction. It didn’t matter if their colleague next to them was suddenly missing a head, or that one of their arms was blow clean off, leaving a jagged stump. All that mattered was us, and the Hades on Earth that Ares was laying down didn’t dissuade them in the slightest. And while I had nothing but praise for SHIELD and all they’ve done since this crisis began, they were still men and women who had been trained to go for the center of mass, body shots to drop an opponent. For every blue streak that caught a ghoul in the face, two or three slammed into their chests, ripping a hole in them, or sailed harmlessly overhead.

One guy, though, was shooting with perfect accuracy.

“Oh, I’ve been working on the railroad...”

BLAM!”

“...all the deadlong...”

BLAM!

“...day!”

BLAM!

“And I have, too,” I somehow heard Deadpool say over din. “Railroad work’s great for the quads.”

One hundred yards. Still well beyond my maximum range. All I could do was watch and wait, ignoring the growing ball of nerves in my stomach. The ammo loaders were feeding Ares the steady stream of firepower, the large belts rapidly flying through their hands as quickly as they could attach new belts of ammunition to the end of the current chain. Four thousand rounds a minute. If every round hit home, that was six thousand dead zombies. Add SHIELD’s efforts, and you had maybe another two hundred and fifty. Deadpool brought up maybe another fifty by himself. How many zombies were in New York City, pushing their way towards West Drive and the soft, gooey, fleshy center beyond it?

The center of the column was decimated, row upon row of zombies lying dead (again) in the grass. Behind them, the ghouls making their way over the bodies of the fallen were hung up, tripping over limbs, slipping on the bloody grass, or just mowed down by the stray rounds that flew between the initial groupings. The edges of the column, however, hadn’t endured the barrage from Ares’ assault, and now, they were close enough to the barricade to draw attention. The fire from SHIELD became more focused, head shots easier due to the short range. “HOLD THE FLANKS,” Ares’ voice boomed over the battlefield.

Alright. Fifty yards. I took aim with my vibro-smasher. She had been pretty once, before something had ripped half her blonde scalp off. She led the way, one eye socket empty, the baby blue in the other focused on the barricades in front of her. Deep breath. Squeeze the trigger...

...and a miss.

The blast knocked into a zombie behind her, but that one recovered and kept moving forward. My second shot didn’t miss, knocking her ruined head backwards as she fell to her knees before dropping forward onto the ground. My body told me to run, to sprint away. Forty yards. The next one was a guy in Dockers and a plaid shirt, untouched save for the little trickle of blood than ran from the corner of his lip. He went down on the first try. Thirty five. A raver girl, wearing a t-shirt with a stuffed teddy bear holding a gun to his head and the phrase “DON’T CARE BEAR” underneath. Headshot. Thirty. A male doctor in OR scrubs. Headshot.

“GRENADES!”

How Ms. Marvel bellowed over the gunfire, I didn’t know. Along the line, fire slacked off for a few moments, before a cloud of grenades sailed through the air. Most of them bounced along the ground towards the horde, a few managing to land among the back rows. When the grenades exploded, dirt, grass, and body parts flew through the air, a long line of destruction that ripped bodies apart. Even as limbs and blood rained down from the sky, the zombies just marched right through it. Some of them were caught in the secondary explosions of a few late-exploding grenades, but there wasn’t any stopping them.

Twenty five. A pair of twins, with matching bullet wounds above their hearts. Headshots. Twenty. A head attached to nothing more than a shoulder and an arm, blown forward by the grenades, was grabbing at the grass with its fingers and pulling itself along, desperate to get the very first bite of flesh. Headshot. I was acquiring and firing as best as I could, the wider spread of my vibro-blasts letting me sacrifice accuracy for speed. Fifteen. Oh, Christ, that one was wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt as I blew him away. Headshot. Ten.

Five yards.

“CLAYMORES!”

Ms. Marvel’s command set off a chain of explosions, as the Claymore mines planted on top of the barricades sent a spray of ball bearings flying through the horde. At chest level, and at close range, the torsos of the closest ghouls ripped in half. One zombie stumbled forward a step, before his head and shoulders slid off his body. God, how many more could there be? How many more marched through the valley of death just got a shot at a human being?

“HOLD! HOLD!”

Ares’ voice rallied the soldiers as SHIELD, Deadpool, and myself now fired from point-blank range. His twin Vulcans were to the sides, a wide angle for each gun, doing their best to clean out the edges of the horde. I paid that the scarcest amount of attention as the first zombie clawed at the makeshift barricade in front of me. Missing half its face, dried blood caked on his features, it was pulling itself over the ruined Claymore mine, reaching for me before I slammed it backwards with a blast to the face.

They were crashing into the barricade now. Some of the ghouls lunged forward, trying to use forward momentum to get over the obstructions, while others simply bounced into the walls before slowly reaching up for a handhold. I could hear the yells up and down the barricade, cries of fear and anger.

“LET GO, LET GO OF ME!”

“Head shots, don’t waste ammo! Jam the damn barrels in their mouths if you have to!”

“HELP ME!” To my left, two zombies had a hold of a SHIELD soldier, and were trying to pull her over the barricade, where hundreds of hands reached for her. I dashed over, one hand grabbing her ammo harness while the other fired a spread of level three’s into the horde. They clawed at my forearm as I pulled her backwards, yanking her away from the grabbing fingers.

“Are you...” was all I could get out before she had pulled her pistol out of her holsters, firing at the horde.

“Bastards,” she screamed, bullets ripping in the horde. I stood beside her, sending blast after blast after blast. “You bastards killed my family! Come on! Come on! Come and get it, baby! Come on! I don’t got all day! Come on! Come on! Come on! Come on, you too! Oh, you want some of this? Screw you!”

If you’re looking for a kill count, you weren’t going to get one. At point blank-range, level one blasts were enough to drop a zombie. My forearms were aching soon enough, but I kept putting out vibrations, scrambling the brains of any ghoul dumb enough to get in my way. The bodies of the dead began to pile up on the barricades, slumped over the obstructions, and they kept coming. They tried to use the fallen corpses as steps, and we shot them out of mid-air as they tried to fling themselves at us, and they kept coming. I heard Ares call that he only had two minutes of ammunition left, and they kept coming. I heard Deadpool sing “Call Me” by Blondie in a voice higher than Debbie Harry’s, and they kept coming.

Until, they didn’t.

“Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!” A few more shots went over the barricade before the firing stopped. The last thing to go quiet was the smoking barrel of one of the Vulcans, its whine slowly dying down, the barrels white-hot from thousands and thousands of rounds of ammunition.

Clink.

Ares dropped both miniguns. They landed on of the pile of brass shells that had accumulated around his and Ms. Marvel’s feet during the siege. He kicked the spent casings aside as he stepped forward, surveying the battlefield. At his feet, a zombie still moved forward, its lower jaw and half its face blown off. It clutched at Ares’ ankle for a moment, before the God of War lifted his boot and smashed the thing’s skull like an overripe melon.

“It’s a start,” he proclaimed.

It was Jonestown mixed with Tom Savini’s best work. Countless bodies were scattered across what was once lush green grass, many of them missing heads or limbs. The carnage spread from at the very foot of the barricades almost to the treeline. And still, bodies twitched, continuing to moan even as their spines, bones, and limbs were shattered beyond repair.

“My God,” I whispered. “I’ve never seen...this must...this is what Stalingrad was like, wasn’t it? Wave after wave...”

“Aye. Being on the giving end of such punishment is always better than the alternative...”

“OH MY GOD! HERE THEY COME AGAIN!”

The soldier was pointing to the treeline. They were coming again, spilling from between the trunks. Before the new group of zombies, the field of their dead brethren wasn’t a deterrence. It was a sign, that humans had caused this slaughter, and that was all that matters. Humans.

“STEADY YOURSELF, WOMAN!” Ares turned to the soldier, a harsh glare in his eyes. “We have broken the vanguard. What comes to you now will come as a gentle rain, not as the mighty deluge. Reload, reacquire, and be ready to fire when they are within range. Colonel Nick Fury trained you, woman. Recall that fact.”

Ms. Marvel stepped in front of Ares. She rubbed one arm as she gave him a withering stare. “Ares, how much ammo do you have left for those things?”

“Not enough,” he replied. “And the barrels are nearly useless from the heat.” Under his mask, I could see an evil grin as he reached over his shoulder, grabbing his mighty war axe. “We will have to do that the old fashioned way.”

“I am SO up for that challenge!” Deadpool had slid next to Ares and Ms. Marvel. In both hands, he held a katana blade, the weapon of choice for wannabe posers and skilled assassins everywhere. “You get an achievement if you use nothing but melee weapons for an entire campaign! Hey, Mars, I got two hundred and eighty seven kills last round. How many did you kill?”

“Over nine thousand,” Ares responded, his voice almost bored.

“WHAT? NINE THO...”

Everyone winced at the cracking noise as Ares casually backhanded Deadpool across the face. He staggered away, holding his jaw, screeching loudly.

“Do not make that joke in my presence.”

“I washen choken,” Deadpool replied. He twisted his head to one side, and as I watched, he slammed his jaw to the opposite side. “Ow! Ok, ok, no more Internet jokes. Play those clichés off, keyboard cat!”

“What are we going to do?” I ignored the humming of Deadpool as I stepped up to two of the most powerful beings on the planet. “That was just the tip of the iceberg. The entire New York City horde is pouring into the Park. No offense, Ares, but I don’t think even the God of War can take on hundreds of thousands of zombies without getting bitten.”

“You are right, Herman.”

“I am?”

“Yes. The wise soldier knows when to call in reinforcements. And that time is now.” Ares tapped one of the silver studs on his leather harness. “Ares to Iron Patriot. The landing zone is now clear.”

“The landing zone?” Ms. Marvel looked at me, and all I could do was shrug my shoulders before she turned to Ares. “What do you mean, the landing zone?”

“What he means, Ms. Marvel,” Deadpool said, “is that. Look in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

“Spider-Man?!?” I spun around, looking to where Deadpool was pointing. Swinging from the trees behind us, I could make out the familiar form of Spider-Man coming towards us. “Oh, there he is,” I said, relief flooding me at the sight. “I thought he was...”

That wasn’t Spider-Man. Oh, yeah, a few years ago, it would have been. The web-slinger that landed in front of us wore a familiar costume, but no one associated it with Spider-Man, even though he had been the first guy to wear it. The costume was associated with someone else now, someone a LOT more dangerous than Spider-Man. Punisher levels of dangerous.

He took up, muscles rippling under sleek black skin, the spider-emblem on his chest stark white against the darkness. “Ares,” a hissing growl said. “Looks like we missed out on the party...”

“Venom? VENOM?!?” Ms. Marvel jabbed a finger at Mac Gargan, the former Scorpion and current Venom. “HE’S your reinforcements?"

“Part of them.” Ares nodded towards Venom. “Where are the others?”

“Right behind me. I had to get here first, just to see the look on blondie’s face here.” The smile on Venom’s face almost reached his ears, the long tongue resting against sharp teeth. “You just look so dumbfounded right now, Ms. Marvel.”

“I do not see the problem, Ms. Marvel. After all, the Shocker stands by your side, an able combatant. Yet you don’t seem to mind his criminal past.”

“That’s because Venom is a psychopath!”

“I’m standing right here!” Venom turned to me, that grin getting bigger somehow. “Herman! I can’t believe you’re still alive. You have more lives than the Black Cat.”

“Gargan,” I said. “I was wondering where you ended up.”

“Where else? On the winning si...”

“No, Mac. No, don’t say that, please.”

“Who else do you have coming?” Ms. Marvel pointed towards the zombies. This horde was spread out, not as dense as the last mob, but they were steadily advancing. “Because they’re still coming, and we need to regroup and get this firing line set back up!”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Marvel,” a robotic voice spoke from above us. “The Avengers are here to take care of this.”

And then it got really weird.

The first one I saw, obviously, was Moonstone. She was descending from the sky, feet first, almost the splitting image of Ms. Marvel, down to the long blonde hair (Moonstone’s wasn’t as blonde as Ms. Marvel’s) and killer body. You have to respect a woman who wears a long sleeved top and damn near nothing on the rest of her body save a red scarf. She was a former criminal, and then a former-reformed criminal when she joined up with the Thunderbolts, with almost the same powers as Ms. Marvel, save for the ability to go intangible. Oh, and she was also a master at mental manipulation, able to get schlubs like me dancing to her tune. I mean, hell, she wears a red scarf. You don’t think she’s used it to tie men up? See? Right there, not one word from her and already I’m drooling a bit.

I didn’t recognize the man she was carrying, a young man of Japanese heritage with a top knot ponytail and tattoos running down his arms.

And I kind of recognized the metal suit also coming down from the air next to Moonstone. But I didn’t know when Iron Man got a star-spangled suit of armor.

The final guy, hopping off the back of the guy in the metal suit, I instantly recognized. “Huh,” I said, crossing my arms as all four of the newcomers approached our merry little band. “The Punisher said he killed you out on Riker’s. I don’t know why I believed him.”

“You know me,” Bullseye said, a grin on his face. “I never miss. Sometimes, the Punisher does.”

“Situation report, Ares,” the man in the power armor said.

“The back has been broken of this incursion,” the God of War told him. “But the enemy still approaches. With all of us here, the battle will be easily won.”

“Good. I see the M61’s worked like you had predicted. Venom, Moonstone. I want you two to strengthen these barricades into something proper. Bullseye, Ares, I want you two to get these soldiers ready. Set up firing lanes and get these people proper weapons. Daken, make sure everyone’s properly motivated. I want no fear in the hearts of any of these soldiers.”

The Japanese man grunted, turning away and heading towards the nearest group of SHIELD members. Everyone else was soon following the instructions of the metal man, calmly going about execution as the zombie horde advanced, slowed down by the carnage of the battlefield, but still making their way towards West Drive.

“Oh, and you,” the man said, waving a dismissive hand towards the waiting Deadpool. “There were zombies heading towards some civilians who had fled towards the south of the park. Go keep them safe.”

“The ghouls or the civvies?”

The metal man turned to face Deadpool, causing the loudmouth to just throw up his hands. “Fine, ok. I’ll go play a good guy. What the hell. I owe it to the people for ‘Marvel Zombies 3’ and ‘Marvel Zombies 4’ anyway.” Deadpool walked past Ms. Marvel and I, slamming a new clip into his assault rifle. “You two kids be good. And I mean it. If I come back and find out this story’s been re-rated ‘M’ for adult situations, I’m going to be insanely, insanely jealous.”

“What the hell...” I said as he strode away, whistling.

“Trust me. It’s Deadpool. You’ll go nuts trying to figure him out.” Ms. Marvel and I turned, facing the final newcomer. “Alright. I heard Ares say your name was the Iron Patriot. So who the hell are you, really?”

With a hiss of hydraulics, the mask opened, pulling apart to reveal a smirking face. “I’m the savoir of humanity. Who else,” Norman Osborn replied.

*****

For once, I didn’t pause. “You son of a bitch,” I cried, bringing my hand back...

“No, Herman!” Ms. Marvel caught my hand, locking it in place. Even though the tight grip, I kept trying to slug Osborn, who simply sat there in his suit of armor with a smug look on his face.

“Come on! Everyone's been making me their bitch all week! One damn punch, that’s all I’m asking!”

“No!” She spun me around, holding me by my wrist. She dragged me so her face was inches from mine. “Damn it, the man’s in a suit of power armor. Odds are, he’d vaporize you in a second!”

“That man killed my best friend!”

“Allegedly,” Osborn replied smoothly.

I almost broke free, but Marvel was holding me tight. Any other time, any other place, I would have been incredibly turned on. “Osborn, start talking, or else I will let Schultz loose.”

“That’s supposed to be a threat?” Osborn shook his head. “This is my team, Ms. Marvel. The new...well, I said Avengers earlier, but due to changing circumstances, let’s call them the all-new, all-different Thunderbolts. I was going to introduce them in a few months as...well, part of the Initiative program, but obviously, the current situation has caused a change of plans.”

“Those guys?” I pointed to where Bullseye was helping to sight a .50 caliber machine gun. “He’s a psychopath! And Venom’s a psychopath!”

“And Moonstone isn’t exactly the most stable woman either,” Ms. Marvel chimed in.

“Yes. Well...common criminal,” Osborn said, pointing towards me. “Reformed criminal,” he said, pointing at himself. “And let’s not forget the Trapster, who I have working a unit on the south end of the park. At this point in humanity’s defense, there are no more shades of gray, Ms. Marvel, only black and white. Now, my plan,” he continued, “is to set up a defensive line here. The rest of the externals barriers are holding, and the horde of undead are flowing in this direction. My Thunderbolts will hold the line, protecting the civilians and attempting to seal the breech once the numbers have been thinned out. You and the Shocker should fly back to the portal and attempt to help your fellow Avengers. If you can’t rescue Doctor Strange, then it will be up to the Thunderbolts to save the day.”

“That’s what you want, Osborn. Isn’t it?” I rubbed my wrist where Ms. Marvel had held me back. “To save the day and punctuate that final point on how good you’ve become.”

“Hardly. I want to save the day, Herman, because I’m a friend of humanity. Now, the longer you stand here and prattle at me, the worse off your new friends at the portal will be. I suggest you hurry back.”

He was right. Oh, how I hated that he was right. I leveled a finger at him. Cliché, yes. But I meant every word I was about to say. “When this is all said and done, Norman, we will talk about what you did to Aleksei and what you tried to do with me. Bank on it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will be talking to you again, Herman. Now, go.” Osborn’s helmet sealed back up as he turned to the barricade. “Ares, they’re within three hundred yards...”

“Herman...let’s go.” Ms. Marvel took my hands, putting them on her shoulders before leaping into the air. We sailed over the abandoned refugee camp, the SHIELD soldiers using it as a makeshift readying area for the next stage of the siege.

“He killed Aleksei,” I said to Ms. Marvel. “I’m not lying.”

“I believe you, Herman. But those things were getting closer. Having a knock down fight with Norman Osborn, especially with...those new Thunderbolts, was going to do nothing more than waste precious time and probably get you and a whole lot of SHIELD soldiers killed.” We headed towards the red glow to our north, the portal still giving off that blood-red light. “Once this is all said and done, I promise there will be an investigation. But for now, we have bigger fish to fry. And as much as it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, we need them to hold the line. We can’t get distracted. Grim Reaper’s the key to this whole mess. He's the one we need to beat.”

“I'm all for that. I just wish we had even more firepower. Where the hell's the Sentry? He'd tear those things apart without even breaking a damn sweat.”

“Sentry's out on Long Island. He went out with the Fantastic Four earlier today. Said being around zombies unnerved him for some reason.”

I couldn't help but laugh. “Wow, yeah, because the rest of us are RIGHT at home fighting the living dead.”

“Trust me, we've all learned that...the Sentry needs a little bit of extra care,” Ms. Marvel said with a smirk. “He's got more self-esteem problems them most of you former criminals.”

“MS. MARVEL! SHOCKER!”

“Gah!” I would have launched a blast in surprise if I hadn't been clutching to Ms. Marvel's shoulders. She came to a halt, hovering in place, as a floating face appeared directly on front of us. It was a faint, ghostly image, but the outlines of Doctor Strange's features were clearly visible.

“I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME. DORMAMMU IS RELENTL...” Strange's voice was powerful, but it fell in volume at times, like a cell phone with a poor connection. “THE DARKHOLD IS THE KEY TO STOPP......STLESS DEAD. IT IS CURRENTLY...BARON MORDO...PEAT, MORDO. FIND THE DARK...”

The image suddenly cut off, empty air where Strange's face had been moments before. I looked over Ms. Marvel's shoulder at her as I asked, “you catch any of that?”

“I think so. Something about the Darkhold, and how Baron Mordo probably has it.”

“Sounds about right...”

“Hey, I used to crack codes for a living. I've made sound decisions on much less information.”

In the near distance, the red portal swirled angrily. Up here, we could hear the sounds of combat, with blue, white, silver, and yellow flashes lightning up the immediate area. Behind us, faintly, the sounds of gunfire as the Thunderbolts began their fight at the barricade. And there we were, hanging in the air, stuck in the middle.

“Well,” I asked, “what're your instincts telling you?”

“That's easy, Herman. We go after this Darkhold. You said the Grim Reaper waited to make his move until he had possession of it. If Doctor Strange says it's important, and I think he said it'll stop the dead...that's the clincher.”

I nodded in agreement, but said, “I'm just playing Devil's Advocate here...what about the fight down at the portal? If they're still going at it, the Avengers could use your...our,” I corrected myself. It still wasn't something I was used to saying. “They could use our help.”

She shook her head, tangled strands swishing back and forth with the motion. “If they needed out help, they would have called for it by now. They’ve handled the Grim Reaper before, they can do it again. Besides, this is more important. It's like fighting a whole bunch of robots when you could just try to flip the switch and shut them all down.”

I nodded. “I'm with you. Just making sure we're not missing an angle. And I don't see one we're overlooking.”

“There is one problem, Herman...where the hell's Mordo? He could be anywhere in the city.”

“No...” I said. “He'd have to be nearby. Otherwise, he could have just stayed in St. Patrick's and...I don't know, worked whatever spell or ritual or whatever.”

“Well, there's a lot of nearby...” She paused. “Ok, let's start at someplace obvious. Hang on.” She spun in mid-air, and soon, we were flying south. To one side, the flashes of battle were evident as the Thunderbolts held the line against the next wave of zombies. Still numerous, the horde pressing towards the barricades were spread out a lot more, moving forward of their own accord and not because of the pressing weight behind them. “That red energy that made the barricades disappear, it was definitely magical, and probably powerful if it just made those walls vanish. Maybe Mordo was nearby when he...”

“The museum.” I pointed over her shoulder to the pile of stone jutting out from Central Park's west side. “It happened right there. Hell, there's probably enough relics and antiques in that place...it would be like an engineer let loose in a junk yard. All that old stuff in some of those exhibits...”

“It's as good a place to start as any.” She banked, bringing our flight path directly over the horde still streaming past the museum. They still came from the north and the south, the barricades guiding them to the massive hole in the defenses of Central Park. I couldn’t see the end of the line in either direction, the undead stretching as far as my eyes could see. Too damn many. If the Thunderbolts held the firing line in the face of this steady onslaught, it would be miraculous.

We landed on the roof, Ms. Marvel setting us down on the brand new terrace that had just opened up in September. Leafless trees, wilting plants, and long tables greeted us as we walked around the central pool of the terrace. “It’s still like looking for a needle in a haystack,” I said as we walked towards the north end of the terrace. Behind us was a glass cube, surrounding a large blue sphere that, during normal operating hours, held a spectacular 3-D narrated by Jodie Foster about the Big Bang and the history of the universe. I had seen it the year before with Speed Demon and Blizzard. Normally bathed in blue light, the sphere was a shadowy orb in the lightless cube. “This place is huge, not to mention a damn maze. If we’re wrong, we’ve wasted a lot of time.”

“Then hope we’re not wrong. You should try being more of an optimist, Herman.”

“I’m more of a realist. My optimism comes in the form of delusion.”

There was only one way into the museum from the terrace, a seasonal entrance that closed up right after the big opening night party a month previous. “They sealed this place up and set the alarms when Osborn closed off the park,” Ms. Marvel told me. Everyone says you’re a wizard at locks. Think you can get us inside?”

I studied the door for a moment, before looking up at the walls surrounding the door. The light from the security sensor was visible, running on backup power. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can. Shouldn’t take too long.”

I reached out, and grasped the door handle. It easily swung open without any resistance. “Ta da.”

“What...how did you do that?”

“The door’s unlocked. And,” I said, nodding to the green light on the alarm sensor, “the alarm system is on standby. Which probably means someone’s inside already.”

“That’s a promising sign.”

“Damn right. After you,” I said, waving my hand at the open door as I held it for her.

“Huh. Who would have thought you had manners?” Ms. Marvel stepped inside the planetarium, and I quickly followed, letting the door shut behind me. Dim emergency lightning was the only illumination, shining on the various exhibits that lined the hallway.

“So,” I said in a low, quiet voice, “where the hell do we start?”

After a second of thought, Ms. Marvel pointed down the hallway. “Let’s go to the Rotunda. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Mordo’s sitting right under the statue of Teddy Roosevelt. If not, we’ll just have to search the museum and hope we get lucky.”

She moved like a cat, easy, quiet strides you wouldn’t expect from someone so powerful. I followed right behind, moving quickly, steps silent like I was breaking into the joint. Casing a place like the Museum of Natural History was every burglar’s dream, and Lord knows we passed a few gemstones and relics that would have pulled a damn fortune to certain interested buyers. But the security on a place like this was almost on par with Avengers Tower. And here we were, quietly waltzing through the museum after hours.

We reached the rotunda without any problems. The wide balconies overlooked the lobby of the museum, officially known as the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Hall. From up here, we could see the soft lights shining on the various exhibits to the former President. And while it wasn’t directly related, there was some small bit of irony to the fact that the Roosevelt Hall held a complete skeleton of a Brontosaurus. The long neck of the dinosaur reached towards the roof, almost meeting the railing of the second story balcony.

“Well,” I said, “he’s not under the Brontosaurus.”

“No...but do you see that?” Ms. Marvel leaned over the railing, pointing down from where we stood. “That’s not emergency lighting, is it?”

“Nope,” I said as I saw what she was pointing at. “That sure as hell ain’t.” I stepped around the rotunda’s balcony, trying to get a better glimpse. From the large hall directly opposite the main entrance to the museum, green light spilled through the open doorway, illuminating the dark lobby. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ms. Marvel,” I told her as she walked next to me, “but that’s the same color green the portal was before everything went to hell, isn’t it?”

“The final piece of the puzzle,” the blonde mused. “Come on, let’s check it out...”

“I can hear you talking.” The voice was crisp and concise as it came from downstairs. “I’ve heard you ever since you landed on the terrace. Please, come downstairs and let us discuss matters face-to-face.”

“You know,” I sighed, “I don’t like this new idea of civil bad guys. I prefer getting the drop of some poor sap. It’s always worked for me.” I turned to walk down the steps, but instead, Ms. Marvel grabbed me by the waist, and hopped over the railing, holding me tightly against her. I must have become an upstanding citizen, because I held back on the naughty thoughts until we were almost to the first floor. We landed in front of the doorway, any efforts at stealth thrown out the window.

The Hall of North American Mammals had long been a centerpiece of the Museum of Natural History. The stuffed and mounted animals around the hall were prime examples of North American ecology. Any kid who’s ever been on a field trip to the museum (and that’s every kid in the New York public school system, including myself) remembers the jaguars from Mexico, the bighorn sheep from Canada, and the wild buffalo from the Great Plains, each one set against a stunning landscape diorama. The exhibits were awash in a gentle green glow, eminating from a portal floating in the middle of the room. It was smaller than the one Doctor Strange had opened, but it shared the same characteristics, down to the counter-clockwise swirl.

Below the portal, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee sat in the lotus position. He wore a green outfit, complete with a green cape that fell below his legs towards the floor. The top of his cape ended in two long, curved points that extended well above his shoulder, ending just past the top of his head. In his lap, was a thick book, its pages worn and yellowed with time. It lay open, floating just above his thighs.

As Ms. Marvel and I approached him, the man opened his eyes. Against the soft green light, the blood red orbs stood out instantly. He gave the two of us a tight smile. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.” He gave me a curt nod. “Herman Schultz.” He then gave another nod to Ms. Marvel. “Carol Danvers. Welcome to my sanctum. Since you do not have the pleasure, Herman, allow me to introduce myself. I am Baron Karl Amadeus Mordo.”

“Another Baron. Is Dormammu just handing out titles like there’s no tomorrow?”

“Actually, Herman, Mordo’s a real Baron. Romanian, right?”

“Transylvanian, actually, Ms. Marvel. Don’t believe those pretenders who have claimed the title of Baron. They simply wished to believe themselves equal to me.”

“For someone who’s feeling superior, your boss sure stationed you in the ass end of nowhere,” I pointed out.

“Look at it this way, Shocker,” Mordo replied. “Any fool can throw themselves at the Avengers and be beaten. But a wise man throws someone else at the Avengers while, in another location, the true plan is unraveled. Misdirection and subterfuge, two topics I am sure you are familiar with.”

“Strange was right,” Ms Marvel added. “The portal’s just the end result. You’re the key, whatever it is you’re planning.”

“Of course. Who else would be trusted with ensuring my master’s plan comes to fruition but his most trusted servant?”

“So, the Grim Reaper...”

“...is nothing but a patsy, Herman.” Baron Mordo nodded towards the book on his lap. “I am, as always, Dormammu’s chosen. Not Eric Williams. Certainly not that two-bit crime lord Parker Robbins. Suggesting that the Hood be the initial sacrifice, if I may be so bold, was a true stroke of genius on my part. The Grim Reaper is nothing more than a pawn who believes he can become a king. And, perhaps he can. But he shall never be my equal in the eyes of the Dread Lord.”

“It’s like the mob. Everyone’s backstabbing each other to gain favor in the Godfather’s eyes,” I reckoned.

“Astute analogy, Herman. It is a shame that you turned down the Reaper’s offer. Your body was unmarked by a physical sign of death. You could have lived forever and maybe become a faithful comrade and a worthy opponent for Dormammu’s attention.”

“Yeah, well...we’re here for the Darkhold.” I took a step forward, my hands clenched into fists. You know this was going to break down into a fight, and I was going to be ready for it. “So, whatever it is, just hand it over and Ms. Marvel and I won’t have to smack you around like we’ve done with the rest of your master’s cronies.”

“Ah. So this is where I’m supposed to tell you what the Darkhold does and spill to you all my plans? Very well.” Mordo reached out and put one hand, palm down, on the book in front of him. “Splendid piece of literature, this thing. Spells and rituals dating back to before recorded history, written down by the planet’s first practitioner of black magic. The first vampire was spawned from these pages during the time when Atlantis was on the surface of the ocean. Empires you’ve never heard of and heroes you couldn’t imagine fought against the evil that this book has brought forth. And now, it will bring about the end of the human race, and herald Dormammu’s dominion over this planet.”

“So it’s the Anarchist’s Cookbook, for magicians,” I asked.

“Crude, but appropriate.”

“Well, whatever it is, Mordo, you ain’t supposed to have it. Don’t suppose I could ask you to hand it over one more time, save us a whole lot of time and trouble?”

He shook his head. “I cannot do that.”

“At least tell us what the hell that damn book does,” Ms. Marvel offered from the back. “I hate chasing McGuffins. That thing has a purpose. What does it do, Mordo?”

“The proper question is, what doesn’t it do? It allows one to raise the dead. It allows one to control the dead. And, when properly combined with an infection from another dimension, it allows one to raise and control the dead on a massive scale. Why do you think all the zombies ended up in Central Park? Why do you think, all around the world, sanctuaries and so-called rescue stations were easily overwhelmed? There is an instinct for flesh, Ms. Marvel. And this book allows that instinct to be nurtured, tamed, and driven to a sole purpose. An entire global horde, Ms. Marvel, all under my command, following my orders.”

“So, it’s the switch to control all the robots. Looks like you were right, Ms. Marvel.”

“Hand the book over, Mordo.” Ms. Marvel strode forward, passing me. She had her fists clenched as well, and steel in his voice. “This ends. This zombie uprising ends. Now.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Mordo’s voice said with mocking disdain. “Do you really think someone as wise and as powerful as me would put himself out in the open without someone to watch over him? Now, please forgive me. The hour is getting late, and I’ve taken too much time.” Mordo closed his eyes, and his lips began to move, silently chanting a prayer or a ritual under his breath.

“Your funer...”

Before Ms. Marvel could finish her threat, something slammed into her from behind. She was propelled forward, zooming by Baron Mordo before landing in a heap on the tile floor, bouncing a few more feet before coming to a stop against the rear wall of the exhibit.

I was holding down the triggers even as I was turning. The level-three blasts splashed harmlessly off my target. As I register my totally lack of impact, something big impacted against my side, flinging me backwards. I sailed through the air, landing at the feet of a stuffed jaguar. “Alright, pal,” I sneered, pulling myself back to my feet, “you just screwed with the...”

Gray skin. A powerful frame. I knew who it was in an instant. And all the bravado fell away, replaced by crushing despair.

“Oh, no,” I choked out in a whisper. “Oh, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening...no...”

“I’m sorry, Herman,” Aleksei said. He stared at me with red eyes, blood seeping from the gaping hole in his body armor. “I’m really, really sorry. But you didn’t leave me a choice.”

I hit the moose stomach first. I hung on the stuffed exhibit, trying to catch my breath, holding on for dear life as a massive gray hand grabbed the back of my neck.

“I tried so hard not to come back, Herman.” Aleksei held me in the air for a moment. “I really did. You have to believe that. I did everything I could to stay dead.” With a grunt of effort, he drove me into the tile floor face-first. I felt the blood flow from my nose as he lifted me back up, and slammed me back down. “It was so dark, Herman. And so cold. I’ve never, ever been that cold before. I couldn’t grab onto anything. It...it kept pulling at me.”

He let go of me. I tried to crawl away, but a massive foot drove into the small of my break. I screamed in pain as Aleksei applied pressure to my spine. “I resisted. I screamed, but no one could hear me roar, even myself. And the whole time, that urge kept pulling at me, Herman. I was hungry, and getting hungrier. I’ve never been that hungry. I knew, I just knew, if I opened my eyes, I’d have a chance to stop being hungry. I knew what that meant, Herman.”

I felt the foot lift off my back, but it soon booted me in the side, causing me to roll over and curl into a ball. The pain was incredible. The mental anguish...this was my best friend. This couldn’t...no way. It can’t be.

“You know what that meant. But I wasn’t going to be a zombie. No way. I wasn’t going to be walking around like that. The harder I fought, Herman, the hungrier I became. You have to understand that. I tried not to, but it just got to be too much. I had to give in, Herman. If I didn’t...I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Aleksei...” I choked out between breaths.

“Then he reached out a hand to me. I had to take it, Herman. If I didn’t, I’d become one of those things. And I didn’t want that. Neither did you. I took the Grim Reaper’s hand. It was the only choice I could make.”

Aleksei grabbed me again, lifting me up from my armpits. “I’m dead, Herman. But I’m not hungry anymore. The Grim Reaper made sure of that.” With a yell, Aleksei threw me over his head. I crashed into the floor back first, right on my tailbone. My back arched in pain, my hand going to my ass, as Aleksei turned and strode over to where I lay.

“And he explained a few things to me, Herman.” He towered over me, all eight feet of him, staring down. Blood dripped from the jagged hole that Osborn’s explosion had torn into his body armor. “Everything you and I did over the past week. It’s what led to Norman Osborn noticing me. It’s what led to Osborn killing me. It’s what led to me coming back like this. And it’s all your fault. You wanted to play a hero, Herman. It got you all the glory. And it got me killed.”

“No...I didn’t...”

Aleksei lifted one huge foot, slowly bringing over my face. His face took on an angry glare, as he reared back to smash my head into the ground...

She streaked from across the room, catching Aleksei off-balance, driving her shoulder into his sternum. Aleksei stumbled backwards, before falling to the ground. The exhibits all around the hall shook slightly at the impact. He rolled around, trying to use his arms to stand back up, and in that time, Ms. Marvel had grabbed me by the forearms and flown out of the hall. In the museum’s lobby, she raced up to the top landing of the rotunda, soaring past the hanging banners to land us on the third floor. She set me down, and I immediately slumped against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. I was in shock, just numb, as the universe decided to cock the ultimate “screw with Herman” shotgun, and load it with the undead body of my best friend.

“Damn it,” I barely heard Ms. Marvel grouse. “The Rhino. That complicates things.”

“Oh, Herman.” His voice sounded like gravel rolling down a rocky hillside as it called up to us. “You got an Avenger to come help you, and it’s not even one of the good ones. Herman and Marvel, sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g...”

“I have to call this in. We’re gonna need backup.” Ms. Marvel reached for her belt, before getting a confused look on her face. “Do not tell me I lost my communicator...Herman.” She sounded so far away, a tinny voice in my ear. “Herman,” Ms. Marvel hissed, “do you still have my communicator?”

Mechanically, I pulled out the device from my belt. A trembling hand held it out to her. She snatched it, and quickly snapped the communicator open. “Ms. Marvel to any Avenger. Ms. Marvel to any Avenger. Come in. Anyone.” After a few seconds of silence, she spoke again. “Ms. Marvel to any Avenger, I’m at the Museum of Natural History. Need backup, quickly.” When no one responded, she shoved the device back into its holder on her belt. “Nothing. Either we’re being jammed, or no one can get to their phone.”

“...then comes Blondie with the baby carriage!” Aleksei chuckled as he finished the song. “You two might as well just go home. I’m not letting you anywhere near Baron Mordo.” The familiar sound of him cracking his knuckles filled the lobby. “But you’re more than welcome to try.”

Ms. Marvel turned from the balcony, kneeling down beside me. “Herman, you know what the Rhino is capable off better than anyone else. We need a plan to get past him and get the Darkhold away from Mordo.”

Plan? Aleksei could go toe-to-toe with the Hulk, and we barely beat the green giant with a whole contingent of Avengers...

“Herman? Earth to Herman, come in Herman.”

My vibro-blasts would roll right off of him. Ms. Marvel maybe could crack the dermal plating given enough time, but Aleksei could probably swat her around without breaking a sweat...

That’s when she hauled off and smacked me.

I felt it through my face’s padding as my head swung to the side. “Ow,” I muttered. I would have been a little more forceful with my protest, save for the fact it really hurt to move my jaw at the moment. “What the hell, lady?”

“Listen up, Schultz, because I only have time to say this once.” She pointed at the floor. “Down there, below us, that’s not your friend. That’s not the Aleksei you knew yesterday. It’s a zombie, a zombie wearing the skin and armor of the Rhino. It’s not Aleksei. It’s the Rhino. It’s not your friend, it’s a damn corpse. So find your focus and help me fight, because the only way we’re going to get at the Darkhold and stop the end of the world is by going through him.”

Some people think the best way to get through to someone is by getting inches from their face and screaming. Ms. Marvel was the opposite, speaking softly, not yelling, just stating everything as quickly and as clearly as she could. And that’s what got through to me.

I put my hand out. She grabbed it and quickly helped me to my feet. “Alright,” she said in a low voice. “Welcome back to planet Earth. What do we do?”

“I...ok,” I said, taking a breath. “It’s not just the suit that’s made him tough. Aleksei’s had that thing for so long, the chemicals have seeped into his skin. He’s just as tough as the Hulk and we don’t have Hydro-Man to go for the brain this time out. Pounding on him doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of taking him down in time...especially if he can regenerate like the rest of the Reaper’s minions. Punisher blew Black Talon’s head off, and he just grew it right back.”

“So you’re saying we can’t take him out ourselves.”

“Not the two of us, no. Not directly. Look what it took for us to stop the Hulk, and we don't have Spider-Man and Thor this time. Damn it...I can't believe I'm missing the web head.” I sighed, closing my eyes. “Alright, we do this. I can distract him. You fly in and deal with Mordo.”

“Herman...no,” Ms. Marvel replied. “You’re not powerful enough to...”

“You think I don’t know that!” I snapped at her, causing her eyes to narrow a little bit as she recoiled. “I know more about Aleksei than you do, and you know more about Mordo than I do. It’s like you said before...me fighting Osborn would have been a waste of time. Trying to fight Aleksei would be a waste of time as well. If I can snag Aleksei's attention, it’ll let you get a shot at taking out Mordo, grabbing the Darkhold, and flying us both out of here.”

I saw the skepticism on her face, and tried to smile under my mask. “Hey, it’s a stupid plan that’s going to get me killed. But you said so yourself, the Darkhold and stopping the Grim Reaper are the big things on the menu. This plan is the best I could come up with on really freakin’ short notice, Ms. Marvel.” I paused for a second. “This is where I’m supposed to say ‘trust me,’ right?”

“Oh yeah, this plan’s definitely going to work now.” She shook her head. “You’re right. Let’s do it. Just don’t get yourself killed, Shocker. I’m beginning to like you.”

That statement lifted my sagging spirits a little. “I’m beginning to like myself too.” I spun away, standing up and leaning over the edge of the balcony. Aleksei was staring up at me, a tight, stupid grin on his face. “Alright, Aleksei. I’m coming down, and we’re going to talk.”

“Talk? Are you out of your damn mind,” I heard Ms. Marvel hiss.

“Hey, it’ll distract him,” I answered without moving my lips. “Trust me, and I’m saying that non-ironically.” I walked to the steps, and slowly made my down from the top of the Rotunda. I did my best to always keep a wary eye on Aleksei, and he never took his gaze off me. His massive arms hung at his sides, gray fists clenched. I lost track of Ms. Marvel as I descended, keeping my focus on Aleksei the whole time.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps. Across from me, just outside the door to the Hall of North American Mammals, Aleksei was backlit by the green light generated by whatever ritual Baron Mordo was....casting? Running? I don’t know the proper magical terminology, but the light shined around Aleksei like he was a monster from a bad 1980’s techno-horror movie. We stood, facing each other. I wondered what he saw. There wasn’t much steel in my spine, but I tried to stand up straight. It’s what Ms. Marvel said. What was inside wasn’t the man I knew before.

Yeah, and neither was Electro. Or the Vulture. That didn’t stop me from relating to them.

Aleksei spoke first. “So, Herman, is this where you and I fight?”

“If that’s what you want, Aleksei. I’d prefer a chance to gab first, though.”

“Herman, there isn’t anything to talk about. I’ve got a new group of friends, friends who will watch my back, friends who helped me out when I was dead. I’ve made my call, and it’s a damn easy one.”

“I can’t believe that. Ain't ever heard you talk this way, Aleksei.”

“Well...death changes things, Herman. You can’t look back on your life the same way once you’ve kicked the bucket.” His voice still rumbled like a bass line, but his manner of speaking had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “I know what’s coming. I’ve seen the end. No one’s spared, not even the kids.”

“The old you would never...”

“That’s it, Herman. I’m not the old me. I’m the new me. And I’m the new me because of you.” He jammed two fingers into the wound on his chest. “I’ve been bleeding for the past few hours.” With a large schlurping sound, he pulled them back out. Blood, muscle, and bone oozed over the digits as he held them towards me. “I’ll never stop bleeding, according to Electro. I’ve already pulled out my guts, and they just keep coming back. That’s the price for living, Herman. I have to deal with this pain, this...sensation for the rest of days. I could blame it on Osborn. He was the guy who pulled the trigger. But he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger if you hadn’t put the two of us in his crosshairs.” I could hear the gentle tapping of blood hitting the tile floor as he pointed the red fingers at me. “And you were the one who got away.”

“Aleksei...Osborn tried to kill me too. He had Peter poison me and shove me out of a helicopter. The Grim Reaper rescued me...Osborn, Aleksei,” I said, a small pleading note sliding into my voice. “He tried to kill both us.”

“He tried to kill you, Herman. He killed me. And do you know what the worst part is? Osborn’s still alive.”

Pause.

“NORMAN OSBORN IS STILL ALIVE, HERMAN!” Aleksei started to walk towards me, away from the doorway to the Hall of North American Mammals. “My murderer is walking around, breathing, and you just let that slide!”

One massive hand reached out, slapping away a glass case full of butterflies. The exhibit shattered against the floor as he came at me. “You had how many shots to kill him? You couldn’t have found all this vaunted courage and heroic drive to pull yourself up and put a blast in his face?”

“I...” My mouth wouldn’t open. “I tried...”

“NO! NO, YOU DIDN’T, HERMAN! YOU CAME SO CLOSE TO KILLING THE TRAPSTER FOR A MILLION BUCKS, BUT WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND DIES, SUDDENLY YOUR MORALITY COMES INTO PLAY? MONEY MEANS MORE TO YOU THAN MY FRIENDSHIP EVER DID!”

Behind him, slowly hovering down from the third floor, Ms. Marvel quietly descended through the air. I had Aleksei’s attention, and if I could...just somehow hold it...

“I’m trying to save the damn world,” I tried to yell in anger, but it came out in a normal tone, no matter how much I tried to force volume. “Once this is all over, Aleksei, I promise, Osborn will pay for what he did to you. The bastard's going to get what's coming to him. But damn it, there’s still a world to save...”

“The world to save!” He came to a stop ten feet away from me. Anger like I’d rarely seen was etched on his face. “When did you ever care about the world? You only cared about yourself, and now you want to save it? All that time staying under the radar. You spent more time running away from Spider-Man than fighting him. You went underground to avoid the Scourge of the Underworld! Not anymore, huh? You finally found a way to fill that ego of yours, Herman, and apparently you don’t care who has to die and who gets to live in order to make you feel better about yourself!”

She was just reaching the doorway, and I did my best to keep my eyes on Aleksei so the game didn’t get given away. “You wanted to help people too! You and me, we went out to that 7-11 on the first night to protect everyone trapped inside! You came with me willingly, and we BOTH put our asses on the line!”

“Because I was following you, Herman! You always had my back, you always looked out for me, and I made sure no one ever messed with you!”

I put up my hands. “Stop...just stop screaming, Aleksei. I’m sorry, alright? I’m so sorry. If I had a chance, I'd wish this never had happened, that none of this ever came to pass. It’s not worth it. Only a madman wants the end of the world to make himself look good. This, none of this, isn’t worth the death of the one damn guy I trusted with my back.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Herman. You made your call to be a hero, it got me killed, and then you kept being a hero by letting Osborn walk. That’s reality, and we both have to deal with it. And after Baron Mordo takes care of Ms. Marvel, it’ll just be you and me. Oh, you didn’t think he didn’t notice your puny attempt at distracting me?”

Aleksei turned to one side, motioning to the open doorway. Ms. Marvel floated about five feet off the ground, her hands struggling with the bright green chains that wrapped around her body. “A pitiful attempt at espionage,” Mordo smoothly voiced from the other room as Ms. Marvel’s fingers tried to work between the links of the chain and her neck. “Let us end this farce, quickly.”

The chains tightened, and, with a loud cry from the blonde, Ms. Marvel was yanked into the room. Mordo gestured with one hand towards the green portal floating behind him, and I watched, helpless, as Ms. Marvel was flung through the opening. The light flared for a moment, outlining her buxom figure, before she vanished from sight, leaving only Baron Mordo, still hovering in the lotus position. “And then,” the aristocrat said, “there was one.”

“Not for long, Mordo.” Aleksei’s eyes narrowed, his grin predatory. “Don’t worry, Herman. I’ll make sure you die here on Earth instead of...wherever Ms. Marvel and the others ended up. And because we were friends for so long, I’ll even make sure you stay down for good. It’s the least I could do.”

I responded the only way I could.

“Alright, Aleksei. If that’s what you want. I’ll find a way to put you down for good, even if it means ripping that damn Darkhold apart page by page.” I didn’t have a choice. Ms. Marvel had been right. Aleksei needed stopped, somehow. And then I had to beat Baron Mordo. And then figure out a way to get Ms. Marvel out of that portal. For a second-rate criminal like me, that would have taken a lot of pre-planning, payoffs to the right people, and a whole lot of equipment. For a second-rate hero like me, it’s gonna take a whole lot of improv.

This wasn’t my friend. I had to keep telling myself that, taking those emotions and shoving them in a lockbox. This was a bad guy. This was a mean zombie, just like the Incredible Hulk. This was someone who wanted my head on a platter. I had to take him down. And that’s what heroes did. Pull it out of their ass when push has gone way beyond shove.

Two level-three’s right to the chest, followed by me turning around and hauling ass back up the steps. I could hear the futile impact of my attack as I took the stairs two at a time. His footsteps boomed behind me as Aleksei ran after me. “Oh, you want to make this interesting, Herman? I can do that!”

There was no way I could beat Aleksei in a slugging match. There was no way I could escape Aleksei, since the museum was surrounded by the living dead streaming into Central Park. What I needed right now was some kind of plan, since my last one had gone south almost immediately, leaving me facing off against an undead sorcerer and an undead tank.

On the second floor, I hang the corner hard and fly up the third floor steps, my arms pumping. I could hear my doom coming up behind me, the thump of feet on stairs soon turning into a steady beat. I could imagine him behind me, head lowered, horn out, legs pumping. This is what I was afraid of, a straight line with plenty of room for Aleksei to build up speed, even if it was an incline. I didn’t have a choice at the moment. I don’t think I’ve ever sprinted as hard as I have during my trip to the third floor. I spun around at the top of the steps, grabbing the railing and flinging myself around the corner as quickly and as sharply as possible. My boots gripped the tile floor as I ran forward, crossing the third floor of the rotunda. I risked a glance over my shoulder to see Aleksei’s horn coming up the third flight of stairs. My lungs burned as I crossed the lobby, and trying to see where Aleksei was, I didn’t see the wall in front of me. I slammed into it, bouncing off and landing on my ass.

I scrambled back to my feet. To my right was a hallway leading to the Hall of Asian Mammals. To my left, the wooden and glass door to the museum’s gift shop was closed. I took a second to catch my breath as Aleksei emerged from the dim light on the other end of the rotunda. The emergency lighting cloaked his face in shadow, showing off only his sharp horn and broad outline. I stepped backwards, my body flush against the wall I had just smacked into. “Aleksei...you don’t want to do this,” I stammered out. “Just stop. Please.”

I hated baiting him. Especially since I wanted him to stop. But the look on his face...it was THE Look, the one everyone knows in the superpowered community, the one that says “I am going to come at you with the full thunder and fury and enjoy every minute of it.” Coming from a hero, it means the world’s biggest beat down is coming your way. Coming from a criminal like Aleksei, it means you’re going to the morgue.

With a low roar that sounded like a subway train arriving, Aleksei lowered his horn and began to charge. I pushed away from the wall slightly as he started to run, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Too soon, and he’d just change course and nail me anyway. Too late, and I’d end up a smear, another mural on the wall of this fine museum. Grasp of physics and subconscious calculations, don’t fail me now. Even in the dim light, the sharp tip of his horn glimmered. The painting on a nearby wall jumped with every step as the Rhino charged, intent on running me through, impaling me on that wicked weapon before throwing me to the side, disemboweling me in the process. I had to judge this just right...just right...

About two steps after my body was screaming “MOVE YOU IDIOT MOVE,” I dove to my left, throwing my hands out and firing twin level twos at the gift shop door. The impact knocked it off of its hinges, and I slammed into the shop, knocking the door out of its frame amidst a shower of glass shards and wood splinters. I heard the loud crash behind me as I landed on my stomach. Gasping for breath, I rolled over, seeing what I had wrought.

His horn was buried in the wall to its hilt. The mural was ruined, cracks running from the impact zone all over the surface. Aleksei had both hands flush against the wall, trying to pull himself out. The sucker (I had to think of him this way) had slammed himself all the way to the steel security plating behind the wall. The muscles in his arms flexed under his armor as, gritting his teeth, he shoved backwards. A new crack appeared as he worked on freeing himself.

I moved to just out of his arms reach, and blasted him in the head with a level four from close range. I would have gone with a level five, but the wall would have been caught in the blast as well, making it easier for Aleksei to free himself. I jammed down both triggers, pouring as much vibration into him as possible. Any damage I did to him would just regenerate. I had to scramble his brain, or even shake his skull apart, and pray the time it took for him to grow a second head, I could figure out a way to take down Baron Mordo. The air between us as filled with small explosions, impacting against the side of his head. Over the sounds of my blasts, I could hear Aleksei yell in pain, just like the Hulk had earlier...

The yell became a roar. With a booming crack, the masonry and steel plating gave way as Aleksei yanked the piece of wall he was stuck in away. He staggered back, the wide piece of plaster blocking my view of him. I took a few steps away, raising my gloves to blast the masonry and maybe blind him. Before I could, though, the stone cracked, flying at me in large chunks as Aleksei simply punched his horn free. One piece caught me in the sternum, while a larger piece of the mural smacked me in the forehead. I felt a trickle of blood under my mask as I staggered backwards, stunned momentarily.

The back of Aleksei's hand impacted across the side of my face. One of my crowns came loose in my mouth as I flew backwards, crashing on my side in the middle of the gift shop. “If that was your grand plan, Herman, you're not as smart as I always thought you were,” he said as he turned his body sideways to enter the gift shop. Aleksei flicked the last piece of plaster from his horn as I grabbed the counter to pull myself back to my feet.

“That was improv,” I groaned, just before moving out of the way as a massive fist smashed into the counter, sending glass and knick-knacks everywhere. I spun back around, firing a level three as I stepped backwards. Aleksei followed, a wild roundhouse missing me and instead taking out a stack of museum guidebooks. The shop was a tightly packed series of display stands and clothing racks, and I kept bumping into them as I made my way towards the rear entrance to the shop. Aleksei didn't have that problem, easily smacking the merchandise stands aside as he came after me. I kept blasting, he kept throwing, and it didn't take long for the gift shop to look like a tornado had blown through. I turned for a second to blast open the back entrance, and that's when a steel clothing stand smacked me in the back. I barely felt it through my suit, but it was enough to cause me to stumble out of the shop into the museum's central hallway, and that was enough time for Aleksei to charge forward. His massive frame took out the walls to the side of the gift shop's back door, disintegrating the masonry, and he rammed his shoulder into the small of my back. Propelled through the air, I skidded along the floor when I landed, bouncing off a side wall before I came to a complete stop. The thumping footstep behind me encouraged me to move my ass, but all I could do was roll over before he was on top of me. With one hand, he picked me up by the face, his fingers gripping me tight. I saw red at the edges of my vision as the tips dug into my skull, squeezing me like an overripe tomato.

“I don't have to kill you, Herman. The zombies in the park have done more to kill hope than turning you to the Reaper's side could ever have done. I can have all the fun I want throwing you around like a rag doll, and that's just what I plan to do.”

The red was turning to black as Aleksei flung me over one shoulder. As my vision stopped swimming, he spun around, and charged back through the same gift shop we had destroyed. His arm tucked me tight against his body, preventing me from squirming out. Snow globes and festive alarm clocks broke under Aleksei's feet, the rumbling of his passage knocking even more crap off the walls. The door would normally have been too big for my former friend, but he used my back as a battering ram, shattering the stone-and-glass wall before driving me down, whipping his arm forward and bodyslamming me on the floor. My back protested at the assault, arching off from the floor, as Aleksei ducked down on one knee over me.

Fist cocked back, he drove it down at my head. I could feel the air rushing past my ear as the punch missed, slamming into the floor as I moved out of the way purely by instinct. Stone chips flew into air as Aleksei raised his hand, and I barely managed to avoid another pounding blow, my head whipping to the side as his punch cracked the floor. He threw more blows, each one barely missing. Aleksei's face grew more and more angry, the foundation creaking underneath me with every shot that impacted. “Stay still so I can hit you, Herman,” he growled as he pulled his fist back over his shoulder, winding up for a huge haymaker. Before he could swing, I reached up, grabbing for the ruined armor plate just above his heart. I could feel the sticky warmth of the ruined flesh underneath as I held tightly, using it to quickly pull myself up from the ground. I held down the trigger on my other gauntlet as I swung my fist, going all out as I slammed it into his face, firing off a level-four blast at the moment of impact.

Aleksei didn't roar in pain, but he was stunned for a moment, his fist still pulled back over his shoulder. Like a piston, I pulled my arm back, sacrificing power for speed, and decked him again, letting fly with another level-four that rocked his head back a few inches. I let out with a cry of frustration as my arm acted like a jackhammer, jabbing his face over and over again. His nose crunched, flattening against his face, blood spurting from the point of connection as I broke the bone and cartilage...

His fist finally crashed down as Aleksei let loose a roar of anger, slamming into my sternum. He drove down, shoving me away from his body into the floor. Something may have broken under my suit. It damn sure felt like it, as the next breath I drew was like pulling fire into my lungs. Aleksei kept his hand in place, pinning me to the ground, cutting off my breath as he pushed down on my chest. Blood dripped from his nose, splashing onto my armor, as he let out a low growl. The stone cracked underneath me as he shoved me down, my breastbone barely holding together under the pressure. “You think that hurt me, Herman? It barely scratched me. I'm stone. Immortal. Unbreakable.”

“Yeah,” I gasped. “You might be unbreakable. The floor ain't.”

I balled my fists, and two level-fours exploded from my gauntlets as I slammed them into the floor. His eyes went wide, his fist pulling back to punch me again, but the second time I blasted the floor, the stone cracked, dipping slightly for a second, before gravity took hold. I felt the floor give way. We both fell for a second, the stone and steel underneath managing to stay together and support us, Aleksei stumbling to one knee. And that's where I blasted the floor, right underneath him. The tile gave way, and Aleksei went bye-bye. In a cloud of plaster dust, he disappeared. I could hear a loud boom, as the stairs underneath him gave way, and then an even bigger bang as he hit the floor in the lobby.

My chest ached as I got back to my feet. I was doubled over, trying to breathe normally, when the cracks in the remaining floor got bigger. I quickly stepped away, stumbling over to the balcony's railing overlooking the rotunda. Leaning on it for support, I looked down at the scene below. Aleksei's body was on its back, staring up at the ceiling. His arms were twitching, his legs feebly pawing at the floor. God damn it. I had hoped the fall would have put him down, unless he was in his death throes...though the moans told me otherwise. Alright. I had him on the ropes, I thought as I turned away. Maybe if I used level fives...

The balcony suddenly dropped. I grabbed onto the railing, stopping myself from plunging three stories. Behind me, spreading outward from the hole I had blasted in the floor, a spiderweb of cracks grew, branching out and spreading all over the third floor. “Oh, crap,” I murmured as the piece of floor I stood on dipped again. I had less than a second to make my choice, and I did. Before I lost my footing, I judged the distance and braced myself and threw my body out into the air of the rotunda. An instant later, the balcony collapsed, falling into the second story and shattering into large chunks of stone.

I freefell through the air, trying not to let my arms flail. I had one shot at this, or else Herman Schultz was going to end up a smear on the floor of the Museum of Natural History. I aimed as best I could in the few seconds I plunged towards the lobby, flinging my hands out as the last minute and praying that I hit this. You could cram a lot of deity pleading into a moment as my palm brushed my intended target. My fingers instantly clenched, trying to find purchase. And they did, as sharp pain lanced through my hand. My other hand shot up, grabbing hold before the velocity of the fall ripped me away from my purchase.

The neck of the Barosaurus skeleton held. The steel rods holding the long neck aloft creaked, but didn't break, not even dipping from my added body weight. From here, it was only a one-story drop to the floor. My legs dangled as I tried to steady myself for the controlled fall. My fingers were caught in a small piece of its neck, but I was afraid to pull them free before I was ready. The grip on my other hand was slipping, and I had to glance up as they almost fell off to readjust. When I looked back down, there he was. Aleksei's face was bloody, still dripping from his broken nose. The smile on his face was a mockery of joy as he reached out for me, well out of range. “Herman,” his deep voice said in a sing-song manner, “get down from there, this instant.”

I could have blasted him, but both hands were busy making sure I didn't fall right into his grip. And the one kept slipping. I scrambled, my legs swinging wildly, trying to find something to hold on to...but my hand fell off. Immediately, all that pressure went to the hand pinched inside the neck, and the yell I let out echoed across the lobby. I tried to bring my other hand back up, but the pain was just too much, like my digits were being broken. Before I could stop myself, I let go, and fell immediately the short distance into Aleksei's waiting...

He moved backwards instead, and instead of him catching me, I slammed into the base of the Barosaurus exhibit. I rolled onto my side, groaning, as my back protested in pain. That pain soon became the last of my worries, though, as two strong hands picked me up, using my ears (well, the sides of my skull) to hoist me off the ground. Aleksei held me at arm’s length, well away from his body. The blood from his nose had dried up, smeared all over the lower part of his face. No words, just clenched teeth as he squeezed my skull tightly. The pressure was too much to bear, and I cried out in agony. It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my sockets. He had me...but I had him. Fighting through the pain that threatened to crack my skull, I did the same thing that had seemed to work earlier. Level fours right to his face. The space between us was filled with waves of overpressure as I poured everything my vibro-smashers had into him. The pressure on my head lightened as I assaulted him. Come on, this close, something, anything, had to snap. His palms moved away from my ears, but the fingers tightened their grip. One of us roared in anger, or maybe both of us, as he squeezed, I blasted, and someone had to break first. It couldn't be me. It couldn't be me. It couldn't be me...

My arms shook with the vibrations as the recoil and residual energy filled the air. The fingers on one hand ached from being pinched in the dinosaur's spine, and were now being forced to absorb point blank level-four blasts, which I rarely used to this damn long. Through the pain, I aimed directly at his face, the only exposed part of his body, narrow blasts, arms as far out as I could stretch them to minimize distance.

I had to hold...and I did. Aleksei broke first, pulling his hands back and staggering a few steps. His eyes leaked blood, a thin rivulet running down from where his tear ducts should have been. I managed to land, a bit wobbly, on the floor on both feet. I wasn't one for migraines, but that had to be what one felt like. Tears of my own were welling up, and I did my best to brush them away under my quilted armor. The cut on my forehead felt wetter, as if Aleksei squeezed blood and opened it wider. It didn't drip down into my eyes.

One of had to recover first. And this time, it was the undead guy who didn't have to worry about breathing or other circulatory functions. I barely had time to get my head up, which was a mistake as Aleksei's shoulder cracked into my jaw. All that mass, one point of impact, and he skidded a little further, but sent me flying backwards.

If they were still alive, Aleksei and I just ruined future field trips for thousands of little kids as he drove me into the skeleton of the Barosaurus. I slammed into one of the front legs, stopping immediately as I hit bone as hard as a rock. I slid down the shin, resting on the foot itself. Aleksei stared at me, his arms crossed over his broad chest, as metaphorical stars danced around my head. I heard something crack. But it wasn't Aleksei cracking his knuckles, like I had expected. I looked up, sighing as I realized what was happening. The Barosaurus' neck was wobbling, shaking all the way down its spine. The freestanding fossil, the centerpiece of the entire Rotunda, was falling apart from the impact, and it was going to come down on Aleksei and me.

I put pressure on my hand to push myself into a tuck-and-roll, but it was the hand with the pinched fingers. By the time I overcame the shock of sudden pain, the steel rods that supported the dinosaur's frame were snapping, and the long slender neck of the skeleton was giving way under its own weight. That was Aleksei's concern, however. Mine was the torso of the skeleton that had suddenly dropped forward. I made my decision as the entire dinosaur came crashing down, the leg I had been thrown against giving way. Maybe two tons of bone fell towards me, and I was resorting to a trick seen in old pulp novels and movie serials. The two front legs cracked, one right after the other, cutting out the support of the ribcage and bringing the whole thing slamming into the ground.

Around me.

There was just enough room for me, curling into the tightest ball I possibly could, to fit underneath the ribcage. All around me, spears of ancient bone crashed into the tile floor of the rotunda. I had my arms over my head, as the stone floor gave way to the fossils, chips flying into the air. It was one loud boom, the thump echoing across the rotunda, followed by another, smaller crash. That would be the neck, and instead of the cracking of bone on tile, it was the thump of bone on body armor. Aleksei had decided not to move. As I peeked out from between my fingers, the neck fell across the edge of his broad shoulder. My former friend didn't even flinch as the bones rolled off his shoulder, falling to the ground in a straight line. The skull crashed behind him, and Aleksei just stood there, arms still crossed across his massive chest, staring at my huddled form as I slowly pulled my arms away from my head. Ok. My plan to save my bacon had worked. That was the good news. The bad news was, when I had my wrists up by my head covering my face, I noticed something very bad. The energy meter on the side of my gauntlets, both of them, were in the red. The level threes and fours I had been throwing around, the ones that had barely made a dent in Aleksei, had damn near drained me dry. I had very few left in me, a couple of fours, half a dozen threes, and one level five, roughly, in each. And Aleksei was still standing, and Mordo still had the Darkhold, and Ms. Marvel was still gone, and the zombies were still in Central Park, and...

Aleksei walked forward as I went over the litany of just how screwed and out of options I was. Two gray hands grabbed at the ribcage. The muscles bulged under Aleksei’s armor as he strained to lift the obstruction between me and him. The points of the fossils slowly rose out of the floor, parts of the exhibit’s base sticking to the sharp ends. With a roar, Aleksei lifted the ribcage free. I ducked, dropping completely to the floor on my stomach, as Aleksei turned to the side, ripping the ribcage away from the hind legs and flinging it across the rotunda. Several small exhibits scattered as the fossil slammed into them, before coming to a rest, sandwiching a souvenir stand against the wall at the moment of impact.

The boom echoed in my ears as I scrambled away, retreating in the opposite direction. I couldn’t stand and get into a slugging match with Aleksei with my vibro-smashers almost out of juice. I had two options. One, find a place where I could jam new batteries into my gauntlets and get back to full power. Two, somehow come up with a way to drop Aleksei with one (or two) level five shot (shots).

Some of you out there hearing this tale, I know what you’re yelling. There was a way to one-shot my former friend. “It’s right there, right in front of you!” And a few of you are right. It was damn near in my face, the apple on the tree of knowledge, and all I really had to do was reach out and pluck it. And you’d think a guy like me, who knows a thing about plans, how they go south, and how to improv on the fly, would have picked up on it right away. Well…it’s like driving down an icy road. You start to slide, and your brain locks up like your brakes. All you think about is the fact that you’re sliding, not how you’re going to stop sliding. Right now, I was more concerned with the fact that I was fighting my friend then how I was going to win. Every time I tried to form an idea or plan, it always went back to fighting Aleksei. I was looking to retreat and reload, that was my plan.

I was heading for the west hallway, leading to more exhibits deeper into the museum, when something sailed over my head, barely avoiding taking my head off. The ribcage tore gouges in the painted plaster as it slammed into the hallway, bouncing about in the enclosed space for a brief moment before crashing onto the floor. Yeah, that had been my exit, and now, a 65 million year old fossil was blocking it.

“You’re not going to run away, Herman, are you? I’m finally having fun.” I turned to look at my former friend, who was making his way towards me. “Smashing stuff, breaking things…that’s what the Rhino does, right?” Aleksei stopped in the center of the rotunda, his arms hanging loose at his sides. “Big dumb Rhino, a bull in a china shop. That’s all I ever was to you, Herman, a stupid fire-and-forget weapon.”

“You know that’s crap, Aleksei.” He was coming at me, and the only thing I could do was press myself against the back wall of the hallway. The ribcage was wedged in tight, like a couch stuck on a switchback landing, and there wasn't a damn bit of room for me to squeeze underneath or through the ancient ribs. And walking right at Aleksei wasn't an attractive option either. I put out my arms, palms flat against the mural that lined the long hallway. “If you're expecting me to stand here and call you some kind of genius, I ain't going to waste my breath. Because I know that's not you in there, Aleksei. It's just something using your body like a puppet. You don't know a damn thing you're trying to talk about.”

“That's what you think. Dillon still had his issues with his mother. Toomes reveled in being damn near young again. Me? I'm enjoying breaking things.” The entrance to the hallway wasn't an option anymore, as my armored opponent filled the entire space. “I'm Aleksei, Herman, and you're nothing more than a trapped rat.”

“Shows how much you know about rats. I actually took a page out of them.” I pushed my palms against the wall, and jammed down on the triggers of both gauntlets with a level four. “Rats always have an escape route.”

The vibrations from my weapons went right into the wall. Normally, I'd just blow through the wall, using the energy from my blasts like a shotgun. Sometimes...rarely, but sometimes...finesse was called for. The concrete and wires simply shook apart from the energy, and the wall dropped like a waterfall. Aleksei's red eyes went wide as what had been an expertly painted mural became an exit to the outside world. He started forward, feet stomping, but I was already moving, stepping out onto the thin lip of concrete that ran along the outside of the Museum's first floor. “HERRRRRRRRMAN,” he screamed as I immediately scrambled to the left, my hands clutching the side of the building as the cold of the autumn night and the horrible moans both hit me at once. My fingers dug into the stone, the quilted pattern of my armor giving my feet traction on the small stone lip, as I side-stepped away from the hole. A gray hand reached out, swiping in the air as I moved away, before pulling back in. “You're not going to get away that easily,” I could hear him bellow before the sound of his rage was swallowed up by the sounds coming from behind and below.

My ass was hanging out over the zombie horde, about ten feet above them, standing on maybe nine inches of concrete. Behind me, the stream of undead continued to pour into Central Park, thinner than the initial rush, but still, that's like the Blob saying he'd lost 50 pounds, it ain't enough to make that much of a difference. Below me, the zombies that had been closest to the museum had turned their attention towards me. Almost six rows deep of the living dead crushed against the stone wall, hands reaching up at me. Their mouths were wide open, their moans sounding like they were coming from Hades, and their eyes, pleading, urgent, as they reached up at me, well out of their reach. Didn't matter to them, though. I was meat, and I was close, and they were letting every one of their brothers and sisters know it.

Now, if you're thinking “damn, Herman, out of the frying pan and your ass is getting singed by the proverbial fire,” you ain't too far off. My little escape had been born of desperation, the only way out available to me. One slip, and I was going to become food for a thousand hungry zombies, with no Thor or Ms. Marvel to bail my ass out. But at the end of this lip, all the way to the left, a fire escape, it's ladder up, was attached to the side of the Museum. If I could make it there, I could make it anywhere inside the museum, any floor, away from Aleksei. It'd give me a chance to swap in some fresh power packs. And maybe most important, it'd give me time to come up with some kind of real plan...

Alright, Herman. How about we actually get to the fire escape first?

SHIELD and Osborn's new Thunderbolts were still in the fight. I could hear the sounds of combat coming from the other side of museum. Might as well be on the other side of the world at this point. Slowly, I slid my foot to the left. I leaned forward towards the museum as far as I could, keeping my weight evenly distributed. My fingers felt for any little nook or crevice in the hewed stone, carefully pressing like I was spinning a combination dial or picking a lock. Only when I saw sure everything was stable and sure did I carefully move my right foot, sliding it along. My right hand came last, grabbing onto the small cable that ran down the side of the museum. Great. Four feet down. Hundreds more to go. Well, standing here bitching wasn't going to get me to the damn fire escape, was it?

“Herrrrmannnn...” Aleksei's low gravelly voice drifted from the opening as I scooched my second scooch. If you can come up with a better word, go for it, I'm sticking with scooching. “...you know this won't work. Come back inside. I promise, I'll make it quick.”

Yeah...if Aleksei was telling me not to do it, I was going to do it. I shut his voice out. And I did my best to shut out the zombies below me. I knew I could look down and see New Yorkers torn to shreds, missing limbs, organs ripped from their bodies, reaching up for me. All that matter was the nine inches of stone I'm standing on, about...two hundred feet of it? Let's call it that, it's a low, round number I can deal with.

It was just like picking a safe. Slow, steady, and rushing it would trip the alarm...or trip me, and cause me to stumble. A stumbling Shocker is a dead Shocker. The nerves in my body were trying to convince me to go faster as I carefully set my left foot down. It took every single amount of patience I could muster as I slid along the thin lip. Every handhold had to be solid. Every step had to be firm. The past week in New York had been dry, so I didn't have to worry about slick spots on the stone. This was all me. Just me, and a plan. A crazy, out-there, no-way-in-hell-it-will-work plan.

I love those kind of plans. They tend to come out in my favor, even if getting to the end result ain't the best trip in the world.

Left hand. Left foot. Right foot. Right hand. Rinse, and repeat. The motions quickly became familiar to me, but I never let them become rote. Every single movement I made was done with the utmost precision and care, each motion an exercise in patience and terror. I treated it like casing a joint before a job. Every time you got comfortable, you dragged yourself back to reality, because it’s when you got complacent that things went south.

They were still there, the moans, but like any good New Yorker, I tuned out the background noise. When I glanced down to make sure my feet were on solid footing, I could see their fingers scrabbling at the stone below me. But for the most part, I kept my eyes front, scanning the wall for any handhold. I could have vibrated my way back inside, but that would put me in the hallway that the Barosaurus ribcage had blocked at one end. If Aleksei was waiting for me at the other end...I had plan, and I committed to it. Left hand. Left foot. Right foot. Right hand.

The fire escape inched closer as I made my way foot by foot along the tiny lip. Years of cracking safes meant my fingers were used to this type of delicate work, but my feet were beginning to complain, as my toes and assorted other bones burned from supporting my body weight. Complaint noted. Moving on. I had no idea how much time had passed. All I knew was the fire escape was closer, and I hadn’t become lunch yet.

My forearms were beginning to ache, but I was three-fourths of the way there. I wanted to speed up, but slow and steady...

And speaking of slow and steady, it decided to make a reappearance.

Left hand. Left foot. Gray hand punching through the wall.

The sound of shattering stone caused my head to whip around. It was about a hundred feet to my right, a massive fist sending debris into the air as it slammed through the outer wall. The chips of stone falling on their heads got the attention of a few walking corpses as the hand pulled back. A few seconds later, another hole was punched through the thick stone, about ten feet to the left of the last one, at about the same level as my head.

“Damn it,” I muttered, afraid to raise my voice and give away my location. Left hand, left foot, right foot, right hand. As I set up for another scooch, the third impact of Aleksei’s fist into the stone shook my handhold, just for a brief moment. In response, I clutched the wall, making damn sure I didn’t slip. That was time wasted, as Aleksei’s hand pulled back into the museum, only to break through ten feet down the line.

It was the slowest, but most important race of my damn life. I couldn’t go fast, but I had to. I couldn’t waste time planting my feet and securing my hands, but I had to. Left hand, left foot, right foot, right hand. Fist through the wall, a chunk of concrete flying into the air and smashing into the skull of a New York City Transit worker. Move it, Herman, don’t worry about what you can’t control...

Each time Aleksei smashed through the steel and concrete, it sent vibrations down the line, all the way to me. Tiny ones, most of their energy absorbed by the stone, but just enough to give me pause. The fire escape now seemed miles away, but I kept going. Left hand, left foot, right foot, right hand. “Oh, God.” Left hand, left foot, right foot, right hand. “Come on.” Left hand...

It was bound to happen. My foot slipped, my left boot not quite finding the entire lip. Gravity took an instant hold, pulling my entire body towards the ground. My left hand clutched at the drainpipe as I whipped my foot back towards the ledge, planting it firmly. It took a few seconds for me to realize I was hyperventilating, my lungs working overtime, my heart beating a mile a minute. And to my right, as I clutched the stone with every square inch of fabric I could muster, the jackhammer sounds of a fist breaking stone getting closer and closer. Panic started to well up inside of me, and it took every single bit of strength I could muster to stop it in its tracks. Left hand left foot right foot right hand. My breathing threatened to spiral out of control, but I could handle that. Keep moving, Herman, keep moving!

That little voice in my head, the seed of self-doubt I had fought for years and years, was whispering into my conscious. I couldn’t make it. My velocity (A) was less than Aleksei’s velocity (B), and since we were moving in the same direction towards the fire escape (C), with B A, B will reach C before A reaches C, and damn it, my last thoughts are not going to be working out a simple physics problem! I’m a guy who built a pair of gloves that can level a building out of junk I found in a prison metal shop, so if there’s anyone on this damn planet still breathing that could break the laws of physics...ok, I couldn’t break them, but I was damn sure going to bend them.

Yeah, great words, but that still didn’t solve my problem that Aleksei was moving faster than me. But I kept going, hand, foot, foot, hand. “I know you’re out here, Herman,” I could hear Aleksei bellow through the holes he had driven into the wall. “And when I find you, you’re going on a one-way trip, straight down!”

If Aleksei had been wise enough to start at the other end of the hallway, I would have been a goner. But that didn’t provide too much comfort. I tried to stop worrying and focus solely on the wall, but when Aleksei’s fist punched through the wall ten feet from where I was currently standing, it wouldn’t take a genius like me to figure out where the next punch was going to break on through. I had to risk it. I wasn’t too sure of my handhold as I slid my foot over, and I wasn’t sure of my footing when I slid my foot over, and...you see where this is going, don’t you? Well, it wasn’t like that.

I managed to slide a good bit away with less-than-optimal footing and grip, maybe two or three more movements from the fire escape, when Aleksei’s hand annihilated the wall. The majority of the concrete flew out over the crowd, raining down on the horde of zombies, but the vibration of the impact, along with just the pure shock of it, hit me full force.

My fingers slipped.

My arms windmilled, trying to keep my balance. Gravity had a hold of my neck, and immediately, my weight shifted backwards, pulled along by my arms even as they lunged forward. So desperate to keep my balance, I just couldn’t bring my body forward to grab at the wall. All those Three Stooges shows I had seen on TV flashed across my mind, the stereotypical guy moving his hips and his arms to stay upright even when he knew it was over. My torso went just a bit over the top, and gravity had its win. I could hear the eager groans of the hungry dead below me as that spark ignited in their brains that dinner was about to be served.

The final thought that went through my mind was if I would feel any pain if I blasted myself in the head with a level five before the zombies started to eat me.

Right by my head, Aleksei’s fist grazed my ear as he punched his next hole in the wall, just like clockwork. On the upswing, my left arm caught one of his fingers, and I brought up my right arm the moment I had a semblance of a grip. I locked my arms around Aleksei’s forearm, using it as a handhold to pull myself back up onto the ledge. I damn near felt his roar of anger as he yanked his arm back through the wide open hole. I slammed, chest first, into the hole, and the jagged concrete made the best handhold I could think of. The hole itself was a mess, with steel cables and some sparking wires filling the space between me and Aleksei. From what I could make out in dim light, my former friend was NOT happy. His teeth were bared, his eyes narrow. Maybe he was going to yell at me again, maybe he was going to roar. I’d never find out, because I jammed one of my fists into the hole and let out a level five right into his face.

I felt the small vibration in my palm telling me that gauntlet was now completely dry as the air in the tunnel exploded in a flash of blue, slamming into Aleksei’s face. My biggest attack shoved Aleksei’s backwards, away from the hole, swiping at his face like he was trying to bat the air away. Immediately, I pulled back and scrambled to my left. The fire escape was right there, and it only took a few motions for me to get within reach of the metal stairs. I grabbed on, and quickly vaulted myself over. And just in time, because right as I pulled myself over the railing, the wall behind me exploded. Two fists this time. Did I say explode? I meant disappeared, in a cloud of dust. The fire escape groaned at the loss of support as I pulled himself to my feet and scrambled up the narrow stairs to the second floor. “HERMAN! YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY!”

As I turned the corner, Aleksei was leaning out of the huge hole he made. Both hands wrapped around the fire escape where it was anchored to the building, and I felt the whole structure shift downward. The groan of bending metal was evident over the groan of the zombies as the fire escape slowly tilted, torn away by the pure strength Aleksei possessed. One of my hand held onto a railing while, with all the power I had left, I blasted the hinges on the second floor’s fire exit. The heavy door shifted on its frame before falling forward onto the landing. Even as it was falling, I was diving, easily flying through the opening and landing on my stomach back inside the museum’s Birds of the World exhibit. Oh, sweet, sweet solid tile flooring...

With a screech, the fire escape collapsed behind me. I turned onto my back, sitting up, to watch the twisted metal fall past the wide open doorway. My heart was still going 100 miles-per-hour, and my bladder kept insisting I should be peeing my pants after that experience. “YOU CAN’T RUN, HERMAN! I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I breathed, before climbing to my feet. I heard the booming footsteps below me, and since I was looking at a set of stairs, Aleksei wasn’t bluffing. He knew exactly where I was. I forced myself up, and took off. I passed through the Hall of African Peoples, streaming past darkened exhibits, and into the Akeley Gallery. To the south was what was left of the gift shop, my eyes drawn to the destruction as I ran past priceless works of art. I needed a place to hide, to stop, and not let my footsteps give me away. Aleksei’s passage wasn’t subtle. I knew he was somewhere behind me.

I pushed through an emergency door at the end of the Gallery, thanking any and all available deities that the alarm didn’t go off. I was back in the hallway Ms. Marvel and I had first walked. The entrance to the brand new veranda was to my left. But to my right was a dark classroom. That’s what I wanted. I could hear Aleksei behind me, faintly. I eased into the room, opening the door a crack and closing it a crack. This room, as opposed to the rest of the museum, was completely dark. Good.

I made my way to the lectern, dropping behind it to completely hide myself from anyone who looked inside. Aleksei’s vision hadn’t been the best when he was still alive, and years of ducking around corners to hide from Spider-Man had taught me how to swap out power cartridges silently. Hell, maybe Aleksei wouldn’t even think to try the emergency door...ah, there you go again, Herman, counting on luck.

Echoes of Aleksei’s taunts reached me as I popped fresh batteries into my gauntlets. My gloves’ energy meters filled to green, showing a full charge for both weapons, doing wonders for my ego. Alright. I could throw out a couple of level fives, but at this point, I wasn’t sure I could do anything to him. And I really didn’t feel comfortable going after Baron Mordo with Aleksei stalking me. So, how the hell do I take Aleksei down? Well, lucky for me, I was in a museum. And they always had technology and scientific gear. Maybe I could jury rig something out of some spare parts and a couple of exhibits. Granted, stuff from the Birds of the World and the Hall of African Peoples wasn’t going to help me too much in stopping a walking tank, but the Rose Center for Earth and Space was right across the hallway. If I couldn’t find something in that place to help me, I wasn’t worth my salt as an engineer.

My heart slowed down. My breathing returned to normal. It didn’t matter that I was in a museum surrounded by zombies, being stalked by my best friend, one floor above a sorcerer working apocalypse magic. Stand back, everyone. Herman Schultz was about to do science.

I crept out of the classroom after listening at the door for a few moments, confirming that it was silent outside. It was a short trip through a switchback corridor, and there I was. In front of me, the center piece of the Rose Center sat lifeless, a perfect sphere that taught students and visitors the secrets of the world beyond the stars. I could stand here forever...hey, sometimes even a thug wonders what life’s like on another planet. No time for that now, though. In front of me were the Scales of the Universe, a long pathway winding around the large Hayden Sphere that sat in the middle of the place. Carefully watching my steps, I crept along the glass hallway. I passed representations of Jupiter and Saturn, its 17-foot rings pale in comparison to the rest of the universe. Galaxies, supernovas...were the dead rising out there, too? Oh, there’s a great thought.

The Scales wrapped around the entire second floor. The very end, almost back where I started, was all about the Earth and its moon. All I had seen during my little jaunt were holographic projectors and slide cameras. Even here, the exhibit about the Earth’s moon was a bunch of pictures, from the initial Space Race of the 1960’s, to man’s return in the 70’s, all the way up to a few years ago, when Colonel John Jameson had stepped foot on the moon in the months following 9/11. They even had his spacesuit hanging up, along with his compressor in a case next...

...

...no way. You’re kidding me. This isn’t happening. I’m imagining this.

I rushed over to the compressor. “Oh, sweetheart...” I said like it was the damn Hope Diamond. “...tell me you’re a working model.” And the card affixed to the front of the display told me it was better than that. “This is the air compressor Colonel John Jameson used when he landed on the moon,” I read quietly as I studied the case. “This compressor, a Stark Industries design, could help fit three times more air into an astronaut’s tank.” And the damn thing wasn’t even alarmed. My lockpicks let me pop the case with a minimum of noise and effort. This was it. This was exactly what I needed to stand toe-to-toe with Aleksei. It went beyond that. This is the damn thing I needed to drop him, once and for all. And the best part? My power packs were still compatible with this thing after all these years.

I pulled the compressor out of its case, and just like before, slapped my last pair of fresh batteries into the power chamber before slinging the whole rig over my shoulders. The machinery was a weight on my back I wasn’t used to, but I’d adapt. Oh, man, would I adapt. The cables that would go to the air canisters, I plugged them right into my gauntlets. I swung my arms a few times to work out the kinks in the cables and get a feel for the compressor. For the last thing, I crossed the fingers on my left hand as my right hand reached back and hit the compressor’s power switch...

The hum that flowed onto my back was better than sex. Well...not literally. But right now, it was the best feeling in the world. Alright. Time to see if this is really going to work. I raised my gauntlet towards the large scale model of Jupiter, and held down the trigger like I was tossing out a level three. The energy lashed out of my hand like a bolt of lightning, a vibrating shock of blue that cracked Jupiter in half. The bottom portion came undone, falling past the Hayden Sphere to the first floor. I heard the impact, the model shattering into thousands of pieces on the ground. Damn right. Just what I had been hoping for. And I’m sure the model of Jupiter was insured.

Herman Schultz had walked into the Rose Center. It was the Shocker who walked out. The compressor on my back hummed as it worked with my gauntlets, the technology a quick and dirty plug-and-play that was about to save my ass and kill my friend. I focused on the first part as I walked past the classroom I had taken refuge in only minutes before, and made my way to the emergency door back into the Akeley Gallery. Screw subtlety. I had spent too much time cowering, hiding, and pleading, leaping and running for my life. No more. Whatever had taken over my best friend was going down. It was the same feeling I had back in St Patrick’s when I squared off with Electro, that heroic feeling, that sense of “I am not going to lose.” And I wasn’t.

I kicked open the door, and walked back into the gallery. Rows and rows of priceless artwork and sculpture lined the walls as my fingers ran along the edges of the vibro-smashers’ triggers. “ALEKSEI! HERE I AM! RIGHT HERE! COME AND GET ME!”

Silence after my voice echoed through the empty corridors. Then came the footsteps, from the far end of the gallery. Faint at first, slowly growing louder, each step deliberate. No hurry, no rush. The Rhino was going to take his time getting here, to let me worry and bemoan my fate. Oh, not tonight, kids. Not tonight. I was bouncing, like a kid in a candy store or a businessman at Score’s with a fistful of ones. Come on, big guy. I really don’t want to do this to one of the few guys who ever had my back, but I don’t have a choice.

Eventually, he came into few at the far end of the Gallery. No taunting from him, and none from me, either. Nothing verbal, anyway. I just nodded at him, moving my head up like I was calling him over. That’s right, big guy, just come straight at me. This wasn’t just about physically hurting him. This was going to be a morale check on my part.

He just stared at me in the dim red light for a moment. “I am glad to see you’re accepting your fate, Herman.” No response came from me as he lowered his horn, dipping it towards me almost in salute. His feet pushed off, legs pumping, as he quickly hit his full stride. The sculptures jumped on the wall, a painting crashing to the floor as he ran past. His arms swung, adding to his speed, horn dipped down for the killing blow. Hit me in the chest, raise up, swing to the side, and instant disembowelment. I stood my ground, no nerves, no panic, no voice telling me to move. Even my self-doubt knew, at this moment, I had him.

When he crossed twenty feet, I whipped up my arms. My thumbs pressed down on the triggers, and I gave him a level ten right to the skull.

Yeah, you read that right. A level ten.

A couple of years ago, I was on the run from the Scourge of the Underworld, yet another vigilante who loved to show up, pop a third-or-fourth tier bad guy, and vanish into the night. For some reason, this guy had a real mad-on against me, and my ass fled all the way to sunny Rio to avoid him. Warm sand and hot Latino women soothed my fears for a while, but like that song says, paranoia runs deep. After a few weeks of not being able to sleep and jumping at shadows, I decided to come back to New York City and confront the vigilante on my terms. And my terms involved a lot more firepower than I was packing at the time.

Even down in Rio, I kept an eye on the Big Apple, getting a copy of the Daily Bugle delivered to my shack every day. When I saw a mention of John Jameson's upcoming moonshot, I knew I had my ace-in-the-hole. I flew back up to New York City that next day. Immediately, that damn Spider-Man was on my trail, sniffing around and getting in my way. He didn't stop me, though, from getting my hands on that compressor. Of course, the bastard...and yeah, I still think of him that way. I won't beat him senseless if I come across him in an alleyway anymore, but once a punk, always a punk...the bastard hangs in there, works his damn magic, and beats the tar out of me. I end up in the Vault, the furthest thing from Rio you could possibly find, and the compressor goes up into space. Guess I got lucky, because when I thought I needed it, I couldn't use it, and now that I DO need it, it's right here in the middle of a space exhibit.

So what's so damn special about this compressor that has me treating it like a naked and willing Ms. Marvel? Like the plaque on the exhibit said, this piece of machinery can pump three times the amount of air into a canister. Ponder that for a second. Yeah, you're getting it now. My vibro-smashers work by exploding the air around them and throwing it at the target in the form of a blast. So...what happens when those vibro-smashers are pre-loaded with a whole bunch of compressed air, oxygen and nitrogen crammed together, looking for some form of outlet? Putting it as simply as I can, you get the equivalent of jamming an extended ammo drum full of high explosive bullets onto a Tommy Gun and letting it rip. Basically, I just upgunned my vibro-smashers. Given time, I could triple the amount of firepower my vibro-smashers using this compressor. Quick and dirty like, I'm only able to double my firepower. Yeah, double it.

If Aleksei was the ultimate walking tank, you were looking at the ultimate Panzerfaust, and it's name, fittingly enough, is Herman Schultz.

*****

The blast rippled down the hall. Paint peeled away from the walls. Sculptures turned to shrapnel. Painters splintered. Somewhere, an insurance adjustor had a heart attack. And Aleksei came to a halt as the energy slammed into him. The hallway exploded as it looked like he ran into a wall made of solid diamond for a moment, before suddenly bending backwards. He fell to the ground, landing on his broad back, bringing anything still loosely hanging on the walls of the Galley crashing with him.

I would have felt damn good at this moment, finally taking Aleksei down without putting myself in harm's way. But in all the excitement, I had forgotten one tiny, but damn important rule. Newton's Third Law. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, it was me being shoved backwards by the sheer amount of compressed air blasting from my gauntlets. I landed on my butt, the compressor digging into my tailbone at the impact. “Ow! Damn it,” I cursed. I knew I had forgot something, the damn recoil. I had to brace myself with every shot, or else every time I blasted Aleksei, I'd end up on my ass.

I got to my feet, wincing at the pain in my butt, as Aleksei rolled onto his side. “What...what trickery is this,” he proclaimed, one fist pounding the tile floor, sending pieces of marble and painted canvas into the air.

“Trickery? Damn, joining the Grim Reaper upped your vocabulary.” I fired another level ten. The floor around Aleksei buckled, the tile rising in a series of waves as the energy flowed all around it. He put a hand to his face, covering his eyes as dust and debris filled the air. “Equal terms, Aleksei. That's what it is. Get up so I can knock you down again,” I growled.

“No...I'm the Rhino! This isn't...”

“Life sucks, Aleksei. I'm sorry to do this to you, but you're in my way, and you're not going to move until I make you move.”

The next level ten made him flinch as it washed over him, his eyes squeezing shut. The hallway way down to its bare bones, the skeletal structure of the hallway showing, thick steel security plates that stood up to the assault of my blasts. “Fine! If this is how you want to play it, Herman, come at me!” My gloves energy meter was already at three-quarters, so I had to dial it down. And get in one good shot at his face. I don't care who you are, alive, dead, undead, Iron Man, Molecule Man, the Rhino...a level ten will scramble your brain.

Aleksei pulled himself to his feet. Both his hands went out towards me, his fingers motioning for me to come at him. “You can't hurt me, Herman! Come on!” One gray finger turned and pointed at his face, jabbing at his broken nose. “Right here. A free shot, just to prove you can't do a damned thing!”

“You asked for it.” Both hands came up, my fingers holding down the triggers. Two level tens, aimed square at his skull. My foot went back to brace myself. I had never in my life handled power like this. It came from my gauntlets in waves, a stream of blue energy, vibrating and exploding across the distance. My ankle almost buckled under the recoil before I found my balance. Aleksei's face was covered by the blasts, his fists at his sides now. There was nothing left of the prized Akeley Gallery. The precious artwork and painted walls with carved fixtures were destroyed beyond any hope of recognition. “Come on, you bastard,” I hissed, “die, for real this time!” Aleksei fell to one knee, and I poured it on, taking advantage of the sign of weakness.

The glare of the energy faded away as I released the triggers. My arms shook from the vibrations that had almost overloaded my suit, threading its capacity. He had to have fallen. Nothing could have withstood it.

“Herman,” the ruined figure in front of me said, pushing up from one knee. “Your blasts couldn't stop the Hulk. What makes you think they could stop me?”

He had no skin left. His face was a mash of cartilage and bone, the only bits of flesh remaining hanging from where his suit of armor pressed against his body. “Oh, come ON,” I proclaimed, more frustrated than scared. Teeth were missing, disintegrated under my assault. His jaw had a hairline crack. His nose was barely visible. And one arm hung loosely to his side, possibly broken. But he was still active, swaying slightly to one side. No way...Aleksei was strong, but this...

“What the hell it is going to take?!?”

“You'll never know, Herman.” He lumbered towards me, one staggering step at a time. “No matter what you do, I'll win. You can't possibly compare to someone like me...”

Click.

“You're not healing.”

Aleksei dragged himself to a sudden halt. “What? What did you say?”

The light bulb in my head flared to life. “You're not healing.” By now, his skin should have begun to knit itself over his skull. The fine powder I had ground his teeth into should have been forming a tooth-shaped cloud in his mouth. His nose should have inflated like a balloon being pumped full of helium. “You should be healing, Aleksei. And you're not.”

“Herman...you're grasping for straws,” Aleksei murmured. “It's over...”

“No. It's not.” I don't know what it was, but something...he should have regenerated, like Black Talon, like Chondu, like Electro. He shouldn't have had a broken, destroyed face. “You're not regenerating. And...your voice. You're not talking like you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don't sound like you. I know you, Aleksei. You don't talk like you're talking now...Electro and the Vulture had the same...speech patterns. You don't.” The pieces were falling into place. “No regeneration, and a different personality...and impossible to hurt...you’re Aleksei, but you’re not him...on the roof. On the roof, Aleksei. When we were back on the roof of the warehouse, we talked about someone. Someone you were embarrassed to talk about. Who was it?”

I crossed my arms, staring at him. He was motionless now, the damage I had inflicted on him stagnant. His eyes boiled red, but...everything else just seemed different. A little hunch. A bit of a slouch. “Herman...this is your last...”

“ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!” I took a step forward, my hands pointed at him. “You've been taunting me, telling me how much you hated me for what happened to you, how you wish I hadn't become who I turned into this past week. I had to fight through all of that, that mental pain. I may be a simple thug, but I know friendship...and you screwed with that. I hate having my head screwed with. So, prove to me you're really you, Aleksei.”

“It's a...”

“You don't know.”

“This is worthless! If you're going to defeat me, defeat me like a man!”

“You can't answer me.”

“I won't waste...”

“You have no idea who I'm talking about.”

“It's not important!”

“YOU DON'T KNOW!”

Roll to disbelieve.

The illusion fell away. One moment, he was a battered and torn mess of a former human being. The next, he was the biggest zombie I had seen next to the Hulk. His skin went from pink to pale gray. His curses and bellows became ragged moans. And all along his gray armor, green runes glowed, a mix of curves, swirls, and lines that even someone like me recognized as magic.

“You're a zombie under someone's control, like the Hulk.”

There it was. The illusion had served its purpose. So focused on the idea of having to kill my best friend, I didn't see the obvious solution to my problem. The way to kill Aleksei. And now, I was overpowered enough to do it.

I walked right up to him. The zombie Aleksei groaned, a hand reaching out for me, but it was weak, a futile gesture with a broken arm that I easily avoided. Without reservation, I jammed my hand into the gaping wound in his chest. I pushed past the sticky warmth that gripped at me, ignoring the jagged edges of bone that poked into my forearm. I turned my fist upward, pointing the edge of my gauntlet towards the base of his skull.

“You're not Aleksei. Get out of my friend.”

I held down the trigger, a level ten racing through his body from the inside. It was the same way Norman Osborn had killed Aleksei, back on that rooftop. It was how I was going to send my friend to his well deserved final rest. The waves of energy rebounded off of the tough skin, bouncing around inside of his body, like throwing a grenade in a closet and then slamming the door shut. I felt the energy tear at my hand, but I kept the trigger down anyway, fighting through the hot pins-and-needles sensation that poked at my arm. Aleksei immediately stiffened, lifting me with him as his body went straight. The sound of exploding air banging through his body sounded like popcorn in the microwave, small kernels popping. He staggered to one side, his head bowed, hands pressing to his skull. And still, I kept my trigger down. I wasn't losing. Aleksei was going to die, for good. My suit wasn't absorbing the waves of energy anymore, the skin on my arm feeling like hot knives were being dragged across it. The energy had nowhere else to go, trapped inside the body of Aleksei by virtue of his suit. They bounced and bounced again, like wavelengths overlapping, building on each other to a higher and higher crest. I shifted slightly, ignoring the pain in my wrist as a piece of bone jabbed into it. Come on...Hydro-Man destroyed the Hulk's brain with the power of water pressure. Air pressure had to work the same way...

He swung to the side, his hands now digging into his skull. Blood began to pour from the remains of his eyes and his ears. Aleksei opened his mouth, and red liquid dropped like a spilled cup of coffee. “Come on...get out of my friend. Get out of my friend. GET OUT OF MY FRIEND AND LET HIM REST IN PEACE, YOU BASTARD!”

A loud roar ripped down the hallway as Aleksei's body arched, his head thrown back in agony...and then his face exploded. Chucks of bone and blood flew into the air as the waves of pressure overwhelmed the strength of his chemically enhanced bones. My mask was covered in brain matter and bits of skull as all the energy I had shoved into Aleksei rushed out of the opening in his face, a whoosh of compressed air escaping into the air. His body pulled away from my arm with a prolonged squishy noise, the never-healed wound slurping along my uniform as Aleksei, for the final time, fell. His massive body crashed onto the steel plating that was now the floor of the Akeley Gallery. Where his smiling face had once been was now an empty gray cavity, a soupy red mix swishing back and forth at the bottom.

He was done. Fallen. Deceased. Dead. I had just killed my best friend. And had bits of him on me.

“Oh...oh, GROSS!” I brushed my face with my unbloodied arm, the wetness seeping into my uniform and down to my skin. “Damn it! Ew! EW!” The only thing stopping me from ripping my mask off right then and there was how badly the zombie Aleksei probably smelled. I stumbled from the Gallery into the Hall of African Mammals, dropping to my knees in the middle of the exhibit. I pulled my mask off, gasping for fresh air. “Uh...uh...uh,” I dry heaved, my body trying to throw up an empty stomach. Should I be crying because I just killed my best friend? Should I be glad I had just killed my best friend and stopped him from being someone's puppet? Laugh, cry, rage, sob...too many emotions. I just tried to puke, holding my bloody mask in one hand. The hum of the compressor was the only sound other than my heaving.

After a few seconds, the heaving gave way to heavy breathing as I took several deep breaths. I wanted to grieve. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to do SOMETHING. I couldn't, though. I couldn't mourn for my best friend. Not yet. Aleksei's death had only been the first part of my plan. The second part sat directly below me, chanting, controlling the zombie hordes outside of the museum. I had to deal with him. I wasn't going to leave the job half done. I squeezed the blood out of my mask as best I could, but it wasn't coming out. It still dripped as I wrung out the fabric. And there was no way I was going to let a zombie's blood near my mouth. Fine. I wasn't a big fan of my face anyway. I jammed my mask into my belt before standing up. My gloves were recharging as I headed towards the stairs leading down to the rotunda. Mordo, the Shocker's coming for you, and if I can, I'm dragging Hell behind me.

The green light still shone from the Hall of North American Mammals as I entered the lobby. At this point, any thought of subtlety was long gone. I strode across the tile floor, my feet crunching the debris of broken exhibits under them. I strode right up to the entryway. In front of me, still in the lotus position, Baron Mordo smiled at me, the thick pages of the Darkhold on his lap and the green portal still hovering above him. “So you figured out that Aleksei was only a puppet. I don't know why you're so mad. I was only using him like you had used him for so many years...”

Both hands, another level ten. In the past hour, I had thrown caution and finesse out the window for the most part. I was angry. I was furious. And the only cure for that rage was destruction. The energy shot towards the smirking sorcerer...

...and washed over a green dome of energy. It sprang from nowhere, covering the sorcerer completely in a half-sphere that now sat square on the floor. Damn it...could I have ONE moment where my gloves weren’t drained dry or completely and utterly freakin’ useless?

“Oh, you didn't think I'd have protection in place, Herman? What a fool you are. You've wasted so much time, risked your life, and for what? You may be a safecracker, Herman, and a damn fine one if rumors are true. But magic trumps technology. This is one layer of security not even the vaunted Shocker can crack.”

“Hell, Mordo, who says I have to crack it?” I pointed my fingers at the floor just beyond the base of his sphere. Only a level six this time, enough to crack the floor. The stone buckled as I sustained the blast, the stone falling away into the vast basement of the Museum of Natural History...

...and only the stone outside of the sphere. Inside the sphere, the floor remained in place, hovering with mystical assistance. The magic half-sphere was actually a bubble, extending down into the basement, half of it floating in space without any means of support.

“As I said, Herman, not even you can crack this. The magic I'm using,” his voice said smugly, “is beyond your comprehension, ancient even while this world was young. None of your technical tricks and mechanic wonders will unravel this magic.”

“Let me guess,” I said, the very words he used earlier coming back into my head. “Empires I've never heard of, and heroes I couldn't possibly imagine. It would take something older than recorded time to burst your bubble.”

Mordo's smile took on a hint of genuine affection. “Well done, Herman. If only you had turned that intelligence to magic. You could have been an interesting apprentice.”

“Oh...just you wait.” I left the room, leaving him with a confused grin. It took me a few moments to find what I was looking for, just the right size for me to carry. It was dense, and I had to take a few moments to steady it in my grip. Part of it was tucked under my arm, with my other hand holding the tip steady out in front of me. I had no idea if this would work. But hell, there wasn't any reason why it SHOULDN'T.

I trotted inside the door, returning Mordo's smirk as his grin turned into a confused gaze, and then into shocked recognition. “So, Mordo, tell me,” I called out as I picked up speed, “is sixty-three million years old ancient enough for you!”

Using momentum, I hurled my weapon forward in a sort of underhanded javelin throw. The tip of the Barosaurus fossil pierced the bubble with ease. Before Mordo could whip up a magic spell or just get out of the way, the piece of rib jabbed into his chest. I stopped short of the hole in the floor as Mordo dropped to the floor, the Darkhold falling from his lap. The green dome surrounding him disappeared, fading into oblivion, as he feebly clutched and swatted at the fossil sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from his mouth as he tried to get his hands around the rib to pull it free. But I did that for him, stepping onto his little piece of floor and taking the makeshift javelin in both hands, putting my foot on his chest before ripping it free. I held the fossil over him, blood dripping from the tip, waiting for the hole in his torso to start to knit up. It did, the edges of his skin beginning to creep back over the wound, before I leaned forward. I fired a level four from my gauntlets, assisting me to drive the fossil into the skull of Baron Mordo. The floor under his head cracked as the tip was pushed into the floor, passing through his forehead and brain in the process with a sickening squish. I stepped back, watching as his limbs twitched, his head pinned to the ground by the ancient bone. His skin tried to grow back over the massive head wound, but the sheer mess of the offending weapon made it in impossible. Above me, the green portal still swirled, even as its creator was helpless on the floor. But that was an afterthought for the moment. At my feet was the very thing I had gone through hell for the past hour.

The dark tome sat heavily on the floor, closed. The carving on the Darkhold's cover...it'd make the Marquis de Sade go scrambling for his safeword. I bent down and grabbed the book with utmost care. It weighed a lot more than I would have thought, and I struggled to pick it up. It was unbalanced in my hands, and I struggled to keep my footing at I stared down at it. “There you are,” I muttered to the prize of the evening. “I got you. So now what the hell do I do with you?”

To this day, I'll swear what happened next was the Darkhold's doing. I could feel the cut on my forehead pulse for a moment, a drop of blood oozing from the wound. It hung on my brow for a brief second, wet and sticky, before slowly falling from my skin. The droplet fell in front of my eyes, a single brief moment of red, coming to a rest as it splashed over the cover of the Darkhold.

_...call her back..._

The whisper came from somewhere in front of me. My eyes immediately snapped forward, scanning the Hall for whoever had talked.

_...call her back..._

“Who's there,” I asked hesitantly. “I ain't in the mood for games, not after the night I had.”

_...you can call her back..._

The whisper wasn’t from anywhere in the room. It was inside my head. A calm, soothing voice, reaching out to ease my concerns.

_...you can call her back to you...use the blood..._

I blinked for a second. The blood? What was this...whisper...whispering about?

_...you can call them back to you...use the blood...use your blood...set them free..._

“Blood? What blood? And who the hell am I talking to?”

_...a million million voices, Herman Schultz...at your command...use your blood...set her free..._

Understanding dawned on me. I looked down at the obscene cover of the Darkhold. Set against the cracked leather, the drop of my blood was vibrant, almost pulsing with energy. I sounded like such an idiot as I stammered in confusion. “You...you want MY blood?”

_...use your blood...bring Carol back..._

“Carol? Who the hell is...Carol? Ms. Marvel? Do you mean her?”

_...the portal...your blood...just one drop will call her back..._

“Ok, wait,” I said out loud. “You’re asking me to bleed on you? You're a book of evil sorcery! Even I know that’s a bad idea!” And I was going nuts, talking to a damn book!

_...in your hands now...you've done good, Herman...use me for good...she will never return without your blood...your blood...your blood..._

“Damn it. Alright. But I swear, the second you turn into Audrey II, I will rip you apart and use you for toilet paper!” I took a deep breath, in way over my head right now. I had seen enough movies and dealt with the fringes of the magic community to know that messing around with a book of evil magic was a very bad idea. But Ms. Marvel had saved my life earlier tonight. I owed that to her. Besides, Doctor Strange himself had said the Darkhold was the key to defeating Dormammu...

Decision made, I swiped a finger across my forehead. The blood reached from the tip down to the second knuckle as I lowered it to the Darkhold. Carefully, I smeared the blood on the cover, a long red line on the faded leather. “Ok. My blood. Work your voodoo. Bring Ms. Marvel back home.”

_...your command is mine to obey..._

In my hands, the Darkhold jumped. The cover fell open, revealing a page filled with words written in a language that burned my eyes. Before I could fully comprehend what I was seeing, the pages turned, flipping past rapidly. I held the book in both hands, one hand on the front and back covers, as the Darkhold turned its own pages. It came to a rest in a few seconds. Half of the page it had chosen was filled with a language I recognized as Latin. The other half was taken up by a drawing of a swirling circle. As I recognized the drawing as a representation of the portal above my head, piercing red light shot from the page. I would have shielded my eyes from the harsh glare, but my hands refused to move from the book, shackled in place by some unseen force. The portal above me turned the same color red as the light shining from the Darkhold, magical energy pouring from the book into the portal. All I could do was stand, spellbound if you'll ignore the pun. After a few seconds, the light slowed down, and began to shine in reverse. Now, the energy came from the portal, shining down onto the Darkhold.

_...she comes...be ready..._

“How?” The light grew brighter in answer to my question. The magic binding my hands in place squeezed them tightly, causing me to gasp in pain. The red portal bulged slightly, like an apple being dropped into a piece of tight Saran Wrap. And then came Ms. Marvel. The blonde dropped from the portal, hovering above the ground as she unconsciously used her powers of flight. “Where...Herman? Herman, is that you?”

As soon as she was through, the red light snapped off. The portal above our heads closed instantly, disappearing from this plane of reality without any fuss. My hands slammed the Darkhold shut, though I couldn't tell you if it was of its accord or mine. The Hall was lit only by the dim emergency lighting of the museum, leaving the two of us in shadow.

“Ms. Marvel...I am so damn glad to see you,” I told her as she landed gracefully on her feet. “Are you ok?”

“The feeling is mutual,” she replied. “I’m fine...whoa.” Her eyes had locked onto the impaled body of Baron Mordo, twitching on the ground at her feet. “What the hell happened here?”

“Mordo bet me I couldn’t break through his magical security system. He lost.” I should have said that with a bit of gusto, but it just sounded so hackneyed when I said it. “I got it, though.” Clutching the book in both hands, I held the Darkhold up. “This is it. This is what Strange said we needed to stop the zombies and defeat Dormammu.”

“You got it...” she said in disbelief. Then her face lit up as she realized my success. “You got it! Herman, that’s amazing!” Her smile almost lifted my spirits, but it soon fell away as she realized what my victory probably meant. “Aleksei,” she said quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. Mordo was controlling him like a puppet, sort of like when we fought the Hulk,” I replied in a neutral tone.

“Wow...Herman. I’m sorry.”

I just shrugged. “He was dead. Now he’s resting in peace. I’ll cope with my issues later.” A few seconds passed before my eyes met hers. “Thanks, though.”

After a nod, she motioned to the Darkhold in my hands. “Alright. So, we got the book. Now what the hell do we do with it?”

“I have no clue,” I answered honestly. “I’m an engineer, not a magician. I don’t even know how the hell I pulled you back from wherever the hell you had ended up.”

She cocked her head in confusion, leading me to explain what happened. “I grabbed the book, and...it told me that you could be brought back. It knew you...it called you Carol.” Her eyes narrowed a bit as I continued. “It...it said all I had to do...ah, Christ. I gave it some of my blood, and it brought you back.”

“You...you BLED on it? Herman,” Ms. Marvel said with alarm in her voice, “from everything we’ve heard, that’s a book of dark magic. It’s practically alive! And you GAVE it your own blood?”

“Hey, I had to get you back! And...I don’t know a thing about magic. I had to give the damn thing a jumpstart!”

“Well...that just doesn’t strike me as a wise thing to have done, Herman.”

“Welcome to my life,” I groused. “Look, you’re back, right? Somehow, I used the book to bring you back. Maybe I can figure out what Baron Mordo and the Grim Reaper were going to do with this thing and reverse it.” I looked up at her, trying to talk out the theory going through my head. “The plague didn’t start with this book, right? It started with Reaper getting his hands on something from another dimension and sacrificing the Hood to start the spread. They wanted this book because Mordo said it’d give them greater control over the zombies. It’s...it’s like you said earlier. If this thing can control the living dead, maybe it can stop them somehow.”

_...can help...can stop the dead from rising..._

I looked at her. “Don’t think I’m nuts, but did you hear that whisper?”

“What whisper?”

“Damn. The book’s talking to me.” She raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “No, seriously, it’s whispering to me.”

_...can stop the dead from rising..._

“And it’s telling me it can stop the dead from rising.”

After a second, Ms. Marvel sighed. “I’m sorry, Herman. I’m just...the fate of the world is in the hands of a criminal engineer and a book of evil magic. I’ve taken on aliens, fought demons from another world, lost my powers, gained my powers back...and this is easily the situation that’s boggling my mind the most.” She studied me for a second. “But...you haven’t been wrong yet. Foolish and stubborn, but not wrong. During this crisis, you’ve been at the center of everything. That first night when you saved those civilian outside that 7-11 and became a YouTube sensation. Getting all those villains to work together with us heroes instead of taking advantage of the situation. Stopping the Hulk. Getting the attention of Norman Osborn, the Grim Reaper, and Dormammu. And now, in your hands, the one thing that’s going to end this whole mess and put things back to normal.” A smile formed on her face, stretching from ear to ear after a few seconds. “Herman Schultz. The center of the universe.”

“Yeah...” I looked down at the book in my hands, its promise of ending the plague of the living dead looping in my head, a faint whisper as I mulled over the current situation and Ms. Marvel’s words. “Fred was right. Maybe this is what I wanted, deep down inside. But...this is too damn much. I could barely beat Spider-Man. I hid from the Punisher and the Scourge of the Underworld. Anytime I stuck my head up, I got it kicked in. Hell, I haven’t had a date in three years. And now...I’m supposed to save the world?” I glanced up at the blonde Avenger. “I wish my self-esteem would make up its mind. I think I can, I know I can’t, I think I can, I know I can’t”

She sighed. “Herman, you’re thinking way too much. Your actions over this past week...your actions tonight...you can do this. Trust me. Some of the people on the Avengers have way more issues than you do.” I scoffed at her statement, I couldn’t help it. “What? We’re not gods, Herman. We’re just ordinary people given extraordinary gifts who happen to end up at the right place at the right time to do good. And if that’s not the story of the Shocker over the past week, then I don’t know what is. Suck it up...you’re a good guy now, and when push comes to shove, the good guys don’t lose.” Ms. Marvel pointed a finger at me, shaking it for emphasis. "We...do...not...lose. Herman, the call is from heroism. Will you accept the charges?”

“Yeah...it figures heroism would call me collect...” My head snapped up. “Wait. Was that a ‘Simpsons’ quote? You just quoted ‘the Simpsons’ at me?”

“It’s appropriate. And you haven’t answered my question.” Toned arms crossed across her firm chest. “It’s in your hands, Herman. Your call.”

You’ve read this far into the story. What do you think my decision was?

“Alright, Ms. Marvel,” I said, tucking the Darkhold under my arm. “Let’s end this.”

“Whoa.” West Drive was lit up with streaks of tracer fire and bolts of blue energy. To the north, on the shores of the Reservoir, yellow repulsor beams split the sky in front of the portal’s red glare. And to the south, the sounds of gunfire drifted to our ears, as Osborn’s men swept that side of the park, led by the Trapster and Deadpool. “It’s like something out of a movie,” I said softly, in awe of the canvas of violence and mayhem spread out before me.

“Yeah, ‘Avatar’ meets ‘Night of the Living Dead.’” Ms. Marvel walked over to the double doors leading up to where we stood, a fire axe in her hand. As I stared at the firepower being put up in defense, I heard her say “actually, replace ‘Avatar’ with ‘Apocalypse Now.’” She jammed the axe into the handles of the door. With ease, the long metal handle of the fire axe was twisted into a knot, tying the two handles together. Ms. Marvel clapped her hands together as she stepped back. “Alright. Any zombie that manages to shamble up here isn’t going to be able to break through that.” She walked back towards where I was standing, the Darkhold still under my arm as I watched the light show. “And if a horde does show up, it’ll give us plenty of warning.”

Ms. Marvel stood next to me for a moment. In silence, we watched the zombie horde creep towards the barricades. The sheer number of dead bodies scattered all over the Great Lawn was a major impediment to the undead, and they still marched on, crawling and stumbling over the pile of their brethren. “Herman...you’re up right this, right?”

“I don’t know.” I held the ancient tome in front of me. My blood still glistened wetly in the moonlight on its cover. “But what choice do we have? You heard Iron Man when you finally got through to him. Doctor Strange is still missing, no one’s seen Thor or Electro since they took their swim in the reservoir, everyone else is still fighting Reaper and his crew, and the last thing we need is to bring the Darkhold to the portal and let the Grim Reaper have a shot as getting this thing back. The only real mystical asset we have is Ares, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking the chance of Norman Osborn realizing what we’ve got. He’d rip it from our hands and probably make Dormammu a counter-offer.” I sighed, a bit of resignation and a bit of worry mixed together. “The Darkhold talked to me. I told it to bring you back, and it listened. If Doctor Strange shows up, I will gladly shove this thing in his hands and take my place on the firing line. Until then...well, I’m gonna see if I can figure out what makes this thing tick.”

“Don’t take it too lightly,” Ms. Marvel cautioned. “You might end up way over your head.”

“Too freakin’ late.”

Ms. Marvel and I stood on the roof of Belvedere Castle. Built on Vista Rock, one of the highest points in Central Park, the elevated structure gave us a clear view of the madness that had descended upon the city. And it was also one of the few places that the living dead weren’t threatening, which is why we had chosen this location to try to crack the Darkhold, as opposed to staying in the Museum of Natural History, which had been surrounded by zombies. The large majority of them still streamed, like a wave of suicidal soldiers, to the SHIELD barricades, dying in droves in the face of such firepower. But small packs continued to break off, stumbling towards the sound of gunfire coming from the south end of the park, the refugees and their defenders holding their own private war. And a few, in singles or in pairs, wandered their own path, the tell-tale lure of gunfire failing to draw their interest.

“They’re not...as organized as they were,” I observed. The straps of the compressor bit into my shoulder. “Before,” I said, readjusting the weight of the compressor, “damn near every zombie was going for the barricade, and the rest were going after the refugees who split from the pack. Now...they’re spreading out. Hell, look at that bunch.” I pointed towards the water’s edge, where a group of ghouls were splashing in the shallow water. “What are they doing? Going for a swim?”

“They’re coming for us, Herman. They know we’re up here.” Yeah, as I looked closer, the mob was making their way in our direction. “Don’t worry,” Ms. Marvel said, “they can’t get up here. And if they get close, I’ll pick them off.” She turned to face me, a look of concern etched on her face. “Be careful, and tread lightly. A guy like Doctor Strange is wary of the power this book has. It might swallow your soul or something.”

“Thanks for the thought.” I set the book on the edge of the parapet, resting it flat on the stone surface. “Just watch my back. The last thing I need is someone jumping me from behind while I’m trying to figure out the magical equivalent of one plus one.”

Ms. Marvel rubbed her hands together. “Don’t worry.” Cracking her knuckles, it sounded like the distant sound of thunder. “No zombie’s going to take a bite out of you, I promise.”

“Thanks, Ms. Marvel,” I said as I reached out for the obscene cover of the Darkhold.

“Carol.”

My hand paused, hovering over the book. “Huh?”

“You can call me Carol, Herman.” I turned to look at her, one of my eyebrows raised in disbelief. She shrugged her shoulders at the expression on my face. “Mordo called me by my first name, and apparently that book did as well according to what you told me. So...by this point, I think you and I are on a first-name basis, Herman.”

“Huh,” the only response I really could make. So all it took was the end of the world and fighting side by side to get her attention. I jotted that down for future reference. “Tell you what. As long as you’re in the costume, you’re Ms. Marvel. If we ever sit down for a cup of coffee, you’re Carol. Deal?”

A small grin answered my question before her words did. “Deal.” She nodded to the Darkhold. “Go ahead and work your magic, Herman. I got you covered.”

I really could have used a drink of water as I cracked open the book. It fell open to a random page, the paper crinkled and yellowed from the ravages of time. The drawing on the page was still legible, the words only a warm sensation on my eyes as opposed to the sharp heat back in the museum. “Alright,” I said quietly, “let’s you and I have a talk.”

_...await your questions..._

The whisper...I would have expected something that came out of the mouth of the Vulture, a high, raspy, scratchy voice that grated on my ears. Instead, the Darkhold’s voice was comforting, spoken calmly in a time of great danger and peril. That put me on edge. I had dealt with enough lowlifes and criminals to know that when people got polite and soothing, it was because the knife was going in your back the second your guard went down.

_...do not fear...are yours now..._

...how the hell? “Damn it, don’t read my mind.”

The whisper gave a low chuckle in response, the sound of an audience in a quiet room trying to hold back their laughter. _...do not have to...your body speaks..._

“Cut the psychiatry,” I said, holding myself a little more upright. “We’re running out of time. You said back in the Museum you could stop the dead from rising. Were you bs’ing me, or telling the truth?”

_...truth...speak the truth..._

“Alright. How?”

_...emptiness..._

“...ok, that really doesn’t help me out here.”

_...emptiness..._

“Same thing, still not helping,” I sighed. “Come on, can’t you be a little less cryptic and a little more direct?”

_...blood..._

Oh, just peachy.

“Man...Darkhold, I said it earlier, I’m not going to keep giving you my blood.”

_...blood...communicate...strengthen our bond...belong to you now...blood_

“I get it. So if I give you more blood, you’ll stop talking like a fortune teller and start making sense?”

_...strengthen our bond...

“Damn it. I’m going to regret this.” But I didn’t have a choice, did I? The cut on my forehead had dried itself shut over the past few minutes. I had to dig a bit with my finger, sawing the rough fabric across the wound, wincing as my armor touched the raw flesh underneath. The disapproving stare of Ms. Marvel...Carol...burned on the back of my neck as the blood began to flow again, one drop running down my face like I had cut myself shaving. My teeth ground together as I smeared blood all over my fingers. This was NOT the best idea I ever had. But I had to communicate with this thing somehow. And it wasn’t like I was opening a vein and bleeding all over it.

A content sigh breezed through my mind as I pressed my bloody fingers onto the page. The dark liquid was a stark contrast to the yellowed paper. It pooled on the parchment, settling on top of it instead of sinking in and staining the page.

_...our bond strengthens, Herman, through your blood..._

It was still a quiet voice, but the words were much clearer in my head, like they had sliced through the mental background noise.

“Ok, I can hear you now,” I acknowledged, pulling my fingers back. “You said blackness and emptiness. What does that have to do with these things?”

_...they are empty...it fills every part of their being...it is what drives them...the craving to fill that void with what they lack..._

“Life,” I found myself saying. “They lack life.”

_...they lack life...they lack death...they lack anything that makes them more than pure instinct...they seek to fill the most basic need any being in this universe holds..._

Flashes of my high school psychology class flared from my memories. A crusty old teacher with blue hair pointing at a triangle on the blackboard. “Food.”

_...you are a smart one, Herman...the hungry dead can't fulfill their most basic need...driven to fill their bellies in vain..._

That cold chill went through my body again. Now I knew why they wanted warm flesh, and why every moan that a zombie made held that sense of need, that soul scraping sound of unfulfilled desires. A hole that they couldn't full, the one thing every human being needed to function...and these parodies of life couldn't fill that hole no matter how much flesh they stuff inside their bodies.

_...can show you..._

The quiet voice brought me back from my thoughts. “Show me? Show me what?”

_...we can show you the emptiness...feel what they feel...see what they see..._

“Uh...no way. I don't want to become one of those things. Not on your damn life.”

_...no...see the world through their eyes...the emptiness, Herman...know all about the emptiness...

“Damn it,” I growled towards the tome, “we don't have that kind of time.”

_...patience, Herman...there is always time enough to do what’s necessary...see the world...see the emptiness..._

My fingers twitched. I watched as my bloodstained glove reached out towards the Darkhold of...well, not their own accord, but I damn sure well wasn't about to take the book up on its offer. “I said we don't have time.” I tried to pull my hand back, but the same sharp, pressing pain that had kept my hands on the Darkhold back in the museum snapped around my wrist, pulling my hand forward.

_...see the emptiness..._

I tried to resist the force, but with a sudden surge, my hand slammed down on the open book. Tendrils of black energy wrapped around my hand, reaching up from the ink scribbled across the page. My hand went cold, icy veins spreading quickly up my arm.

_...see the emptiness..._

_...see..._

*****

Hunger.

Feet wet. Hunger, a roaring fire in my belly.

Flashes of light. Hunger, a ball of ice rolling about in my stomach.

Movement in front. Hunger, a javelin piercing my insides.

Forward, towards the movement. Hunger, tearing my intestines into pieces.

I could see Belvedere Castle in the distance. I must have...

Hunger. There...

...been down on the shore of Turtle Pond. In front of...

Hunger. Up in the castle...

...me was the stone pile myself and Ms. Marvel...

Hunger. Flesh. Skin. Bone.

...were standing on top of.

Hunger. Muscle. Blood. Sinew. The feeling of hunger crashed over me like a tsunami. _What the hell...what did you do?_

_...need to see what they see...feel what they feel..._

_No, I don't! They're dead, they're killing this planet, and all I need to see is each one of them put back in the ground where they belong! And you said you could help me do it!_

_...you're an engineer...your view is narrow minded...see all facets...all possibilities..._

There wasn't anything to see. The zombie I was riding along with stumbled along the shore of Turtle Pond, at the foot of Belvedere Castle. It was surrounded by a few of its brethren, all moving in the direction of the castle.

That's all I could tell you about what the zombie was doing. Because the hunger was just too much. From the instant the Darkhold shoved me into this zombie's mind, this hollow pit covered every fiber of my being. Every thought...I don't know if you can call it a thought...no, every instinct this zombie had revolved around its hunger, the urge to feed driving it onward.

_Get me out of here!_

_...imagine it, Herman...driven for eternity by one urge..._

_I don't need to, I don't WANT to! Pull me back, damn it!_

It overwhelmed me. I felt it, the pure NEED to sink my teeth into flesh. Imagine craving a cigarette when it's below zero and there's a foot of snow on the ground. Imagine lying in a hospital bed, your body ripped open by an explosion, begging for morphine to dull the pain. Imagine seeing that girl or guy across a crowded bar, the one that causes your heart to ache. Add those sensations together, those senses of longing and want. A cokehead in withdrawal, begging for one line. A coffee addict with a New Year's resolution to quit caffeine cold turkey. Throw them in there. Multiply that total by a factor of one hundred. And you haven't even BEGUN to comprehend the hole that the hunger was tearing at the zombie. There was nothing else. No memories. No personality. No ticks, no quirks. There was nothing inside this zombie to differentiate it from any other corpse, save its mobility.

_...you see now, Herman...nothing...every one...nothing..._

My vision shifted instantly. The Brooklyn Bridge burned at the top of the off-ramp as I wandered towards a Marine reloading his assault rifle, the taste of warm blood copper in my mouth.

_...nothing..._

Shift. The sign on the flat grass read “WELCOME TO IOWA” as I stood, motionless, in a corn field, the only sound the whisper of rustling stalks. Hunger.

_...nothing..._

Shift. I slapped my hand against the fortified door of a movie star's mansion in Los Angeles, moaning to draw the attention of anyone who could help me break through and reach the woman cowering behind it.

_...nothing..._

Shift. My teeth tore into the leg of the handcuffed convict. The screams from my meal did nothing to deter me as I ripped a chunk of his calf away, wet blood quenching the fire.

_...nothing..._

Shibuya Crossing was dark, the screens towering over Tokyo's equivalent to Times Square. In the far distance, a dim light shined from the top of a skyscraper, blinking in a coded pattern. It would take me days to reach it, the hunger ripping at my insides with each step.

_...nothing..._

Bullets tore into my body, slapping at my decaying skin as the bullets from the Russian soldiers were blown off-course due to the howling Siberian wind. Zombies felt into the deep snowdrifts on either side of me, the blood from their head wounds freezing upon contact with the frigid air. I drove myself forward through the howling blizzard towards the source of the gunfire, heedless of the projectiles ripping me apart.

_...nothing..._

_Stop it!_

_...nothing..._

_Stop it!_

_...nothing..._

“STOP IT!”

*****

I pulled away from the Darkhold, the metal of my gauntlets cold against my skin as I pressed my hands against the side of my head. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

“Herman! HERMAN!” Another pair of hands grabbed at my wrists, holding me in place. The blue eyes of Ms. Marvel, wide with alarm, stared at me as she stopped me from staggering across the roof. “Herman, what’s wrong! Calm down!”

Deep breaths. I took several, my breath clouding the air between me and the Avenger. “Ok...I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“If you have to keep chanting you’re fine, Herman, you’re not.” She slowly let go of my hands, turning to glance at the book of magic sitting on the parapet. “What the hell happened?”

“That damn thing put me in the mind of a zombie.” My hands were on my hips now, and I sucked air like I had just finished running from the cops even though it was my mind, not my body, that had just been worked over. “Several of them, in fact. They’re hungry. They’re so damn hungry...they’re like a heroin addict going through withdrawal, but...it’ll never end. They’re going to starve forever.”

“Right. That’s it, Herman. You’re not playing around with that book anymore. We’ll guard it and keep the Grim Reaper or Osborn from getting their hands on it, but you’re not going back near that thing,” she said in a firm tome.

_...you will...you want to stop the hungry dead...if you don’t, no one will..._

“If I don’t stop them,” I told Ms. Marvel, “no one’s going to.” The words just came into my mouth, flowing automatically without thought. “We don’t have enough firepower to overcome every single zombie. Sooner or later, someone’s running out of ammo, that line will get overrun, and it’s game over for the Big Apple.”

_...you know us...we know you...bound together..._

“I’m fine. It was just overwhelming to get jammed into the head of an undead eating machine.” I turned back towards the book. “I know what I’m doing...”

“Like hell you do. Herman...”

“I got this.”

A hand on my shoulder. But not of comfort. She pinned me in place as her fingers dug into my skin, causing me to wince in pain. “Herman,” Ms. Marvel said from behind me. “No. That book’s evil. It’s luring you in. It’ll tell you lies and toy with you because you don’t know a damn thing about magic.”

“What about what you said back in the museum? How you had faith that I could pull this off?”

“I might have been wrong. Hell, I probably was wrong. It’s not you, Herman, it’s that damn book. You’re up to your neck in quicksand when it comes to that thing...”

“Yeah...but I got one thing going for me.” I tried to turn, but she kept her grip tight. “I’m clever. Hell, you know what? I’m damn brilliant. I built these gloves out of nothing, and I got a better track record against Spider-Man than any other villain. I’ve committed more crimes than the police ever found out about. I survived this past week with my wits and some damn good luck. The way I’m seeing it, I’m one of the smartest people on the damn planet, Ms. Marvel, and if there’s a way to crack that book and stop the living dead, I’m going to find it.”

“That’s hubris, Herman.”

I pointed out towards the battle raging below us. “That’s reality, Carol. And we don’t have the luxury of denying it anymore. I can pull this off. I know I can.”

After a few seconds, she pulled her hand back. “If that thing possesses you, Herman, I will take you out,” a cold voice said. “I won’t trade one Grim Reaper for another. If I even think you’re turning to the dark side...”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

I laid my hands back on the pages of the book.

_...you know what they are now..._

_So what did Baron Mordo want with you? What makes you so damn important? There was zombies around before he and Eric Williams got their hands on you._

_...it ties into how the zombies came about, Herman...listen carefully...Black Talon discovered another dimension that had been infected by the same plague that now lays waste to this one...he approached Dormammu’s servant, who you know as the Hood, with this information...when the Hood turned him away, Dormammu disowned his servant..he chose the Grim Reaper as his new servant on this Earth...he taught the Grim Reaper the proper rituals and spells to bring the plague through space and time...the Hood was the conduit...his ritual sacrifice spilled the necessary blood needed to invest the plague into his body..._

_Ok. Let me make sure I got this. Black Talon somehow finds out that there’s another dimension infected with zombies, and when Dormammu found out about it, he sacrificed the Hood and put the Grim Reaper in his place in order to bring whatever caused that plague to our dimension?_

_...accurate enough..._

_So...it all started with the Hood? Ok, so if we find the Hood and shoot him in the head, does that reverse the plague somehow?_

_...the Hood was destroyed by the Wrecker...he was only the initial conduit...his sacrifice allowed the plague to spread around the world instantly...the dead began to rise in all places..._

_Yeah, I saw it on TV. So, why? What did Dormammu have to gain from all of this?_

_...Doctor Strange banished him from this physical plane...the death of human beings releases life energy...the presence of the living dead generates death energy...the two of them together can provide a catalyst for Dormammu to force his way back to this plane..._

_And? What will be do once he gets here?_

_...Dormammu is to dimensions what Galactus is to planets...the Grim Reaper was to spread chaos and fear to add flavor to the energy that Dormammu would devour from this planet..._

_So he’s going to eat everything. Great. So where do you fit into the equation? Why did Williams need to get his hands on you?_

_...Dormammu can give his minions power to control the living dead...you experienced it first hand when you fought the being you knew as the Hulk...you experienced it first hand when you fought the being you knew as Aleksei..._

_Get to the point_

_...your anger is justified...their control over the living dead is limited...the more they inhabit, the less control they possess...would have acted as a means to enhance their control...power increasing exponentially...to drive the horde with a purpose...not simply to feed...but to feed from a certain herd...to push towards a location instead of wandering aimlessly..._

_You’re a guidance system._

_...much more, Herman...direction...control...purpose...all these things...see for yourself..._

_No, no! Don’t you..._

****

I braced myself for the hunger to slam into my stomach like a wrecking ball.

_...hunger doesn’t control...you control...we control..._

_Jesus Christ!_

On either side of me, zombies pawed at the base of Vista Rock. I stepped backwards, trying to quickly extract myself before they realized I was there and decided I’d make a tasty snack...

I felt stiff, like I had just gotten out of bed in the morning. My head lolled to one side as I took a halting step backwards, planting my foot on the ground. The world itself was a bit blurry, but I could easily make out everything around me through a red haze. The sounds of gunfire behind me...they weren’t loud, but they resonated in my ears, more distinct than the natural sound of water lapping on shore.

_...you are one of them now, Herman...try to move..._

My arm came up slowly. I could see the two remaining fingers and the large chunk of flesh missing from my wrist. No pain, just a sense of missing digits.

_Whoa._

_...this is but a taste, Herman..._

I don’t know how to describe it. It...it was picture-in-picture, but my vision didn’t get divided. Another scene was overlaid on top of the view I had, but I could easily make them both out without confusion. This time, the zombie was making its way towards the front door to Belvedere Castle, a few of her fellow ghouls in her wake.

_...control..._

I raised my other arm. Two arms lifted into the air as the second zombie came to a halt and both of them lifted their arms. It felt...natural. I wasn’t splitting my attention between security monitors...it was just something easy, like driving stick shift for two cars at the same time. Which is impossible. But I was doing it.

_...control..._

Two jumped to eight, not stopping at four.

_...speak your will, Herman..._

_Ok. Um...I command you to stop._

The crowd moving towards the entrance to the Castle stopped. One fell down, his gnawed ankle snapping as I put all my weight on it, but that was just a dull thump to me even as he slammed into the rocky ground.

And eight jumped to seventeen. Everything was laid out before me. The zombies surrounding Belvedere Castle were stationary and silent, swaying gently in place. Each of them, I knew what they were doing, what they were staring at. No hunger, no thoughts, no actions. All of them, waiting for...me, to tell them what to do.

_...control...power...speak your will, Herman..._

As a test, they all raised their right arms, joining the first two. No delay, no lag, no hesitation.

_...the blood...it’s in their eyes...it speaks to them...you speak to them...you learn quick, almost as quick as the being you know as the Grim Reaper and the being you know as Baron Mordo..._

_And the Grim Reaper and Baron Mordo...they could do this? What I’m doing right now?_
_...with my assistance, Herman, controlling such empty minds...such willing puppets...can be easily done..._

I had to test it out. You have seventeen zombies at your beck and call. What the hell else could I have done?

Sixteen zombies clicked their heels together, the seventeenth following an instant later, slapping the foot on his good leg against the one on his bad leg. As a group, they slid to their left, shoulders shaking as they got back up to a standing position. And a bunny hop. And now a shuffling turn...

_...FOOL..._

*****

Pain ripped through my head, jabbing directly at my brain, red hot knitting needles sliding deep into my lobes. I screamed in agony, trying to rip my hands away from the pages of the Darkhold, but something held me in places, unseen thorns piercing my wrists to maintain our physical connection.

_...SUCH POWER IS A GIFT...IT IS NOT SOMETHING TO BE USED IN A MOCKING MANNER..._

“Damn...it...when you get a new car...you...you have to TEST DRIVE it!”

The pain in my skull flared for a moment, before suddenly cutting off. The deep pinpricks in my wrist relaxed as I gasped for breath, my chin on my chest.

“Herman, damn it,” I could hear Ms. Marvel say, “talk to me! What the hell is that book doing to you?”

“Apparently,” I said between deep breaths, “the Darkhold doesn’t got a sense of humor.” After a second, I added, “I think the damn thing gave me a hate stroke,” as I felt blood trickle out of my nose.

“I’m sorry, Herman, but you really should pull the damn plug on this...”

“I can control them.” I turned to look at her. I must have been a sight, with an open cut on my forehead, blood dripping from my nose, and who knows how sunken or bloodshot my eyes were. “I was controlling them, Ms. Marvel. I was in their heads, the one down below us. They danced. I told them to dance, and they danced.”

“You...made them dance?”

“How the hell else could I make sure they could do what I wanted them to do, and that it wasn’t some kind of Darkhold trick?”

“Herman, it’s making you dance to its tune. It’s showing you what it wants to show you.”

I held up a hand, palm out. “Don’t you...”

“I’m not going to stop you, Herman, but just remember this,” Ms. Marvel told me. “You’re seeing what it wants you to see.”

“I know...it’s like having vertigo while being in a damn house of mirrors. The damn thing’s shoving me in so many different heads, I have to make sure this one’s mine.” Drums beat in my head as I felt the blood pulse through my brain.

“Damn it.” Ms. Marvel crossed her arms, staring at my bleeding visage. “I don’t know what to think, Herman. Part of me wants to just pull you out of here and let the professionals handle this, and the other part thinks you’re going to make this work. I feel so damn useless.”

I put on my best smile, trying hard not to add any smirk to it. “You’re my fail-safe. If things really get bad, you’re the lab assistant who pulls the plug when the machine starts sparking. Trust me, you’re not useless. If you think I’m over my head, I mean REALLY over my head...you know what to do. But I have this. Just...let me do my thing.”

As I turned to look back down at the tome, a drop of blood fell from where it had bled from my nose. It impacted the book, and again, a delightful sigh breezed through my brain. “That’s the last drop you’re getting,” I said out loud as I wiped the blood away with my suit’s sleeve. “Ms. Marvel’s right. You’ve been kicking my ass, and that stops, now, unless you want to get turned into toilet paper.”

_...you needed to see, Herman...you needed to experience it...show, don’t tell..._

_Well, it ain’t an excuse for abusing me._

_...you will respect...you must respect..._

_Alright, alright, I respect you. But let’s save the ass-kissing for later. So, I can control zombies and just make them stand still?_

_...yes...but more...much more...you can control them, Herman...an army of the undead...at your command..._

_...yeah. That’s where it starts. You show me the apple and I take a bite, and next thing I know, you have my soul and I’m taking the Grim Reaper’s place. Forget that noise. Just show me how to stop the dead from rising, like you said you could._

_...so much wasted potential, Herman...you should have been on the pedestal...you should have the accolades and the press...not Spider-Man...not Norman Osborn..._

_Right now, I don’t care._

_...you do..._

_I don’t!_

_...your blood lets me know you...your blood seethes...your hearts boils...you fear being forgotten..._

_A couple of days ago, that argument would have worked. Not now, pal._

_...so much more...so much potential..._

_Saving the world and being recognized as a hero by civilians and...what Thor said to me means more than anything than you could offer me. And right now, I’ve got a damn Avenger watching my back. Anything you can offer right is just a second-rate knockoff that fell off the back of a truck._

_...you could be king..._

_Yeah. Right now, the king’s getting his ass kicked by Wonder Man, his right-hand man is pinned to the floor of the Museum of Natural History with a dinosaur bone, and I’m holding the one thing that can stop the king’s grand plan. It ain’t good to the king._

_...very well...you wish to stop the living dead..._

_Damn right. You said you can help me put these ghouls down and stop them from rising again._

_...the plague that animates the living dead is still present...any living human being will become one of them...can not only put the living dead to rest...but can use the portal currently under Dormammu’s control to send the plague back to its dimension of origin..._

_And that’ll do it? Dead will stay dead?_

_...yes..._

_Fine. Great. So let’s do it._

_...it is difficult..._

_Guess it would be, huh? So, what, we need a real, professional wizard like Doctor Strange as opposed to some schmuck like me, huh?_

_...the rituals and spells are located within my pages..._

_So, you can do it yourself? Automatically?_

_...of a sort..._

_Great! Alright, so what do you need me to do?_

_...cannot cast the spell directly...need a human being to act...the word ‘ignition’ is the closest to a term you would understand..._

_Got it. You need me to actually start everything. Right. Um...you’re not going to possess me or jump into my head, are you?_

_...not required..._

_Good. So...go ahead. Unwind the spell. Reverse the plague. Send these guys back to where they belong, six feet under._

_...it is difficult..._

_Why? You said you can do it, go ahead and do it!_

_...it is difficult..._

_Great. The catch. Always a damn catch._

_...blood..._

_Blood? Of course. How much of my blood are we talking here?_

_...your blood strengthens our bond...no more of yours is required..._

_So you need someone else’s blood?_

_...the plague was brought forth by a portal opened through the sacrifice of the Hood upon the altar...only an equal sacrifice can provide the power to open a new portal..._

_So...I...I have to find a HUMAN sacrifice?_

_...yes..._

_Oh, no. Hell no. Forget that. There is NO way I’m going to slice someone open! There has to be another way!_

_...follow the logic, Herman...the death energy of human sacrifice ripped open the portal...only the death energy of human sacrifice can seal it shut..._

_No! It’s not a damn option!_

_...it is not an option...it is the only choice..._

_Well forget it!_

_...blood...it is the only way...this city will become a graveyard...the Earth a tomb..._

_Damn it. No...ok, fine. Fine. Me. I’ll do it. Use me._

_...you must cast the spell...your blood is what binds us...without you, the tether will be lost..._

_You suckered me in! Ms. Marvel was right! You suckered me!_

_...blood...it is the only way..._

I had been played for the sap. Ms. Marvel was right. I was so far out of my league. But follow the logic. The power source that jumpstarted all this was a human sacrifice. The way to end it? It made sense.

_...her...use her..._

_Who?_

_...the one you know as Carol Danvers..._

_Carol...Ms. Marvel? No! She’s got my back! She saved my life!_

_...she is an Avenger...they are prone to sacrifice...just think of her upon the altar...her life force will instantly flow into me, fueling the ritual...she will feel no pain..._

_Forget it!_

_...Spider-Man, then...you loathe him...he has always been your better...his death will fuel your glory..._

_No! Damn it, stop tempting me!_

...Peter Petruski...he poisoned you...think of him upon the altar..._

_Absolutely not! No one else dies!_

_...Osborn...ah...his name...you have thought of killing him recently...his name is painful to your heart...Norman Osborn...you wish your vengeance upon him...use him...think of him upon the altar..._

_No! It’s murder! And I won’t become a murderer, even to save the world!_

_...being a hero Herman means making the hard choices...if you can’t make this one, how can you even consider yourself a hero...Norman Osborn...he is evil, Herman...he killed your best friend...he tried to kill you...you don’t think he has a plan...or that the vision the Grim Reaper saw did not have basis in truth...the empire of ashes and rubble will come to pass, Herman...Osborn...Osborn..._

_It would be that easy. Just think about sacrificing him, and that’s it?_

_...he can feel agony during his sacrifice, should you so choose..._

_No. No, that’s the easy way out. Maybe I’m all for not doing any real work, but I always did my best to make sure no one died...and I’m not going to let the end of the world change that.._

_...you have changed, Herman...the old you has passed away...do not hold on to old feelings and old ideas..._

_There’s a way. There’s always a way. There’s always a third option._

_...blood...it’s the only way..._

*****

Who was Norman Osborn?

A former villain. A current villain. Mad man. Schemer. Murderer. The blood of Aleksei was on his hands. He tried to kill me. He was walking around in a suit of armor that looked and probably fought like Iron Man’s. He had a team of psychopaths and villains and obviously had big plans for them.

And I had defied him. And more importantly, I had defied him and lived.

What was to stop him from coming after me? A week, a month, a year later, I’m sure I’d wake up to Mac Gargan breaking down my door. Or have a playing card flicked into my head by Bullseye. Or hell, Moonstone giving me death by snu-snu. In any case, even now, in the eyes of Norman Osborn, I was a dead man walking, a loose end to be tied up. Why the hell shouldn’t I get him first? If I had had an open shot at the Scourge of the Underworld years ago, I would have popped him in a heartbeat. This wasn’t premeditated murder. This was self-defense...

...no. That’s the easy way out. The fact that Osborn crossed the line and committed murder time and time again, doing it without a second thought, and I hadn’t, was the difference between me and him, maybe the only difference. He might have been living in the jet set and I was counting out dimes for a Cup’O’Noodles, but I never had another human being’s blood on my hands. I scraped and bribed and planned and scouted and did everything I could to keep civilians casualties to a bare minimum, while Osborn just dropped a pumpkin bomb or two on a crowd, taking the path of least resistance...

...

...

...bingo.

_Alright. Let’s do it your way._

_...you have made the right decision...just think the name..._

_No. No, I won’t kill anyone. We’re going to do what you suggested before. The zombies. I want them._

_...your army..._

_Damn right. You said you can make me king._

_...control...an eternal army...humanity at your beck and call..._

_I can do anything with them. I can turn them away from the civilians. I can send them at Norman Osborn._

_...yes..._

_I can send them at the Trapster._

_...yes!..._

_And I can send them at Spider-Man._

_...YES!..._

_Alright, then. Put me in control._

_...blood..._

_No. No more blood._

_...it is difficult..._

_I don’t care. You’ve spent the past couple of thousand of millennia putting together enough spells to make a fundamentalist go ‘Jesus Christ.’ If you’re so big and bad, if you’re as powerful as you’re making yourself out to be, then do what I say._

_...blood..._

_You need me. I’m the engine. I’m the ignition. Without me, you’re nothing but a couple of musty pages waiting for the next Harry Potter. You want me to use you? Fine. Then do what I asked...no, what I commanded. Put me in control._

_...yes..._

My head exploded with light for a split second. And then I was looking at Belvedere Castle through seventeen sets of eyes.

_...yours to command...what is thy bidding..._

_Oh, no. Not just these. More. There’s about ten thousand zombies in Central Park. Put me in control._

_...blood..._

_You heard me the first time. I gave you my blood, and that means we’re bonded. That means I’m your damn boss, and you’re going do what I say._

_...no! I am...we are..._

_...no, you ain’t. You fight back against me and either I shut this book and let you sit until someone else comes to pick you up, which is unlikely since everyone will be dead, or you kill me and no one else is dumb enough to try to use you. I’m running this monkey farm now, and I wanna know...what the hell are you doing with my time? There’s ten thousand zombies out there, and I want them._

_...powerful...sensory overload...too many at once..._

_Don’t think so. Try me. Bet I prove you wrong._

_...fine...as you command...open your eyes, Herman...and embrace forever..._

Seventeen became eleven thousand, nine hundred and twenty seven...twenty five...nineteen...as the hail of gunfire at West Drive tore into the horde. Eighteen, now, as a throwing star flicked by Bullseye embedded itself deep in the brain of a ghoul. I saw nearly the whole of the Great Lawn as the zombies strode across the grass, and the large hole in the barricade where they continued to stream through, and the gray plasteel as they shuffled along the sidewalks and avenues towards the open hole. All of it. Every eye, every footstep, I felt. Every motion sensed.

_Stop._

Eleven thousand, nine hundred, and eighteen zombies stopped instantly in their tracks. With a mental snap of my fingers, they all became still, no movement, no motion, nothing. Along the streets, the quiet rustle of clothing and creaking bone was the only sound. In the park, the gunfire never let up, the soldiers and Thunderbolts either not noticing or taking full advantage of the lull.

And Iron Man decked an unmoving Nekra in the face. Her confusion, and the confusion of four other of the Grim Reaper’s servants at being unable to move, were the only emotions in my head.

I had them.

I had them all. Every single zombie in Central Park was at my beck and call. I could make them dance. I could push them forward. I could pull them back. Stand still. Sit down. Stand up. Eat. Starve. Feed.

I had an army.

_...impressive...what is your command for your legions, Herman?_

I smiled.

_Simple._

I sent the command out to eleven thousand, eight hundred, and ninety-nine zombies.

_Rest in peace._

*****

The anguished whisper in my head scraped across my brain before I pulled my hands away from the Darkhold.

_...!..._

Ashes to ashes, they all fell down. My vision snapped back to the top of Belvedere Castle as the sound of over eleven thousand corpses hitting the street and lawn echoed softly over the entire park. The gunfire from the barricade soon slacked off a moment afterwards as the dead bodies settled in their final repose. It took a few seconds for me to recognize the sound of silence at it settled over Central Park. No gunfire. No screaming civilians. No barking orders. Just the sounds of fires burning elsewhere in the city.

With one word, I had just killed over eleven thousand ghouls.

“Top that, Ares,” I said quietly.

“Herman,” a stunned voice said beside me. “Was that you?”

I looked over at Ms. Marvel. Her jaw was open, her eyes wide as she stared over the carpet of twice-dead bodies that now covered a good bit of central Central Park. “Tell me you did this.”

The smile on my face was small and determined, but to me, it felt a mile wide. “Hell yeah, Ms. Marvel. That was all me. And I’m not done yet.” She looked at me, head held still in shock, as I jammed my hands back down onto the Darkhold’s open pages.

“You and me, book. We’re going to finish this.”

*****

_...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?_

_I commanded them to die. And they did. You were right. I am in total control._

_...that was your army...they were your soldiers..._

_What they were was a gathering of eleven thousand corpses. All I did was tell them do what corpses should do. It’s simple. The natural state of any body is rest. That’s physics. The natural state of a dead body is death. That’s biology. Add them together, and that’s science, and science trumps magic any day of the damn week. Corpses should be at rest, not walking around hungry, craving human flesh. Basically, to use terms YOU might understand, I told the dead to stop screwing around and go back to being dead._

_...such power...such an army...wasted..._

_Power? You ain’t seen power yet. I want you to shove me into the mind of every zombie in the Tri-State Area, right now._

_...you will just kill them..._

_Damn right I will. Now, you’re the magic book, I’m the temporary wizard, and I’m commanding you, pal, put me in their heads!_

Instantly, I was there. And the Darkhold took me literally. New York City...Newark...Stamford...Hartford...Albany...Buffalo...New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Zombies numbering in the hundreds of thousands, shuffling, reaching, clawing, feeding...

_Rest now. Rest in peace._

And all across those three states, the ghouls collapsed.

_...how are you doing this...you shouldn’t be able to do this...you have no experience...no control..._

_I got plenty of control. Haven’t you been paying attention, or have you been too busy being my bitch? The Eastern Seaboard. Now._

From the snow covered pine trees outside Bangor to the palm trees swaying in the warm breezes of a burning Miami, a multitude of images existing simultaneously in my mind.

_ Rest now. Rest in peace._

Even as they fell all across the East Coast, I was moving on. _The Midwest. Rest. Texas. Rest. The Great Lakes. Rest. The United States. Rest. North America. Rest.

It all flashed through my mind like strobe lights, brief images of the continent, white tundra, harsh desert, small towns, large ghettos, rain, wind, moonlight. Each and every ghoul, all across the fruited plain and beyond, crashed at my command, the brief sparks of anti-life that drove them all snuffed out with just a thought from me.

_...fool...you’re so foolish, Herman..._

_Nah. I know what game you were playing at, Darkhold. This is easy. Just telling the dead to die? It’s easy. Killing Norman Osborn would have been easy. And then who was next? Spider-Man, because he pissed me off? Or how about a guy who owed me money and never paid off? That’s where you would have gotten your hooks into me, that slippery slope I’ve done my best to avoid my whole life. But not now. Now, I’m in control, and we’re going to end this in one final stroke. Give me the whole world. Every single stinking zombie on the planet._

Paris. Cairo. Seoul. Brisbane. Cape Town. Sao Paulo. All in my head. I could see humanity wiped out, streets empty of all but the dead. I could see humans fighting on, barricades, locked doors, automatic weapons, baseball bats. The whole world in my head. It would have driven anyone else insane, to see through the eyes of nearly two billion zombies. Not me, though. I had my trick. I had my little technique, my realization of how to end the zombie plague. And it was about to work.

_...throwing it all away! Everything could be yours, Herman! Such power! I can give it to you! Do not do this..._

_Sorry. I like my world old school, where the dead stay dead. Rest now. Rest in peace._

And they all did.

*****

Carefully, I closed the cover to the Darkhold. The pages weighed heavily against my hand, the binding pushing back against my fingers, resisting my efforts. In my mind, the book pleaded, cajoling me, offering me the entire world. Fame. Money. Women. Power. All those things that, barely a week ago, I would have given damn near anything for with hardly a thought to any of the repercussions. Tonight, my hand gave a hard shove. With a small, heavy boom, the book slammed shut. On the cover, my blood still glistened, but already the wetness was beginning to fade.

My head...I don’t know how to describe it. Ever had a really good workout? You pushed yourself as far as you could, shoving yourself to the limit and then right beyond it. Your body’s sore, your muscles aching, and you know, in your mind, getting out of bed that next morning’s really going to blow. But still, you’re alive. You feel...awesome. Incredible. Well, that’s how I felt at that moment. My brain felt like it was going through caffeine withdrawal, and at some point in the next few hours, odds are I was going to slide down a wall, curl up in the fetal position, and cry as my brain finally decrypts what the hell I just did and why I should be in a coma with no hope of recovery. For the moment, though...

“It’s over,” I said, one hand on the stone edge of Belvedere Castle. “It’s all over. Everywhere. The dead are dead again.”

She had been staring out over the parapet, staring into the distance where the zombies, few minutes ago, had attacked the barricades. When I spoke, she half-turned, looking at me a bit askew. “What do you mean?”

“All over the world. No more zombies, no more ghouls, no more flesh eating. They’re all resting in peace.” A smile formed on my face. It seemed like a while since I had a reason to actually smile with mirth and joy, even if a huge tinge of sadness...screw it. The zombie apocalypse was over. I had earned the right to grin. “I did it,” I said, pride creeping into my voice. “I made them all lie down, and they won’t be getting back up.”

Before the blonde Avenger could respond, the communicator on her belt beeped. She looked down at it for a second, before suddenly snapping it off her waist and holding it tightly on one hand. “It’s from a SHIELD unit in Chicago,” she said out loud. “It says ‘the dead just laid down.’ And one from a unit in Honolulu. ‘Dead look dead for real.’” Her fingers tapped a few keys on the pad, her eyes staring intently at the screen. “And...SHIELD intra-web is reporting the same thing, all around the world. Havana...Istanbul...Moscow...” After a deep breath, she looked back up at me. The smile on Ms. Marvel’s face was warm and full of surprise. “You...you really did it, it looks like. You pulled it off...you pulled it off!”

I couldn’t help it. I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Told you I could crack that thing.”

“How? How the hell...how did you do it?”

“Ok...this is going to take a bit, so bear with me.” I laid it all out for her, trying to keep it simple. Not because I believe she was an idiot, but because I kept it simple myself, trying not to overcomplicate things as much as possible. “When the Darkhold let me control all those zombies, I realized three things. One, there wasn’t anything inside of them except that overwhelming hunger, but the Darkhold suppressed that hunger somehow while I was in charge. No feelings, no emotions, no thoughts. Every single ghoul was nothing more than a dead battery, no charge, no positive, no negative, and no polarity. Just a mass of famine and hunger, and without that hunger, they were literally nothing. Two, there wasn’t any...lag is the best word to describe it. If I thought it, if I told them to do it, it happened instantly. I was in a whole bunch of zombies at once, and if the Darkhold switched me from one to another, it happened instantly. It was then I realized...magic has no resistance.” I held up my hands, gesturing as I laid it out. “Anything that carries energy has some resistance to that energy. It’s why you can’t send extra electricity from New York City to a grid out in Chicago, because you’re going to lose some of that juice because of resistance in the power lines. Think of it like straining water through a towel. Some of that water’s going to end up in the towel, and it’s the same with electricity in a way. Some of it ends up in the power line. With me?”

She nodded, so I plowed on with the exposition. “Alright. Well, with whatever magic Dormammu and the Darkhold were using, there wasn’t any resistance. None. One zombie, two zombies, ten zombies, a thousand zombies...none a single magical watt of power was wasted. I could sense it. Any command I could give, every single zombie reacted at that EXACT moment to the fullest extent of their ability. Now...the third thing...this one’s a little weird, so bear with me and listen up. Every try to watch two TV’s at once? You can’t do it. In my old line of work, multiple security monitors were a blessing, because one rent-a-cop couldn’t keep an eye on every single one. When the Darkhold let me ride shotgun in a bunch of zombies at once, I didn’t feel like my attention was being split. It was like I was seeing everything at the exact same time, with no overlap or no overlay. There was only one way the Darkhold could pull off that trick. You see...you can’t really store electricity. It always has to be moving, which is why they call it a current, right?”

I was getting into it now. “Batteries are a special case, but for the most part, you have to use electricity the second you generate it. Just keep that in mind. When the Darkhold was showing me all those zombies at once, it wasn’t. It was just flipping through their brains really, really fast...like a computer monitor with a nearly infinite framerate. Whatever the Darkhold did to my brain, it let me see all these images of the world through the eyes of a whole bunch of zombies and did it by showing them to me so damn fast and doing something to let my mind pick up on each and every single image...”

Ms. Marvel snapped her fingers. “Wait. I think I got it. So the Darkhold was really showing you one image for a really short period of time, and when he moved to show you another image, it was like an electric current moving from one power pylon to another?”

“Bingo,” I said, nodding with approval. “All those minds were just one big closed power grid with absolutely no resistance, and absolutely no emotion that I could feel. Emotions would have definitely been too much for my brain to handle, but...in the end, I was looking at nothing more than two billion dead Christmas lights all strung together. And it all boiled down to one very simple rule of physics. Rule #1, Newton’s Law of Inertia. A body at rest must stay at rest. And that’s what dead bodies are supposed to be doing.”

I put new energy into the smile on my face. “So, I had access to a huge power grid, and every single thought I had would instantly reach every single zombie without any drop in power and without any strain on my brain. All I did was tell them to do what their bodies should have been doing in the first place. Rest.”

“And you thought all of that up...all that science...came up with a plan off the cuff using science to deal with a book of magic.”

“What can I say? I am an engineer first...theoretical sciences give me a Hadron.”

After a second, she shook her head. “Wow. You’ve been hanging around Spider-Man too long.”

“I just saved the world, Ms. Marvel. Sorry for the cockiness...but I think I’m entitled to one bad joke.”

Ah, what the hell. I’d probably never get this chance again. “And,” I said, putting my arms out, “I think I deserve a damn hug. I’ve gotten my ass kicked all week long, and I just put my brain and my sanity at risk to stop the living dead from walking the Earth. I’m cashing in my chips right now for one hug from a beautiful lady.” Cheesy as hell, but screw it. I’m throwing the “I’m the God damn Shocker” card.

She put her hands on her hips. “Seriously? You just saved the entire world and you’re using it to try to extort a hug from me?” Ms. Marvel sighed as she shook her head. “That feel you copped earlier wasn’t accidental either, was it?”

“No, no! That one was an accident, I promise. Look...yeah, I ain’t gonna lie, a hug from one of the hottest female superheroes on the planet...’nuff said. Plus, when we finally find Boomerang, it’ll make him as jealous as hell.” I still had my hands out, a hint of earnestness dropping into my voice. “Seriously, I had a rough week, I’m tired, I’m exhausted...and in all honesty, damn it, I need a hug right now.”

Her lips pursed as she mulled over what I said. I kept my arms extended, one eyebrow raised in the “eh? eh?” manner. Before anything could happen, though...

A yellow beam of light erupted into the sky from near the red portal. “Jesus,” I proclaimed as the sound of battle began from that direction. “What the hell’s going on now?”

From Ms. Marvel’s communicator, a metallic voice spoke. “Ms. Marvel, MACH-IV, Shocker, if any of you are out there...the zombies have all stopped moving, but the Grim Reaper...” A loud metallic shriek filled the air for a second, coming from the small device. “...still active and fighting us to a standstill. We need assistance, ASAP.”

“Iron Man, Ms. Marvel. I got the Shocker here. We’re on our way, ETA in under sixty seconds. Hang in there, Avenger.” She snapped her communicator shut as, in the sky above us, an orange glow suddenly flared up. “That’s probably MACH-IV,” Ms. Marvel replied as she approached me. One firm arm took me by the waist as the orange glow became a long streak of burning air racing towards the portal. “Guess you’re not done getting your ass kicked yet, Herman. Sounds like Eric Williams is making a last stand.”

“Lucky me,” I groused. “Well...let’s get this show on the road.”

“Herman...aren’t you forgetting something?” Ms. Marvel nodded to the ancient book of magic sitting nearby. “We can’t just leave that lying around.”

I sighed wearily. “Yeah...” No whispers in my head this time as I grabbed the book. It pulled on my arms, heavy and ponderous again, as I clutched it to my chest. “Just don’t drop me,” I told her as we became airborne, leaving the roof of Belvedere Castle behind.

“I won’t. Too bad, though.” She had a hint of a smirk as the two of us turned north towards the red portal. “I think I was probably about to give you a hug too.”

“What? Oh, motherfu...”

“Welcome to the party, pal.” That was the amplified metallic voice of Abner Jenkins, MACH-IV, who had just come into formation alongside of us as we flew through the air. The paint job on his silver-and-black suit was scratched all to hell, and a few jagged tears and punctures were visible all along its body.

“Glad we could make it,” I yelled as I waved to my friend. “Looks like the Vulture gave you the business.”

“God...that bastard sure could fly. Tough as hell to get a bead on, too. Toomes gave me a run for my money before he just dropped out of the sky and crashed into the Chess and Checkers House. Apparently, zombies all over the world just decided it was finally time to give up the ghost and the Vulture went right along with them.”

“If Toomes is down, that means the rest of the Reaper’s bunch should have kicked it as well, right?” Ms. Marvel looked over at me as she held me to her side. “That would make sense.”

“Has anything here made sense?” One of her strong arms held me close as I kept the Darkhold close to my body. It had almost fallen free a few times, probably trying to get loose and find a more willing sap than I had been. Between the book in my hands and the air compressor still hanging from my back, physical soreness was rapidly becoming a factor in my continued activity. “This all started with the Grim Reaper. I wouldn’t be shocked if he’s got a few more tricks up his sleeve.”

We passed over confused soldiers and refugees, skimming over them towards the red portal, the cold air whipping at my exposed face. The bodies of the dead were scattered about, a few who had somehow slipped behind the barricade, but none of them were up and walking around. That was good. Lights flashed and the sound of thunderous blows could easily be heard, but it was almost like any other superhuman rumble that took place in New York City on a daily basis.

“When we get there,” Ms. Marvel told us, “just beat the hell out of the Grim Reaper. Don’t give him a second if you can help it.”

“Roger,” MACH-IV said.

“And Herman, keep an eye on that book. If the Grim Reaper gets his hands on that book...who knows what he could do with it? Probably jumpstart the zombies all over again or something.”

“Hell, why don’t you just...” After a second, I realized the answer to the question I had been asking. “Because if you leave me somewhere alone and unguarded, someone might try to steal the Darkhold.”

“Bingo. Plus, with that portal open, we might need magic to close it. Or seal it. Or something. Right now, Herman, you’re pretty much the Sorcerer Supreme,” Ms. Marvel said with all seriousness, not even the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Wait, what,” MACH-IV asked. “Magic book? Sorcerer Supreme? What the hell’s going on, Herman?”

“Tell you later, Abner,” I said as we dropped into the combat zone. “And man, you ain’t gonna believe this...”

To one side, nearest the portal, the Grim Reaper and Wonder Man were slugging it out, and I mean they were tearing into each other. I’m talking Ali/Frazier, Tito/Couture, the Thing/Ironclad. The ground around them was torn apart, Wonder Man’s suit was ripped in several places, and Reaper’s armor sported numerous cracks and dents. Scattered around the area were the dead bodies of the Reaper’s crew of mystics. I recognized Chondu first. His eyes were no longer the color of blood. The lady in the bronze stripper armor, Nekra, stared with white, unseeing eyes at the sky above her. And the others, who’s names I couldn’t remember. They were unmoving, dead as doornails, as Wonder Man and the Grim Reaper fought each other among the field of corpses. “Come on,” MACH-IV said, banking to his left. “Let’s give Wonder Man a...”

A bolt of lightning slammed into MACH-IV. The yellow energy rolled over his power armor, crackling into the ripped gashes. Abner immediately went limp, and gravity did the rest. He plowed into the ground, ripping a gash in the manicured lawn. Dirt piled in front of him as he dug a furrow into the grass. Electricity still crackled over him as he came to a stop, his body motionless.

“ABNER!” Ms. Marvel immediately set us down, my arms still clutching the Darkhold to my chest. “Where the heck did that lightning come from?”

“Well, well, well,” a buzzing voice responded. “Look who’s willingly shown up for their own funeral.

We both turned in the direction of that voice. This time, it was Ms. Marvel who summed up our situation in two perfect words as she saw the devastation laid out in front of us. “Oh, crap.”

Nick Fury the closest to us, unconscious, one hand still clutching at a burn wound smoldering on his shoulder. At his feet, the body of Thor, the God of Thunder, was motionless. Mjlonir lay on the ground, inches from his outstretched hand as if he had passed out trying to reach for the legendary weapon. To one side, Iron Man was lying on the ground, electricity pouring over his gold-and-red suit. In the grip of the speaker, the body of Captain America twitched, held off the ground by a hand wrapped around his neck. Three Avengers. The head of SHIELD. All laid out and helpless at the feet of a man who, based on the empirical evidence of the past few minutes, should have been laid out like the rest of the Grim Reaper’s crew.

“Hey, Herman,” Electro called out to me. “Nice job on destroying all the zombies! I got a reward for you...catch!” His arm reared back, and with a grunt, he hurled Captain America towards me like a Spartan throwing a javelin.

I did what anyone else would have done, and that was dive the hell out of the way. Luckily, Ms. Marvel was there to catch him, one arm reaching out and plucking the hero out of mid-air. “Are you ok?” she asked as she set Captain America back his feet, supporting him as he leaned on her frame.

“I’m fine,” he gasped. His Kevlar uniform was scorched in several places, and I’d bet the burn marks on his uniform’s neck would match up with Electro’s grip. “You guys did it? You’re the ones who put the zombies down?”

“Yeah, but I’ll explain that later.” I pointed towards Electro, instead. “You should be dead, Dillon. You should be dead like everyone else.”

He barked out a harsh, crackling laugh. “Yeah, that’s the second time tonight you said that to me. Get some new material Herman.”

It was Electro. Anyone who had crossed paths or dealt with Maxwell Dillon would have recognized the voice. But, aside from the whole “throwing lightning” thing, that’s where the similarities ended. What stood in front of us wasn’t a man in a green-and-yellow uniform with small snaps of energy rolling over his body. No, what Electro looked like now was a lightning bolt given human form. His face, his arms, his chest, his legs, each part of his body was a storm of electricity. No green to be seen anywhere, but plenty of yellow bolts. His hair was jagged cornrows, and instead of the red orbs where his eyes should have been were tiny slits that gave off the impression of sockets, along with facsimiles of his nose and mouth, all formed out of the yellow lightning that boiled over him.

“Check it out, Herman! Everyone else is dead...but I ain’t!” His hand thrust forward, and a bolt of lightning shot towards Ms. Marvel, who barely pulled Captain America out of the way as she turned to the side to avoid the blast. “All those suckers dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, but who’s still standing? I AM!”

“Not for long.” I threw my hand out, firing off a level eight at him. A few days ago, throwing a level four blast would have something to write home about, some kind of dire situation. Now, I was doing it as an opening strike, casually aiming a concrete-cracking burst of air in Electro’s direction.

“Oh no you don’t!” His hand whipped to the side, and my attack dissipated half-way to him, the blue particles fading away in mid-air. “You got damn lucky the first time we fought, Herman. The second time, you had Thor to cover your ass. This time, there isn’t anyone who can help you!”

The first bolt was a weak one, Electro sacrificing power for speed. It came at me so fast, I couldn’t dodge out of the way. It caught me in the face, locking my body with convulsions. I shook in place, my muscles frozen, as a snarling Electro wound up his second blast, this one a lot more powerful. Both hands shot towards me, a jagged bolt of lightning streaking through the air, its tines aimed right at my heart...

The red-and-white shield intercepted the attack. It whipped in front of me, absorbing the energy of Electro’s attack and saving me from being flash-fried. “You’re wrong about that, Electro,” the voice of Captain America spoke as the shield turned on its axis and curved behind me, turning in mid-air like a boomerang. “The Shocker’s got the Avengers looking out for him.”

“Hah,” Electro boasted as Captain America grabbed his returning shield. “Ain’t this just delicious? You’re an honorary Avenger now, Herman. Come on, give me a battle cry. What is it? ‘Avengers assemble?’ Oh, wait, you can’t, because there AREN’T any more Avengers!” He motioned around him. “Thor’s unconscious, Iron Man’s on lock down, and hell, I even have Nick Fury out for the count. Reaper’s got Wonder Man under control. All that’s left is this World War Two fossil, and a dumb, big-boobed blonde bitch.”

“Smile when you say that, Dillon.” Ms. Marvel cracked her knuckles together, a dark look on her face. “Better men than you have called me that and lived to regret it.”

“Then come over here and take your best shot, blondie.” Electro reached out, his pointer finger a small jagged bolt, and tapped his chin, the current of electricity flowing between them. “I’m immortal now, and I can take anything you think you can dish out.”

“Immortal NOW? You were immortal before, Max,” I pointed out. My hands were at my sides, thumbs on the triggers just in case. Maybe I could get a shot off if he got distracted. “You bragged about it back in the church.”

“Oh, that? That wasn’t immortality. I was a package of walking meat, Herman, with bullet holes in my chest. Yeah, I had forever in front of me, but I owed that to the Grim Reaper. Now, though...” He held up his lightning hands, arcing bolts between them as he spoke. “...this is all me. Being dead removed any limits on my storage capacity, Herman. I’m not a walking battery anymore. I burned it all away, all the flesh, bone, the sinew. I’m all lightning now. Pure electricity. It’s like Frankenstein’s monster...forget magic, baby. Lighting, THAT’S the true source of life and death. And I can just keep making more of it. So...yeah. Max Dillon’s dead, Herman. There’s nothing left of him. Only Electro.”

“He’s incredibly powerful now,” Captain America responded. “Dillon is right. There’s nothing left of him but the lightning, and he knows how to use it for proper effect. He overloaded Iron Man’s and punched out Thor.”

“Wait...he punched out Thor,” I asked. “No way!”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that. I still got that magical tingle from holding his hammer earlier...” A smile stretched across his buzzing face. “Shoving me in the water didn’t do anything but cause a whole bunch of sparks and steam, Herman. When I crawled back on the shore, I went right back to slugging it out with Thor...and like Cap said, I knocked him the hell out. Let’s face it. You guys are outclassed against me.”

“Cap,” I said in a quiet voice, “tell me you have a plan.”

“Herman, do you think you could help Iron Man get his armor...” That was all I heard Captain America say to me before a bolt of lightning slammed into my chest. I flew backwards like I had been hit with a sledgehammer, slamming in the ground. My heart raced as the power cut across my nerves, sending mix signals and causing my muscles to convulse. The Darkhold bounced to one side, landing in a patch of grass, well out of my reach.

“Herman Schultz is mine,” I heard a voice growl. “His actions brought me to this stage, but I owe him for the beatings and embarrassments he’s handed me.” Electro put his hand out towards Ms. Marvel and Captain America. “You two first. Come on.”

I tried to sit up, but my body refused to work with me. The electricity lingered, keeping my muscles locked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two Avengers rush forward, Captain America leading with his shield, wincing under his half-mask, while Ms. Marvel’s fists were outstretched. She reached him first, but Electro snapped out of the way, leaving a trail of sparks in his wake. Ms. Marvel stopped as well, spinning in mid-air and going for a quick roundhouse. As she did so, Captain America swung his shield at Electro. Done right, the poor sap’s skull would have been crushed between a rock and a hard place. Instead, one moment he was there, and the next, Electro was two steps to his left. It sounded like hell’s bells going off as her fist impacted into Cap’s shield. The vibrations rippled through the air, a deep gonging sound that echoed across the lawn.

“Too slow,” Electro hissed as he clapped a hand down on the shoulders of Captain America and Ms. Marvel. Both of them instantly went ramrod straight as voltage poured through their bodies. Groaning, I tried to get back to my feet, to push myself up, but my arms gave out from under me, and I fell right back down. The being of pure electricity that was now Electro flooded their bodies with current, the electricity arcing over Captain America’s shield and causing Ms. Marvel’s blonde hair to float.

I was barely able to get back to my knees by the time Electro let them go. Both Avengers dropped to ground. Ms. Marvel was on her back, gasping for air, while Captain America, flat on his stomach, groaned, his fingers clutching at the ground. “It’s funny,” Electro buzzed at he passed their fallen bodies. “A few days ago, I would have crapped my pants at the very thought of taking on the damn Avengers. Now, I’m going down in history as the guy who killed them. Huh. THIS is what self-confidence feels like.”

He grabbed me, digging two fingers under my chin. I fought for breath as he lifted me up, my skin twitching where his lightning fingers touched me. “Herman, Herman, Herman,” Electro said, holding me up so my face was even with where his would have been if he still had one. “Tell me this ain’t cosmic comedy. You’re the last hero standing, and I’m going to off you for being a goody two-shoes.”

One arm tried to raise up, only to be swatted down, the parrying blow feeling like someone held a large 9-volt up to my forearm. “The compressor’s a nice trick. It’s probably how you managed to take out Baron Mordo and the Rhino. So how did it feel, Herman, killing your best friend?”

“Beating the hell out of you,” I said between clenched teeth, “is going to make me feel a lot better.”

His laugh sounded like a transformer overloading. “Where the hell did this defiance come from? The old Shocker would have headed for the damn hills by now! Look at you know. Teaming with the Avengers, using a magic book, an air compressor on your back...a week ago, no one on the damn planet could have called any of this. You, a Boy Scout, and me, on the cusp of godhood.”

“Really? Take a look around, Electro,” I managed to choke out. “You may have beaten the Avengers, but SHIELD’s out there somewhere. And you know what else,” I added, “Norman Osborn’s got himself a super team. Venom, Bullseye, Moonstone...freakin’ Ares too. Oh...and every zombie on this planet is back where they’re supposed to be. Dead. This is nothing more than a last stand, Electro. You ain’t gonna pull this one off...”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe go screw yourself. In any case, I’m done talking to you. You got me killed. I still ain’t forgiven you for that.” His hand gripped my neck with a firm hold, and I could feel the electricity beginning to run through me. The other arm pulled back over his shoulder, an electric hand clenching a fistful of lightning. “Say good night, Herman...”
“Leave him be.”

That voice boomed from behind Electro. In most cases, you think I’d be overjoyed to hear someone tell Electro to refrain from popping my head off my shoulders. This time though, I wasn’t too enthralled. All the voice I heard meant was the worst was coming around the bend, a freight train heading my way.

“What? Damn it, man, you let him live earlier and looked what happened!”

“I said, leave...him...be, Dillon. I am still your master, no matter what form you currently hold on this plane of existence.”

Electro’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered his fist. The current running through me remained, but at a much lower level, paralyzing me as opposed to frying my nerves. “Alright. But you’re going to regret letting this guy live. More lives than the Black Cat.”

“Not quite.” It was the figure of Death that walked towards us, backlit by the red portal, a cape torn and ripped all along its edges, a body thrown over its shoulder, and a wicked scythe where one hand should have been. With restrained glee on his face, the Grim Reaper dumped the unconscious body of Wonder Man alongside that of Ms. Marvel. The red-eyed Avenger’s body was bruised, covered in a multitude of scrapes and slashes. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his shoulder shuddering with each breath his lungs took. Reaper wasn’t look too much like a spring chicken either. His armor was beat up, scuffed and torn apart. Half his face was covered with a bruise already a deep shade of purple. But he was the last man standing, not his brother, and that was the most important thing. “Herman Schultz is just a man, nothing more. But he’s a man who’s been at the center of some extraordinary events,” the Reaper intoned as he came towards Electro and I. “All the strings of fate, for one brief moment in the history of time, are crossing over the existence of this two-bit safecracker. Do you know what that means, Dillon? It means Herman here has one last role to play.”

“Yeah, and it should be that of a corpse,” Electro said with snark oozing out of every word. “Come on, Reaper, just kill him right now. You’ve seen the movies, you know what happens when you let the hero live!”

“Your problem, Dillon, was that you always thought too small.” Reaper stopped a few feet away from me. He studied me from the depths of his mask, his eyes sunken in his face. “Isn’t this just something? A two-bit villain who couldn’t get the time of day from Spider-Man, a thug who couldn’t get a full grasp on his power, and me. We’re the last ones standing. The fate of the world is in our hands. And it looks like you’re outnumbered, Herman,” he said with a dark chuckle.

“I kind of like my odds...the way I see it, it’s one-on-one,” I managed to say with a smirk. “Me vs. a half-wit and a half-wit.”

The scythe whipped up. The very tip of it hung centimeters from my nose, a drop of Wonder Man’s blood glistening on the end. “Yes, Herman. Please taunt the necromancer who raised up the living dead, beat the Avengers, and is now about to bring a god into this world. For someone so clever, you really are quite stupid.”

“I’m not so dumb not to notice, Eric, that the living dead aren’t quite so living anymore. Oh,” I added, “almost forgot, all those refugees you were going to turn the zombies loose on to power your boss’ return to the world are still breathing, and under SHIELD’s guns. And I don’t think Electro here can generate the type of juice you need.”

“True...but you don’t think there wasn’t a backup plan or any sort? Contingencies weren’t planned for, or hiccups weren’t taken into consideration? Please, Herman. You don’t just start a zombie uprising one night because you were BORED.” He turned away, motioning towards the portal with his scythe. “Everything that could be planned for was planned. In a world of superheroes and demigods, Herman, you have to make sure it’s all accounted for. You don’t think for a second I didn’t have a plan to defeat the Avengers? To deal with SHIELD? Look around you, Herman!” He swung his scythe wide to encompass the fallen bodies all around us. “Earth’s mightiest heroes prostrate at my feet. Heroes are so damn predictable, always falling within certain parameters. Patterns, known courses of action...all planned over weeks and weeks. Hell, even Norman Osborn was accounted for! You don’t think I didn’t know he’d be out there, somewhere, waiting for the perfect time to swoop in for maximum media exposure? Or that, somehow, someone would reverse the zombie plague and deprive me of the needed life energy to bring Dormammu to this plane? I...knew...it...ALL!”

Pause.

“Except for you, Herman.” He half-turned, glancing back over his shoulder at me as he spoke. “You were never accounted for. You were never taken into consideration. I don’t think you even crossed my mind when I was assembling my group of minions and pawns. And yet, here you are. The last one standing. I...I just cannot wrap my mind around it.”

“Don’t try,” Electro hissed. “Just KILL him!”

“No. No, Dillon...”

“Listen to your boss, Max,” I suggested.

“You see, Dillon...I don’t know the role Herman has yet to play. He’s played two very large ones already. Inspiring humanity and wresting control of the Darkhold away from Baron Mordo. Purely stunning, and something VERY unexpected from you. At the very least, he’s earned the right to see the ending played out.”

He turned back towards the portal. “I may not have been able to sacrifice human beings, but the death energy given off by two billion dead zombies at their moment of de-animation is a worthy substitute. You see, Herman? By ending the zombie apocalypse, you still doomed mankind. Hold him, Dillon. Make sure he doesn’t interfere.”

A firm hand fell on my shoulder. “You managed to blunder your way into seeing the end of the future, Herman. If I was in charge, you’d be frying from the inside out right now.”

“DORMAMMU!” Louder than one would have thought, the voice of Eric Williams, the Grim Reaper, echoed across the Great Lawn of Central Park. “THE SACRIFICE HAS BEEN MADE! THE CONDITIONS HAVE BEEN MET! THE STARS ARE RIGHT!” He raised his arms before the portal, the scythe a long shadow of black against the bright red. “I, YOUR HAND PICKED SERVANT, CALL YOU TO THIS PLANE! COME FORTH, MY LORD! COME FORTH AND CLAIM ALL THAT IS YOURS, NOW AND FOREVER!”

I would have been happy, at this point, to see Norman Osborn and his Thunderbolts flying to the rescue. But instead, the portal suddenly flared a dark, blood red. The tendrils that had swirled around the edges flared outward, a strong wind gusting from inside the magic opening. The sound of wind tore at me, a dagger twisting into my eardrums. Beyond it, behind the rushing air, I heard it. A deep rumble, low in volume, but quickly growing louder. It boomed towards the portal from inside as the Reaper called it onward.

“THE TIME IS NOW! THIS EXISTANCE IS YOURS! COME ON, DREAD LORD! I BEG YOU!”

The booming sounds became a distinct beat, a rapid tempo approaching. I turned my eyes away, the sound squeezing my head, but a firm hand turned me back.

“Hey, this is what you wanted, Herman. Here’s the big bad himself, the end of days, the destruction of this world.” A buzzing chuckle came from the Villain of Voltage. “This is going to be too cool.”

“How can you want this? How can you sit here while the Grim Reaper ends the world, Max!”

“What’s the world ever done for me, Herman? This one dies. I go on at Dormammu’s side to another one. And another. And another. All the while knowing everyone on this little ball of mud’s kicked the bucket. You can’t buy that feeling, Herman. You have to earn it.”

I found my voice, the words that would probably get me killed. “You are a sad, bitter man, Max.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I ain’t the one staring at my impending doom, am I?”

“COME FORTH, DORMAMMU...COME FORTH!”

A hand burst from the portal, magical energy splashing like bloody water. The hand glistened with blackness, drops of red running down the dark leather. It sounded like a hole was being ripped in reality, a tear of screaming and agony as the hand, about the size of the Rhino, slammed down on the grass. The portal’s edges bulged as a forearm squeezed its way out, fingers clawing at the ground for purchase.

“YES,” the Reaper exclaimed as a second hand shot out, stretching the portal to unimaginable dimensions as the cries of the damn echoed across the park. “COME FORTH, MY LORD! COME FORTH!”

A million people experiencing the worst torture imaginable, and only the strong grip of Electro kept me from falling to my knees as my legs threatened to give out at the sound. From the edges of the portal, a ribbon of red ripped across the air, energy lashing out onto the ground. From the portal itself, an orange glow announced his presence. My eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t want to see it. A glimpse of him, back in the church, had almost driven me mad. The sound of creation bleeding ripped at my spine, ice cold shivers worse than any jolt Electro could have given me. It built and built and built, a rising crescendo of suffering. Heat blazed across my face, the flames dancing on my eyes even with them squeezed shut.

“Make it stop,” I heard myself saying over and over again as the god came into being. “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop...”

With a loud snap, the screaming suddenly stopped. One moment, the damned wailed, and the next, only the sounds of an empty city.

“Open your eyes, Herman,” Electro said. “You want to see this...how often do you get to see a demigod in the damn flesh?”

“I don’t want to,” I murmured like a scared child. But I did. Electro was right. This was a being more powerful than anything else I had ever encountered, one that strode over worlds and ended dimensions. He was a magical atom bomb...I had to look. I had to see.

He towered in front of the now-normal-sized portal, six stories tall, easily. His arms and legs were covered with segmented black leather armor, and a streak of bright crimson ran up the front. His head was a roiling mass of fire with facial features, no eyes in his sockets, but eternity in his stare. This was him, in the proverbial flesh. Dormammu. The Dread Lord. Here on Earth.

And never in my entire life had I felt so incredibly, incredibly small.

“Master!” Reaper’s voice held elation and joy as he took a stepped towards him. “You’ve arrived! Now we can...”

“WILLIAMS! YOU IDIOT!”

His voice was thunder, booming across the park. Instantly, Reaper’s arms fell, his shoulders slumping, as in his first actions upon this planet, his master berated him.

“WHERE ARE MY SACRIFICES? WHERE IS THE PRECIOUS LIFE ENERGY? WHY HAVE YOU CALLED ME HERE NOW? IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE A BLATHERING FOOL!”

“But...but...” The confidence has instantly left him, and the Grim Reaper went from striding conqueror to scolded child in seconds. “...it worked! You’re here now, striding this planet like the king you are! The energies were enough to call you forth!”

“THE ENERGIES? YOU SUMMONED ME USING DEATH ENERGY! THE ENERGY FROM TWO BILLION DEAD ZOMBIES DOES NOT COMPARE TO THE LIFE ENERGY OF FIVE THOUSAND LIVING SOULS! I REQUIRED THE SACRIFICES OF THE LIVING TO REACH MY FULL POWER!” The god sighed, disappointed etched on the flames of his skull. “NOW, BECAUSE OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE, INSTEAD OF ENJOYING THE DELIGHTS THIS PLANET HAS TO OFFER, I WILL HAVE TO PERFORM THE SACRIFICES MYSELF! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TIME THAT WILL TAKE! A SIMPLE TASK I PUT BEFORE YOU, AND YOU FAILED MISERABLY!”

I would have enjoyed watching the Grim Reaper getting schooled if I wasn’t quaking in fear. The anger of Dormammu was directed at Eric Williams and him alone, and the body language of the necromancer told the entire story. “No,” he squeaked, his confidence completely shot, “it wasn’t my fault! It was...”

“I WILL BROOK NO EXCUSES! IT WAS YOUR FAULT, AND YOURS ALONE! YOU HAD THE DARKHOLD! YOU HAD MY APPRENTICE BARON MORDO! YOU HAD THE POWERS I BESTOWED UPON YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN AT THE VANGUARD OF THE WAVE OF ZOMBIES, OVERRUNNING SHIELD’S ATTEMPTS TO HOLD BACK THE TIDE OF DEATH! INSTEAD, YOU SNUCK IN THE BACK DOOR LIKE A COWARD AND THREW YOURSELF AT YOUR BROTHER! WITHOUT YOU AT THE FOREFRONT, THESE HAIRLESS APES THREW BACK WHAT WAS TO BE THE KEY TO MY TRIUMPH!”

The black hand reached out slowly, pointing at the now cowering Grim Reaper. “YOUR PETTY VENDETTA AGAINST YOUR BROTHER HAS COST ME THE ULTIMATE VICTORY, ERIC WILLIAMS! YOU HAVE FAILED IN YOUR TRUE TASK!”

“But...”

“YOU ARE NO LONGER OF USE TO ME. BEGONE.”

And he walked forward, passing past the Grim Reaper in one stride. The being that had brought the living dead back to life was now begging for attention from a wayward father. “Master...” I could hear the Grim Reaper cry out behind him. “It wasn’t my fault! IT WASN’T MY FAULT! IT WAS SCHULTZ’S! IT WAS ALL HIS!”

The large black boot came to a rest in front of me. I averted my eyes, looking down at the ground. Even then, I felt his gaze on my neck, the heat from his stare like a third-degree sunburn.

“HERMAN SCHULTZ. GAZE UPON ME.”

When a god tells you to do something, you find yourself doing it, no matter how badly you don't want to. Slowly, I panned my vision up. He towered over me, a giant who would squash me with a flick of his finger. Now, instead of his former lackey Eric Williams, I was taking the full effect of his state, his fiery gaze locked onto me.

“YOU. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO TOOK MY KINGDOM AWAY. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO TOPPLED AN EMPIRE OF THE DEAD. YOU KILLED MY APPRENTICE. HERMAN SCHULTZ... AND YET, WHO ARE YOU?”

He leaned over, giving me a full view of his face hanging in the air like an orange moon. “YOU NEVER EXISTED TO ME. YOU NEVER CROSSED MY PATH. AND YET, HERE AND NOW, FATE’S MADE YOU ITS CHAMPION. YOU HAVE STOOD IN MY WAY, UNKOWINGLY, TIME AND TIME AGAIN. RARELY HAVE I SEEN FATE INTERTWINE AND WEAVE A WICKED WEB ALL OVER ONE PERSON TO STAND AGAINST ME.” After a second, Dormammu straightened back up. “AND THOSE SHE HAS CHOSEN, ALL HAVE DIED AT MY HAND. YOU WILL TOO, FOR OBSTRUCTING MY PATH. UNTIL SUCH A TIME, HERMAN SCHULTZ, I GIVE YOU LEAVE TO MULL OVER THE LAST FEW HOURS OF YOUR PITIFUL EXISTANCE.” He motioned with a hand, dismissing me. “BEGONE.”

Relief filled me even with the impending threat the statement beheld. My eyes were still locked on his gaze as a voice screamed behind us. “What?!? No! It’s his fault!” The Grim Reaper flew towards me, sprinting across the grass. “Everything was his doing! Everything! Punish him,” he pleaded his former master. “PUNISH HIM!”

“HERMAN SCHULTZ IS AN INSIGNIFICANT INSECT WHO HAS ACCOMPLISHED GREAT THINGS. YOU, ERIC WILLIAMS, WERE A GREAT INSECT WHO ACCOMPLISHED NOTHING OF SIGNIFICANCE. HERMAN SCHULTZ DEFEATED THE INCREDIBLE HULK. YOU, WITH ASSISTANCE, BARELY DEFEATED YOUR BROTHER. YOU ARE NOT ONE TO MAKE SUCH CALLS.”

“Him? HIM! FINE!” Williams raised his scythe. Crimson energy began to glow at the tip. “Then I will punish himself myself! Herm...”

The level six blast ripped across his body, shredding his cloak and slamming him backwards. Reaper crashed into the ground, screaming loudly. The arm holding his scythe was underneath him at an angle, and just above his elbow, a sharp bubble jabbed out, just keeping under the skin.

“Seriously, you should listen to the Dread Lord,” I somehow managed to quip. “Pick your battles with a little more care, Eric.”

Dormammu ignored the yelling Reaper and myself, walking past us. Where he was going, I had no idea, but you don’t ask a guy...thing...god like him what his plans are...

“Hey, Dormammu!”

...unless you’re very brave or very, very dumb.

The god stopped. He lifted his head, turning slightly to the side. “MAXWELL DILLON. YOU DEEM TO SPEAK TO ME?”

“Yeah, I deem.” Electro had moved away from me, getting closer (closer?!?) to Dormammu. “Hey, a chance like this only comes along once in a while, and I might as well take it,” the living bolt of lightning said. His voice held the confidence that the Grim Reaper's had lacked, talking to Dormammu like they were two thugs passing time on a street corner. “Look, the Grim Reaper screwed up, and you kicked him to the curb. And Herman here offed Baron Mordo and the rest of your crew. It looks to me like you’re all out of minions...”

“I DON’T NEED MINIONS. I AM THE DREAD LORD.”

“...I know, I know.” Electro’s voice buzzed, but it never wavered or dipped while he stood there talking to a god. He was ignoring me now, his focus entirely on Dormammu. “But you don’t mind having them, do you? A guy to boss around, a guy to give orders to, and a guy who gets stuff done. You need a second in command...a Darth Vader type. And I’m your man.”

“Max! What the hell...”

“Shut up, Herman,” he said, raising a threatening hand towards me. “You took my bread and butter away. I’m working out a new deal.”

“SO YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO SAVE YOUR OWN SKIN?”

“If you screwed this up for me,” Electro muttered before responding to Dormammu. “Yeah, maybe I am. This whole week’s been about one thing. Me on the winning side. And I never screwed up. I did exactly what I was told, and the whole time, I kept telling Eric here to quit screwing around. I may not be a spell slinger like Mordo was, but I’m loyal, I follow orders...hell, I got shot by the Punisher...and while I don’t know anything about magic, I know this. There’s nothing more primal than lightning...except maybe fire.”

“THERE’S MORE.” Now Dormammu turned. His full gaze was on Electro, staring down at the dynamo...and the bastard never flinched. “WHAT DO YOU REALLY WANT, MAXWELL DILLON? WHAT DO YOU GET OUT OF THE DEAL?”

“I hate this world,” was Electro’s reply. “I hate everything about it. I hate how it treated me. I hate how I was supposed to treat it. It never did a damn thing for me. I want to watch it burn. I want to watch it bleed. I want to watch it...die.”

“HMMM...VERY WELL. PERFORM ONE TASK FOR ME, AND I WILL BRING YOU INTO MY FLOCK AS MY NEW APPRENTICE.”

“Just like that, huh? Alright, you ain’t a guy to dick around.” Electro flared brightly, the aura around him flashing with white light. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“KILL ERIC WILLIAMS.”

“...oh, hell, is that all?” Electro spun around without hesitation.

The Grim Reaper was still on the ground, holding his broken arm, when he heard Dormammu’s command. His eyes got wide as Electro pointed both hands at him. “No! Don’t do this, I can...”

Twin currents of lightning shot from Electro’s palms. They snaked through the open holes in the Grim Reaper’s armor, and his body suddenly began to convulse, shaking and twitching on the ground. He flopped like a fish, his screams a constant stutter as voltage poured through his entire body. Electro’s “face” never flinched, and the current never let up as he obeyed Dormammu’s command.

My mind was in shock as the Villain of Voltage as he electrocuted his former boss. My body, however, was moving. The focus of Dormammu didn't seem to be on me, and Electro was too busy frying the Grim Reaper, pumping him full of so much voltage he couldn't even fight back. After maybe a minute, Electro cut off the power supply. Smoke rose from the charred, steaming armor of the Grim Reaper, and the sweet smell of roast pork filled the air. “He ain’t gonna get up and look for a snack, is he,” Electro asked as the remains of Eric William popped and cracked inside his metal shell.

“NO. THE ZOMBIE PLAGUE HAS PASSED FROM THIS EARTH. BUT ONLY TEMPORARILY. TOGETHER, YOU AND I WILL BRING IT BACK, AND WE WILL FINISH THE APOCALYPSE THAT WAS STARTED.” Dormammu stretched out his hand, hovering over the awaiting Electro. “ACCEPT MY GIFTS, MAXWELL DILLON, AND LET US END THIS MISERABLE PLANET!”

Ribbons of red energy fell from Dormammu’s outstretched hand, weaving in mid-air like snakes as they slithered down towards Electro. The living dynamo tilted his head back, arms outstretched, as the ribbons reached him. “Now we’re talking,” Electro proclaimed as they wrapped around him, slowly constricting his electric form. Wherever they touched, the bright white light fell away, darkening as Electro slowly disappeared from view, the ribbons soon covering the entirety of his body.

“MAXWELL DILLON,” Dormammu proclaimed, “SHED WHATEVER WAS LEFT OF YOUR OLD LIFE, AND RISE NOW AS MY APPRENTICE!”

As I ducked behind Electro, searching in the tall grass, the red ribbons snapped upwards like bungee cords, pulling back into his hands. What they left behind was a figure of the deepest red, bloody lightning and drops of black ichor racing around its form. It lifted its hands towards its face, staring at the bolts of electricity that arced back and forth between its outstretched palms. “I...” a gruff voice. “...feel...this...this is power!” Red lightning shot into the sky as Electro raised his hands, earth to sky splitting in an instance with a crack of thunder. “It's like I have a nuclear reactor inside of me!”

“THIS IS BUT A SMALL TASTE OF THE POWER I CAN GIVE YOU, MAXWELL DILLON.”

“No...I said it earlier, boss, and I'll say it again. Maxwell Dillon's shuffled off this mortal coil. Only Electro's left.”

“VERY WELL. CLAIM YOUR MANTLE, ELECTRO. AS YOUR FIRST TASK, I COMMAND YOU TO RECOVER THE DARKHOLD. WITH THAT TOME IN MY PHYSICAL POSSESSION, RAISING THE DEAD WILL BE A SIMPLE MATTER.”

“Got it,” Electro replied, turning in place as he tried to get his bearings. “Now, when I shot Herman, he was standing...”

“...right here.”

It was a level ten that cracked the air between me and Electro. The energy rushed around him, the air exploding and red bolts shooting in every direction. He staggered, just a bit, like being smacked with a stiff wind. As the attack faded away, he turned around slowly. A fist, shaking with pure power, was raised in the air. “Herman.”

“Max.” I clutched the Darkhold in one arm. The other arm aimed a vibro-smasher at Electro. My feet were planted to absorb as much as recoil as I could. “I know what you're going to say, Max. I'm a fool for even trying to put up a fight. I should just hand the book over. And if I do, you'll kill me quick. Hell, you might even make me an offer to come work for you.”

“And your response will be 'screw you.' We know each other too well, Herman. It's too bad in a way. I could see you as my long-term nemesis if you actually survived this night.” Electro took a step forward. “But you can't outrun me. You can't fight me. You can't even hold a candle to me. I don't even need to suck the juice from your little work-up you got on your back because it's nothing compared to what I got. So, I'm just gonna kill you for that book, Herman.”

_I don't suppose you got a spell in there to help me out,_ I asked the Darkhold...and only got silence in return. No surprise there.

“You made your call, Max, when you stabbed humanity in the back. But if you think you're getting this book without a fight, you're mistaken.”

“And if you think you can put up a fight, you're mistaken.”

“I beat you once,” I replied. “And I can beat you again.”

“Why, Herman? Seriously, before I fry you like a fillet of fish, I have to know...look at me.” He stretched his arms out, electricity dancing along his limbs like a Jacob's Ladder. “I'm a being of pure magical electricity. I just took on the mantle of a demigod. I killed the Grim Reaper. I beat the hell out of the Avengers. The first time we tussled, you barely pulled it out. What in the world makes you think you have a snowball’s chance in hell of standing up to me this time?”

“Simple,” I said, rolling my shoulders and adjusting my aim. “Someone's got to. If no one else is going to, it might as well be me.”

“And you really believe this, Herman.”

“I lasted this long with the world crumbling around me. I bet I can squeeze out a few more minutes.” And I believed it. No insight, no second-guessing, no bemoaning my fate. I had made it this far. Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. Tonight?

I had been both.

Electro's laugh didn't faze me in the least. “How incredible. I guess the zombie apocalypse has made you dumber.” His hand blazed with red energy, the color of sky at morning. “I've wasted enough time not killing you.” With a small cry, his hand pushed forward. I stood my ground as the lightning flew towards me...

...and at the last moment, turned ninety degrees to the right, avoiding me entirely.

“And I guess,” I said, a smirk on my face as Electro's features took on a shocked, no pun intended, look, “that the zombie apocalypse taught you to always check your six. Guess who just got their second wind?”

The red lightning vanished into the stone hammer wielded by the God of Thunder. “You. You don't hurt another soul,” Thor's cold voice said through clenched teeth. He stood, bruises all over his arms, cuts on his face, staring at the form of Electro with determination on his face. “No more death. No more pain. No more.”

“YOU! THE SON OF ODIN! ELECTRO, TAKE CARE OF HIM!”

Electro's hands slammed together, a thunderclap splitting the air as bolts of lightning exploded towards Thor. The Avenger gripped Mjolnir in both hands, holding it out in front of him, his lips pressed tightly together. The front tine of the bolt of lightning slammed into the hammer's edge, forcing Thor back a step. His teeth gritted together as he pushed the hammer forward, into the current being generated by Electro. “I said no more!”

Electro's arms pushed out, the lightning snapping and whipping like a fishing line being entangled by a great white shark. “And I said, die! Die!”

Thor gritted his teeth, the air around him crackling with naked energy as Electro poured it on. “You fail to hear me, Electro. I am the God of Thunder, and I said...NO...MORE!”

“You are in no position to stop me, Avenger,” Electro responded. “I have you pinned in place!”

In response, Thor took a step forward. He pushed the lightning back, shortening the streams of power coming from Electro like he was pushing his way through a wall of water. “You deem yourself worthy of the mantle of a God of Lightning? Your power stems from a false being!” I watched in awe as Thor forced his way towards Electro, Mjolnir in the lead.

“No. Damn it! How are you doing this,” Electro screamed as Thor strode towards him with determination. “I beat you! I beat you!”

“We are the Avengers, Dillon,” Thor replied. With a roar of defiance, Thor left his feet, Mjolnir propelling him through the air. “We know not the meaning of the word 'defeated!'” Electro barely had time to lower his hands and brace himself before the magical hammer slammed into his electrical form. A bright, white-and-red light flashed over the area at the moment of impact. I raised my arm, shielding my eyes before the scene could permanently scar my retinas, just as the sonic boom washed over me. The hair on my head blew backwards, and I barely stood my ground. The Darkhold jumped and leapt in my grip, trying to squeeze free, but I kept my arm tight around its binding.

The light subsided, the echo of the impact fading in the distance. I peeked over my forearm to see Thor standing tall...

...and Electro staring right back at him.

The ground around Electro had been blown backwards, leaving Max in a damn crater, and he was still standing. “Not enough gun,” Electro snarked towards Thor, the red energy still cracking around him. “You just don’t get it, Thor,” he boasted. “There’s no way you can beat me.”

“You’re the one not getting it, Dillon,” a mechanical voice came from nearby. “Do you really think we’d let Thor have all the fun?” Electro’s gaze snapped over his shoulder as, hovering about five feet off the ground, Iron Man, his armor scorched silver in several places, crossed his arms and stared down at the Villain of Voltage.

“What...how did you...” Electro stammered.

“Rebooted my armor into safe mode,” Iron Man replied. “Backup systems, redundancies, parallel circuits. Worst you could do to me was give me a blue screen of death, Dillon.”

“Hell,” another voice added, “I want your operating system.” Zipping past over head, MACH-IV took an opposite position to Iron Man, the blaster on his arm locked in on Electro. “I know I’m not an Avenger, but this bastard blew me out of the sky. I want a piece of him.”

“I think there’s going to be plenty to go around.” Wonder Man, some of the cuts on his body still dripping blood, was on one knee, supporting himself, red eyes locked on Electro. “That bastard killed my brother. Eric might have been a mass-murdering sociopath, but that doesn’t change the fact that you fried him, Dillon. And I’m gonna stripe your hide for that one.”

“It’s like Thor said, Max.” That was Captain America. His armor still popped like a cooling engine, but there wasn’t any doubt in my mind, or Electro’s, that the fighting spirit hadn’t left his body. “We’re the Avengers. We don’t know the meaning of the word ‘quit.’ You got lucky before, Electro, that’s all.”

I bit back a laugh at the look of incredulous shock on Electro’s face. “Seriously, Max,” I chimed in, waving a hand around my eyes, “you gotta work on this peripheral vision thing. You don’t think I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to stand against you if the damn Avengers weren’t gearing up for round two, do you?”

“AHEM.”

It’s weird to hear a god cough politely.

“I DO HATE TO INTERRUPT THE HEROIC BOASTING, BUT YOU ALL HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE SIX-STORY DREAD LORD THAT IS TOWERING OVER YOU.” Dormammu sounded almost offended as he spoke. “DO YOU SO CASUALLY DISMISS ME?”

“Nay.” That was Thor’s reply. His eyes never left Electro as he answered Dormammu. “Thou are next.”

“NEXT? NO, THOR...I AM NOW!” The hand-shaped shadow at Thor’s feet grew rapidly, and the God of Thunder just barely dove out of the way as Dormammu’s palm missed flattening him. “I AM THE PAST, I AM NOW, I AM THE FUTURE! I AM ETERNITY!”

Thor simply got back on his feet, refusing to brush the dirt off his shoulders as Iron Man spoke. “I think that’s our cue, Avengers. Herman,” Iron Man said, nodding towards the being of red lightning, “you know what do to with Electro. Everyone else, and this includes you, MACH-IV...let’s go kick the ass of a wannabe god.”

Wonder Man picked up Captain America as he took off. Even as all five heroes took off into the air, you could hear that famous refrain, voices mixing together as they went, willingly, to fight the Dread Lord Dormammu...a refrain that never failed to put fear in the heart of villains, and inspire the spirits of the good guys.

“AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

The words reached my ears, but I never took my eyes off of Max, even for a second. He was staring up at the ascending heroes, the electricity that composed his face giving off an air of confused rage. “No...don’t turn your back on me! DAMN IT, I’M THE GOD OF LIGHTNING!”

“The way I see it, Max,” I said snidely, “you’re not a threat. You’re not even a blip on the radar of the Avengers. I mean, hell, they left the Shocker to deal with you, and I’ve been getting my ass kicked all week. Shows how concerned you make them, huh?”

Slowly, Electro lowered his head. “You,” he hissed like a downed power line. “You, Herman. You tried to take everything from me. My life. My reputation. My rightful place at the table. And even now, when there’s no one left to save you, you mock me.”

My body was tensed to jump in every direction at once, a biological fly-by-wire system, but I forced myself to stay in place. I knew what to do with Electro, and in about thirty seconds, my job would be done. I just had to be patient, and keep his attention on me. “All that power, Max, enough to blow me off the face of the planet and scatter the atoms, and you still haven’t done it. How many times did you have me dead-to-rights, and you just...couldn’t...finish the job.”

“Herman, watch your...”

“You might have Dormammu’s blessing,” I interrupted, “and enough juice inside of you to light up Times Square, but that little inferiority complex of yours just won’t let you close the deal. Guess what, Max? A loser with the power of a god? He’s still a loser!”

Some of you might be thinking “Herman’s lost his mind. Electro’s going to fry him.” Others might be thinking “Herman’s obviously got a plan. Let’s see what happens.” The first half of you? Go screw yourselves. The second half? Thanks for coming along this journey of personal growth. Because you could bet your ass I had a plan.

“I’m going to kill you, Herman.” No boasting, no bombast, just a promise.

“You haven’t yet, Max. I don’t think you have the guts. You fried the Grim Reaper, but that’s because he was helpless and had a broken arm. Me?” I pointed my vibro-smasher at him as I taunted him. “I kicked your ass, and I didn’t even have my gauntlets at the time. Face it, Max...you’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid!” Above us, I could hear the sounds of combat as the Avengers engaged Dormammu as Electro raged. “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not afraid of anyone! I control the lightning!”

Man, did I sound this much like a whiny pussy when I was caught doing criminal deeds? Maybe I owe Spider-Man an apology if I ever see him again. “Yeah, well...I got me a secret weapon, Max. Why do you think I’m standing here out in the open, because I’m stupid? Nope. I got a little something up my sleeve that’s going to rock your world.”

“Really, Herman? What is it?” He took a step towards me, and I did my best not to flinch or move back. “Does that compressor on your back go up to eleven? Did you shove insulating tape in your ridiculous costume? Or do you have some kind of magic trick under your hat?”

“Nah...actually...”

I looked up at the sky, picking just the right moment as I saw the object speeding towards where we stood on the ground. “...I think she just hit terminal velocity.”

The sound of a freight train filled the air just as a bright white streak slammed into Electro. I was caught in the blast wave, flung off my feet and onto my back. The compressor knobs digging into my spine were nothing compared to the pressure that washed over me. Guess it was what getting smacked with one of my blasts was like.

I sat up, the Darkhold tucked under my arm, as the residual energies faded away. I pulled my legs up to my chest, just...enjoying the show, as it were.

She floated a foot off the ground, her hair crackling with energy from her attack, spilling out to all side. The bruises on her arms and legs just accentuated how freakin’ hot she was, to say nothing about the skin tight bodysuit that not even rushing air and a fast atmospheric descent could dislodge.

“You wanted the Avengers,” Ms. Marvel said as she hovered over Electro’s prone form. “Well, you got one. Come on, Electro. I’ve got a package for you, special delivery. Sign on the dotted line so I can hand you your ass.”

“You blonde bitch! I’m going to...”

Before Electro could finish his threat, a black heel slammed into where his nose would be. And he screamed in pain, scrambling backwards away from the Avenger as she kept herself off the ground.

“I’m sorry, Electro. I didn’t hear what you were saying. I was too busy trying to kick your teeth in.”

“I said, I’m going to kill you, you blonde bitch!” Electro’s hand thrust towards her, and a blood-red bolt exploded from his hand, crackling with energy. It caught Ms. Marvel square in the sternum, staggering her in mid-air for a moment. “It took a magical hammer for Thor to stand up to me,” Electro sneered as he climbed back to his feet. “What the hell do you have?”

Her response? She darted forward, recovered from his attack, and slammed her first into Electro’s sternum with a snapping jab. The human-shaped form of energy that Electro had become actually buckled, her fist sinking into him for a brief moment, before she flipped, like a swimmer doing a kick-turn, and smacked him under his chin with the steel-tipped toe of her boot. And he flew backwards from the impact. A human-shaped ball of lightning slammed into the ground, and Ms. Marvel just hovered above him, staring down at him. Her face told a tale of grim determination and unleashed anger. Or, to put it another way? Girl was pissed.

“What I have, Electro, is alien-enhanced DNA and a really peeved attitude right now.” Electro, making a noise that sounded like a thousand pissed off wasps, shot a bolt of lightning at her, snapping the shot off. It connected with her shoulder, spinning her slightly, but she spun right back, and a blast of energy came from her hand. Electro was hit in the gut, doubling him over. Faster than I had ever seen her move before, she dropped down, her feet inches off the ground as she dropped the double axehandle on the back of Electro’s neck before immediately shooting back into the air about ten feet.

“You see, Electro, a bad guy like you, all he sees when he looks at me is the blonde hair and the toned body and the big boobs. Some of the smarter goons...” This time, she side-stepped the lightning, sliding to her right in mid-air to let it sail harmlessly past her. “...they know I hit like a Mack truck and can get hit by one too without really feeling it. The really smart ones, the Doctor Dooms and the Taskmaster’s, they know the thing idiots like you forget all the time. I can project energy...and I absorb it.”

Another quick dive, but this time, Electro dove out of the way. For a being of lightning, he still moved and avoided shots like a human being, I noticed. Yeah, I know that, six stories about me, the Avengers were battling Dormammu for the fate of the world...but tell me, how the hell could I tear my eyes away from THIS fight?!?

“So the first time you shocked me and Captain America, you really hurt me. But guess what, Max? I got your code now.”

Wham! She swung down and uppercutted Electro as he was trying to stand back up, following through to swing back up into the air.

“I got your juice inside of me...oh, God, that came out wrong.” Electro was slow to get back up as Ms. Marvel swung back around. This time, both fists went into the small of his back, propelling him forward a good ten feet, the Avenger never once touching the ground. “I know your power, Electro. That’s what I meant. It’s dirty and greasy and feels absolutely repulsive, but it’s sitting in whatever bits of my DNA absorb power. I can channel it and store it without too much pain. Oh, and since it’s magical in nature? That means...”

Wham! This was just a cold cock across his jaw, bolts of lightning arcing through the air like drops of blood.

“...I got a little bit of magic myself. Enough to hit you instead of just passing through you like I would a normal electrical current. Magic’s a two way street, Max, and you drew the short end of the stick.”

Wham! Another uppercut. Electro still shone brightly, but he staggered, completely open as she followed up with another right hook, still hovering in mid-air with each punch.

“Oh, and since I’m not touching the ground? You can’t really arc a current through me, can you? Hell, anything you throw at me hurts about as much as being caught in a summer downpour.”

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!

Left, right, left, right, Electro would have been toothless if he had any left. A referee should be stopping this fight right now, the way Electro stumbled as Ms. Marvel stalked him. “But you, on the other hand, you're feeling every single shot I give you, Electro. Just because you can dish it out doesn't mean you can take it.”

Her hand shot out, steadying Electro for a moment. “Oh, and just as a heads up. Thor usually holds back, because he's a god and could break the world if he wanted to. Me? I'm just a woman who's been magically handcuffed, sent to Limbo, smacked around, had an electric current run through me, been called a blonde bitch three times this evening, and is looking to beat the hell out of someone because of all those things. So if you think I'm holding anything back...”

Ms. Marvel's fist pulled all the way back over her shoulder. She held it there for just a split second, lining up her shot.

“...you're sadly mistaken.”

The air cracked as Ms. Marvel's punch smacked Electro squarely in the jaw. Even without the ground to push off, she packed a lot of power, and it all transferred into Dillon. He left his feet like he had been shot with an artillery shell at point blank range, flung backwards by the pure kinetic force of her punch. The poor bastard bounced along the ground when he landed, rolling backwards like a rag doll. When he came to a rest, his arms and legs were splayed out, and the buzzing coming from him was a low groan.

“You can give up now, Electro,” Ms. Marvel said as she hovered in place, fists clenched at her sides, “or you can keep resisting. And to warn you, I'm hoping you keep resisting.”

He pushed up onto his hands and knees, lifting his head to lock his gaze on Ms. Marvel. He had lost some of the brightness of his aura, but the red lightning still crackled and flowed with the body of the former Maxwell Dillon. “Heh. I'm happy to please you, Ms. Marvel.” Electro sat back on his haunches, his head lolling a bit to one side. “What kind of God of Lightning would I be if I let a...what was the phrase you hated...blonde bitch? No, let's get creative. Airhead. Fat whore. Tramp. Nothing more than the Avenger's eye candy. A living embodiment of Rule 34. Oh, yes, I've seen the pictures online, Ms. Marvel. You're nothing more than a joke, easily replaced by some other peroxide powerhouse at a moment's notice.”

“You just keep making my day, Electro.” She rocketed towards him, both fists extended, going for the knockout shot...

...but Electro leaned backwards, letting her pass over his body. His arms shot up, and grabbed her by the ankles. “Typical, arrogant hero!” He snapped forward, bringing Ms. Marvel over his head and slamming her into the ground. The second she made contact, the red lightning was flowing through her, a current racing up and down her nerves and into the soil. “An Avenger doesn't know the meaning of the word 'defeat?' Then allow me to teach one the definition of the word 'die!'”

Damn it. I took a step forward, my free hand out, before she lashed out with her foot, pulling it free from Electro's grasp. She spun around as best she could, the blast of energy from her hand clipping Electro in the face. She yanked her other leg free and immediately went airborne, out of Electro's range. “Herman, stand back! Your job is to protect the Darkhold!”

“Aw,” Electro said as he shot twin bolts of lightning at Ms. Marvel, which she managed to easily avoid, “is the Shocker getting Ms. Marvel to fight his battles for him? I guess when Aleksei died, you needed a new bodyguard, huh, Herman?”

I clenched my fist, but kept the thumb off my trigger. “Actually, I'm all for gender equality, Max. I kicked your ass in the bank, so it's only fair Ms. Marvel gets to kick yours right now!” And she was right. I had to make sure the Darkhold was safe.

Electro dodged the diving attack from Ms. Marvel, but she pulled up just inches from the ground, like a daredevil jet pilot. He sent bolts of lightning shooting after her as she sped along, hugging the nape of the earth, turning on her axis to avoid Electro's attacks before zooming back into the air. “Hold still, woman,” Electro proclaimed. He was like an electrical chain gun, waving his hands and sending indiscriminate sprays of lightning into the air. But Ms. Marvel easily weaved her way through the fire like she was avoiding flak. I had several wide open shots as Electro spun in place, expending all his energy with each shocking missile he sent at Ms. Marvel. The red glare was definitely gone now, although lightning still made up Electro's form. He wasn't generating power anymore. He was expending it, all in a futile effort to hit Ms. Marvel. “Damn it, I said hold still,” he screamed in frustration.

“What's wrong, Electro? I would think you wouldn’t have any problems hitting a whale like me!” She suddenly dropped, going from her darting flight into a nose dive, directly down at where Electro stood. He put his arms above his head, the sky filling with lightning, blowing every bit of voltage he had in an effort to hit her, to stop her...

...and she avoided it all.

She weaved and spun her way towards him, each bolt zipping past her body. I'm talking mere inches of separation between the lightning and her taut frame, and she easily navigated the desperate defenses of Electro like a fighter pilot.

When Ms. Marvel finally got to Electro's level, my eyes went back to him, away from the amazing aeronautic acrobatics...and I was looking at Maxwell Dillon. Crimson electricity still danced along his body, but there was skin, flesh, muscle, and the familiar yellow-and-green costume. The bullet holes still tore across the front of his costume, but underneath it, the skin was fresh and pink.

Dillon himself panted as Ms. Marvel hovered before him. Sweat ran down his face, his chest heaving, his eyes unfocused. “How,” he gasped. “How did you avoid all that...that was impossible...”

“That's another word the Avengers don't know, Dillon. 'Impossible.'”

“Well,” Electro managed to chuckle. “I'm dry. A dead battery. Go ahead. Take your best shot. Kill me if you got the stones, you blonde bitch.”

She sighed wearily, her eyes beginning to blaze with resigned anger. “You just never learn, Electro. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do something much, much worse to you.”

“If you mean hit me in the groin, Herman's beaten you to it,” he said defiantly.

“Ah. Well, that just means I'll have to grab you somewhere else.” As I watched, with her still off the ground, Ms. Marvel's hand darted between his legs. To some creeps, this would have been a dream come true. To Electro, through...

His eyes went wide as she gripped him. The air he had managed to breathe in exploded from him in a loud gasp, and a choked sound of agony escaped from his mouth soon after.

“There's other places to hurt a man beside his crotch, Dillon. Where I'm grabbing you now? It ain't your balls, and it ain't your @$$#^%&.” She ducked slightly, and then both of them zoomed into the air. As a member of the male gender, I winced in sympathy as Ms. Marvel took Electro into orbit...supporting him in a most painful way. I leaned back, watching the pair ascend, the pain too much for even Electro to mount a comeback.

After about five stories, using the nearby Dormammu for reference, the pair rocketed back towards Earth. I braced myself as Ms. Marvel drove Electro into the ground, using that...area...as the brace. No explosion of energy, no outpouring of electricity. Just shaking earth and vibrating teeth as Ms. Marvel cratered him. Electro bounced once into the air before, still holding him, Ms. Marvel hurled him into the ground. He was already limp at the moment of impact, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body shut down. She let go of him, standing over upon the unconscious form of Maxwell Dillon, the Villain of Voltage. “Spidey's not around to say it, so I guess I have to,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a victorious smirk. ”Lights out, Electro.”

*****

“Damn,” I said as I wandered over to where Electro was sprawled, “you jacked him up.”

“He kept pushing my buttons,” Ms. Marvel replied.

Electro’s nose had been a fountain of blood before he had gone unconscious. Hell, his nose look more like a mashed cauliflower. His chest rose and fell slowly, and nasty bruises peppered his face.

“Note to self,” I said to...myself...”never piss off Ms. Marvel.”

She nodded once, and then turned away from the fallen villain. Her head craned up, and my gaze followed. Above us, the sky was a blur of fire and energy as Iron Man, MACH-IV, and Dormammu traded blows, while Thor’s hammer glanced off of Dormammu’s shoulder. “One down, Herman. Just the big guy to go.”

“You guys have a plan, right? You have a plan to deal with Galactus when he shows up hungry for a snack. You have to have one for Dormammu.”

“We do. It involves Doctor Strange.” She shook her head. “Right now, all we can do is hope he finds his way back from wherever Dormammu pulled him to when he got yanked through the portal. Until then...”

“...you’re going to need a lot more firepower,” I finished.

“Yeah. Any suggestions?”

“Depends,” I answered in an honest tone. “How much do you care about nuclear fallout and property damage in the tri-state area? And even then, I’m willing to bet a nuke wouldn’t even scratch him.”

“Well...only one thing to do then.” She cracked her knuckles while looking up at the fiery face of the Dread Lord.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky, he’ll call you a blonde bitch, and you’ll send him into orbit.” As soon as those words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Especially when her eyes turned towards me, and she cracked one knuckle so loud, it sounded like a bone snapping. “Hey,” I said weakly, “it worked for kicking Electro’s ass...”

“Ms. Marvel! Schultz!”

Oh, thank God for Colonel Fury.

We both turned to see Nick Fury jogging up to the two of us. Behind him, six of SHIELD’s finest, wearing full body armor and carrying assault rifles held their formation. For an old man who had gotten his ass kicked a few minutes ago, he was still leading the way, telling any pain in his body to go sit in the corner until it was ready to play nice.

“Colonel,” I said, fighting down the urge to salute. “I was wondering what the hell happened to you!”

“Snuck away when Thor was giving Electro the whole ‘reason you suck’ spiel.” Fury came to a stop in front of us. His eyes snapped over to where Electro was unconscious on the ground. “You took out Dillon?”

“Ms. Marvel did,” I answered. “Kicked the crap out of him.”

He pointed to four of the SHIELD soldiers with him. “You four, restrain Dillon and keep an eye on him.” Instantly, three rifles were pointed at the downed villain, while the fourth solider broke out the plasteel zip-ties. “Schultz,” Fury said to me, nodding at the tome of magic I clutched in my hands, “this is no time to learn how to read. What the hell is that?”

“It’s called the Darkhold, Colonel,” I responded as Ms. Marvel kept an eye on Electro while the soldiers tied him up. “It’s the book of magic that the Grim Reaper was talking about earlier. Baron Mordo was using it to directly drive the zombies when they broke into the park.”

“And, Colonel Fury,” Ms. Marvel added, “Herman here used it to put all the zombies down. He’s the reason the dead aren’t walking around right now.”

The eyebrow above Fury’s eye-patch raised slightly as he stared at me. “Really? You, Schultz? You worked a book of magic and stopped a zombie plague?” All I could do was nod as I got the full Fury stare, and I could only imagine how bad it would have been if he had both eyes. “Huh,” he said after a few seconds, “how about that. Looks like you’re good for something after all. You two!” He motioned for the final two soldiers to come over to where we stood. “Gentlemen, your job is to protect this man and the book he’s carrying,” Fury said, pointing a finger at me. “Do not let anyone or anything near him.” The two soldiers nodded, and took up flanking positions on either side of me. “Congratulations, Schultz. You just found yourself under police protection.” Before I could snark a reply, he turned to face Ms. Marvel. “So, Dormammu’s on the doorstep. What’s the plan?”

“Beat the hell out of him,” the blonde Avenger replied. “Without Doctor Strange, we really don’t have anyone who can give us the magical firepower to deal with him.”

“What about someone else? Like Brother Voodoo,” Fury countered.

“He’s not here. If he shows up, you can throw him into the fray, Colonel, but right now, that well’s run dry.”

“Damn it. I don’t do this magical crap, Ms. Marvel. Give me a target and let SHIELD fill it with lead!” Fury spit on the ground. “Alright, alright. Right now, SHIELD’s evacuating the civilians to the south end of the park to get them out of harm’s way. Once that’s done, I can spare you all the firepower you want...”

A loud crack split the air. Above us, Iron Man spun out of control as Dormammu caught him with a right hand, sending the Avenger well away from him before he could right himself. As soon as he had control again, Iron Man was right back in the fight. Dormammu swung and swatted at the heroes swarming around him, but it was only their small size and speed that kept them from being smacked out of the sky.

“I don’t think we have that kind of time, Colonel,” I suggested.

“Well, we don’t have an option, Schultz. The Fantastic Four and the Avengers at the ass end of Long Island are flying here, but who knows when they’ll make it. Oh, and it gets better... apparently, Norman Osborn’s thrown together his own little groups of super powered psychopaths. They’re currently helping evacuate, but you give me the word, and I’ll call them in. Just...they probably won’t work well with you and yours, Ms. Marvel.”

I stared as Ms. Marvel for a second, and we both thought the same thing. “Make the call, Colonel...but keep Osborn away from Herman,” she replied. “I don’t trust that man anywhere near a powerful artifact like the Darkhold.”

“Ms. Marvel, after the boondoggle earlier tonight that nearly got everyone in this park slaughtered like penned-up sheep, Osborn damn well knows SHIELD’s got itchy trigger fingers when it comes to him and ain’t gonna need much of an excuse.” He turned on his communicator, and barked his order. “Daniels! Tell Osborn...no. Tell Ares that we need him and the Thunderbolts up here by the reservoir! Dormammu’s shown up and we...yes, you heard me! Osborn’s going to hem and haw about wasting assets. Ares will come here looking for a fight and bring everyone else with him!”

“Why isn’t he using magic?” I was watching Dormammu’s punches barely missing the circling Avengers. “Seriously, this guy...shouldn’t he be like, I don’t know, frogs, plagues, rivers and seas boiling, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together?”

“It’s probably why he needed the Grim Reaper to sacrifice live human beings instead of dead ones. He’s not at peak power on this plane.” I nodded, her answer making sense as she continued. “It’s probably the only reason we have a shot at this. Dormammu at full power? You and I wouldn’t be having this conversation, Herman."

“Look, I know I keep saying I’m out of my league and everything, but...I am out of my league. I couldn’t even DENT this guy!” Thor was still pounding away...I think it was Thor, anyway. MACH-IV was holding Captain America, as the soldier was giving orders to the Avengers.

“Herman, you did your job. All you have to do now is keep that damn book safe and make sure Dormammu, or Electro if he wakes up, doesn’t get his hands on it.” She reached out and gave my shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze. “When this is all over, you’ll probably get a medal or something out of all of this.”

“I appreciate your faith in beating up a god,” I replied.

“We’re the Avengers, Herman. Only the military kicks more ass before 0800 than we do.” She let go of my shoulder, and leaped into the air. “Just keep that damn book safe,” she cried out before flying into the fray, hands glowing with white energy.

*****

“That’s not in my contract,” Venom said as he looked up at the towering form of Dormammu. “I didn’t sign on to fight aliens.”

“That is no alien, Gargan.” The pickup truck’s shocks sighed in relief as Ares leaped out of the cargo area. “That’s Dormammu, a demon from another dimension. He came through that red gateway behind him. It’s our duty to send him back.”

“Alien, demon, what the hell are we supposed to do against that thing?” A thick black-arm pointed up at the ball of fire that made up Dormammu’s face.

“He’s got a human’s being form.” The sullen Japanese kid from earlier pulled himself out of the passenger side window, slithering up to the roof and standing on top, looking at the demon. “That means he’s vulnerable. He has a weakness of some sort.”

“Fantastic.” Bullseye smirked as he climbed out of the driver’s side. “Find me a hamstring,” he said as he pulled a long, wicked sword from off his back,” and I’ll cut that bastard down to size. He’s magic? Well, so am I.”

“Where’s your boss,” Nick Fury asked the flying form of Moonstone. The blonde in the skin-tight outfit hovered over the pick-up truck that had brought the Thunderbolts here, sizing up the situation as Fury called out to her.

“He’s back at the command trailer,” she replied. “We’re going to need more reinforcements, and he wants to be on deck to help coordinate them.”

“Command trailer? We need him and that candy-striped power armor of his down HERE! Does he think a couple extra plasma rifles are going to do anything against that?” Fury slammed his hands down on the hood of the truck. “Damn it, Osborn! What the hell are you playing at?!?”

“Ares,” Moonstone said over Fury’s rising ride of frustration. “Dakken and Bullseye should work on the hamstring idea. If they can hobble him, it’ll be easier to get him off his feet so the non-fliers can work him over.”

Ares rubbed his chin, studying the demon, and nodded once. “Dakken, Bullseye. If you can cripple Dormammu, do so.”

Bullseye grinned under his mask. “Never got to kill a god before. This should be fun.” The Japanese boy, Dakken, hopped off the pick-up truck’s roof. The two of them passed by me, the grin still plastered on Bullseye’s face, as he and Dakken took the long way around towards Dormammu’s heels.

“Want me to go with them?” Venom was crouched on the ground, muscles bulging under the sheer black skin of the symbiote he shared his body with.

“No. You’ve seen ‘Empire Strikes Back,’ Gargan. If he starts to waver, you wrap up his legs like one of those snow walkers and yank him over.” Moonstone gave Venom a harsh smirk. “And make sure we’re out of the way when he tips over.”

“Got it.”

“I guess I just stand here and look pretty, huh,” I commented. Aside from the smirk Bullseye had given me as he walked by, the Thunderbolts hadn’t even noticed us as they set about their task. Ares held his massive axe in one hand, studying Dormammu with a critical eye, while Venom was motionless, save for his tongue slowly moving over his sharp teeth.

“Well, Herman, you can just stand there,” Moonstone shot back, without even sending a glance in my direction. “The big boys are here now to save the day.”

“Oh? Then I guess my feeling of nervousness in my gut’s really just relief, huh?”

“We’re not stupid like the Avengers, Herman,” Venom hissed behind me. “We like to plan things out.”

“Great. You have a plan, the Avengers have a plan, the Grim Reaper had a plan! I was always the guy with the plans! Everyone’s ripping me off!”

That earned a chuckle from the former Scorpion. “True, too true. You know, Herman, with the zombie apocalypse killing off about half the planet, I’m sure there are jobs open in the Thunderbolts...”

“Don’t even joke about that, Mac,” I growled, the Darkhold shifting in my arms as I felt a bit of anger.

“Don’t antagonize Herman Schultz, Gargan.” Ares had stepped forward, coming between me and the symbiote. “This man has done more to help humanity than you have in the past week. He’s earned our respect. Go help Dakken and Bullseye. Now.”

“I was just kidding around,” Venom groused as he bounded away, leaping across the ground on all fours towards where the two men were already, from a safe distance, trying to find a weak point in Dormammu’s heel or calf.

So there I was, standing next to the God of War. He was staring up at Dormammu, much like I was, watching the battle flaring around him. “How long have they been fighting, Herman,” he asked me.

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” I watched as MACH-IV shot a barrage of missiles as Dormammu’s face, only for the projectiles to vaporize in the fiery aura surrounding him. “I can’t tell if they’re even putting a dent in him.”

“Dormammu is biding his time,” Ares replied. “He is slowly building up his reservoir of magical power. Eventually, he will begin to unleash the magic he has learned over the course of eternity. And not even the mighty Avengers will be able to stand up to that. From there, it will be a matter of time before he raises the dead again, and the cycle of undeath will continue until the whole plane has been devoured.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, speaking with thousands of years of history under his belt. I could only try not to gulp. “Then what the hell are we going to do, Ares?”

“Without Doctor Strange? We fight.” Ares hefted his war axe. “That is all there is left to do. Fight and hope for a miracle. Moonstone. I wish to bury my axe into his head.”

“Sounds good to me, Ares. Hang on.” Moonstone swooped down behind Ares, and wrapped her arms around his thick waist. They took off, yellow energy trailing after her as she carried the massive Ares into the air. Moonstone was on a direct course for Dormammu’s face, Ares gripping his war axe with both hands, already lining up a solid...

The leather-gloved hand pimp-slapped Moonstone before she cleared Dormammu’s waist. “WOMAN, PLEASE. DO YOU THINK I FAILED TO NOTICE YOU?”

The pair went flying to one side, Moonstone spinning out of control. Ares went flying as well, Moonstone’s grip on him coming undone from the impact. She quickly recovered from her spin, though, and swooped down to grab Ares as he passed Dormammu’s knee. “Bastard hits like a freight train,” she told Ares as she held him with both arms again.

“Aye,” a voice called from above. “And in every moment that passes, his strength upon this material plane grows.” Thor lowered himself to face the two Thunderbolts, sweat covering his skin. “Moonstone. Ares. What brings you here?”

“We are here to defeat Dormammu,” Ares replied. “And your Avengers are in a perfect position to assist us, God of Thunder.” I couldn’t believe he said that line with a straight face.

Thor’s smile in response was small and tight. “The Avengers could use your assistance, God of War.”

“We have several guys trying to trip him up,” Moonstone said, pointing down to the heel of Dormammu’s foot. “If we can knock him down...”

“Aye. Ares, you should assist on the ground. I will take command up high.” Before Ares could reply, Thor shot off, heading towards the head. Ares simply motioned for Moonstone to take him down to the ground, swinging behind the demon.

“THE HIGH/LOW TRICK? DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE DEALING WITH? DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM? I AM DORMAMMU! THE DREAD LORD!” He suddenly kicked backwards, and the Thunderbolts went sprawling, leaping out of the way as he tried to drive his foot into them. “I SEE THE AVENGERS HAVE FOUND NEW RECRUITS! COME, THEN! WHEN THE TIMES COMES, YOUR SACRIFICES WILL GRANT ME THE POWER TO FINISH DEVOURING THE WORLD!”

It was like watching your favorite football team lose, and coming from a Jets fan, that’s saying something. One kick just scattered a whole bunch of supers, and from what I could tell, the other group wasn’t faring any better. I hadn’t seen Electro own the Avengers, and in the end, that had turned out to be nothing more than a fluke victory on his part. This time out...Dormammu wasn’t beating the Avengers. He was toying with them. And if Ares and Thor were right, and he was just waiting for his recharge to unleash his magic...

“We’re so screwed, Herman,” I said to myself.”

“Did someone say ‘bowling a perfect game?!?’”

The high pitched voice caught me and the SHIELD soldiers off guard. They had their plasma rifles spun around and aimed at the red-and-black figure before I could even react. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, guns,” Deadpool squealed as he raised his hands into the air. “Ms. Marvel makes a Simpsons quote, and everyone loves it! Deadpool makes one, and everyone pulls a gun! Unless you pulled them because Deadpool is talking in the third person. Say the word, and Deadpool will stop.”

“Guys, guys! It’s cool,” I said, waving my arms at the SHIELD soldiers. “It’s cool, he’s on our side.”

“Mr. Schultz,” one of the soldiers replied, “Wade Wilson is one of the most dangerous men on the planet. Keeping weapons trained on him at all times is SHIELD protocol.”

“It’s ok, Herman. I just wanted to make sure they were following protocol, and not aiming those things at me for my poor choice of words.” Slowly, Deadpool lowered his hands, and stepped forward. “So, this is the dramatically appropriate time for me to arrive, right Herman?”

“I...guess so?” Staring at him with what I was sure was a look of utter confusion, I pointed up to Dormammu. “If you have something...dramatically appropriate...that will put Dormammu down, then I’ll go so far as being damn glad to see you.”

“Sorry, Herman,” Deadpool replied. “Not even the biggest weapon I got would scratch Flamebrain’s paint job. However, I have something much, much better.” He reached down into one of the pouches on his belt and began to rummage around. “Now, where the hell did Deadp...I mean, where did I put it...”

“Hey,” I asked as he looked for something in the pouch, “wasn’t the Trapster with you? You’re coming from the south end of the park, right?”

“He’s still down there,” the mercenary replied. “You think he’s going to be dumb enough to come up here and deal with this?”

“Makes him the smart one. I can’t believe we’re tangling with this guy either...”

“I meant you, Herman,” Deadpool corrected. “Seriously, after the one-punch beating you gave him earlier, he’s not coming anywhere near you. He’s afraid you’re going to kill him.” I could only shrug as he gave a small cry of triumph. “Ah ha! I have here in this bottle, Herman, the cure for all your ills.” Deadpool pulled his hand out of his pouch, and held up a small glass vial with a black rubber stopper. Inside the vial, a bright blue liquid gently glowed as it gently swirled at the bottom.

“What the hell is that?”

“It ain’t Nuka-Cola, Herman. This right here is exactly what you asked for right before I showed up and saved this tale from a horrible death.” He gently tapped the vial with a gloved finger. “You know what’s in here, Herman? Plasma. You know what makes up plasma? Molecules. Now instead of just flat out telling you what that means, why don’t we let your vaunt...”

“Molecules! Molecule Man!” I snapped my fingers and damned near almost hugged this man. “What is it? Anti-matter? No, that’d eat through the vial. Some kind of high explosive?” After a second, it dawned on me, the light bulb clicking in my head. “Is that...that’s Molecule Man himself, isn’t it?”

“Just a small part of him,” Deadpool replied. “We couldn’t fit all of him in the vial. I wanted to try, but Owen kept saying no.”

“So if that’s him...no. That’s a part of him. That’s something that ties back to him. Something that ties all the way back to...Denver?” I nodded to myself, quickly getting it. “That’s a conduit, isn’t it?

“And the man gets a cigar! See me after the epilogue, I’ll hook you up.” Deadpool popped the stopper out with one finger. “It’s radioactive, just a bit, so he can home in on it. Molecule Man made his own tracking beacon when you called him. He just needed a volunteer to run it through hyperspace and bring it back to New York, and I figured, hell, I’ve never been to hyperspace, even though I played ‘Defender’ like a champ back in the day. He just needed, oh...how much time did he need...”

An airy musical sound came from Deadpool’s belt.

“...I think he needed about this much time.” He pulled an iPhone out of the same pouch he had been digging around in for the vial. “Hey, Owen! Glad to hear your voice. You ready to get this show on the road? Uh huh? Well, that’s just ducky, because I got the Shocker here and he’s staring at me like someone’s giving him the business. Uh huh. See you real soon!”

He slid the phone back into his belt, and flashed me a big thumbs up. “You’re gonna love this, Herman. It’s gonna involve some really cool looking special effects. Tom Savini, eat someone else’s heart out!”

Deadpool was humming “The Final Countdown” by Europe as he tipped the vial over. “Duh na na na...na na na na...duh na na na...duh duh duh duh duh na...” The blue plasma slipped from the bottle. It fell through the air like melting ice cream and landed on the grass at our feet. We all took a step back, myself, Deadpool, and the two SHIELD soldiers as the plasma proceeded to just...lie there in a lump.

“Huh,” Deadpool said. “You’d think it’d be more...sciencey.”

“Give it time,” I said. You had to give science time. “Just...give it time.”

Slowly, like a watched pot finally starting to boil, the plasma shifted. It stretched into the air, like a snake being charmed by a flute player. Fascinated, I stared as the plasma pulled itself off the ground, rising like a hoverboard. It curled upon itself, swirling down into a tight little ball as it reached eye level. It shone bright, blue lights with white striping as it began to spin in a clockwise manner.

“Guys,” I said, “this is where we stand the hell back.” The sounds of the Avengers and the Thunderbolts battling Dormammu behind us were in the back of our minds as we all carefully stepped away from the swirling ball. It started to spin, quickly reaching a rapid speed, turning on its axis like a generator wheel.

Then reality got a hole in it.

My mind immediately tried to rationalize the sight in front of me as the swirling ball simply expanded like an instantly filled balloon. Blue and white were replaced by a huge field of black, white stars shimmering in the background. It was the counterpart to the red portal on the other side of Dormammu, but I’d rather step into the blackness of space than the blood red circle in a heartbeat.

Deadpool gave a low whistle. “Never saw it from this side,” he said quietly, awe in his voice. Black shadows were moving towards the portal’s exit, moving at a high rate of speed...and I couldn’t have been happier to see any of them.

As soon as the first person went “boots dry” on the grass of Central Park, a voice boomed behind us. “WHAT? WHAT IS THIS? WHO OPENED A NEW RIP IN TIME AND SPACE?”

Molecule Man, his sand brown hair windblown by the trip through hyperspace, took a few steps forward. “I did, Dormammu,” he called out towards the towering demigod as the rest of the forms poured out of the portal. “Anything magic can do, science can do. And anything science can do...” He waved his hand over his head in a large circle. “...I can do better!”

The portal snapped backwards for a second before zipping shut, leaving reality in its place. And reality consisted of about fifty pissed-off supervillains, all standing behind Molecule Man, spoiling for a fight.

“Well,” Speed Demon said, the smuggest smirk humanly possible, etched under his red goggles, “look at this! Appears we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?”

Hydro-Man’s watery form gave a boastful reply. “Big damn heroes, Speed!”

“Ain’t we just?” Speed Demon raised a hand in my direction. “Damn, Herman? I heard you were tangling with a big guy, but this takes the damn cake. Your talent for pissing people off is damn near cosmic-level!”

“Yes, James, I’m very proud,” I shot back, a big grin on my face. Spread out behind Molecule Man were the most of the same villains that had crowded into my warehouse to help protect a whole bunch of civilians. Faces I had only seen hours ago filled me with joy and relief reserved for seeing long absent friends. Speed Demon and Hydro-Man were at the forefront, but behind them...the muscular duo of Thunderball and Piledriver, all that was left of the Wrecking Crew...the snapping tentacles of Doctor Octopus...the Awesome Android cracking its knuckles, and next to him, the Mad Thinker in a hoverchair with a ridiculously looking over-engineered Tesla gun bolted to the front...and even a few new additions...the Wizard, hovering in mid-air in his purple power armor, and Whirlwind floating next to him, his lower body engulfed by a tornado...

“You came back,” I said with awe. All of them. They had all come back. I had begged Molecule Man to send everyone back to help beat back the flood of zombies pouring into Central Park. And even with the zombie plague ended, they had come back.

“Well...yeah. You called. We answered,” Hydro-Man replied. “Granted, we’re really confused because someone said you were the Chameleon or the Chameleon was you...but Speed Demon said you called him, asking for help. So...we answered.”

“Besides,” Speed Demon said, still grinning a bit, “we heard you were the one who killed all the damn zombies. So...we all owe you one. Playing hero should square the damn bill, Herman, right?”

“HEROES? HONESTLY?” Dormammu’s mocking laughter boomed across the night sky. “ALL OF YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN LAUGHING STOCKS, HIGH END PEASANTS AT BEST! NONE OF YOU ARE WORTHY TO BE OF NOTICE TO MY TIME!”

“Damn,” Aqueduct remarked, his head craned back to stare up at the form of Dormammu said. The tank on the back of the hydromancer bubbled slightly, filled with high pressure water. “I think the big evil guy with his face on fire just said we’re not worthy of his time.”

“You’re right,” Blizzard replied. “You think we should listen to him and just go home?”

After a few seconds, Aqueduct shook his head. “Nah. I didn’t get yanked through hyperspace to not get in my pound of flesh against the guy who tried to kill the entire world. Ice fist to the balls?”

“Ice fist to the balls.” And the two of them rushed forward, Blizzard making an ice slide while Aqueduct flew into the air, propelled by jets of water shooting from his hands. That was the kick-off, as the rest of the villains went after them. They rushed past where I stood, and I had to spin to watch them file past, sprinting at Dormammu.

“Fliers, go high, and assist the Avengers! Everyone else, to the rear! Assist whoever is back there! Get this abomination off his feet!” The Wizard, taking charge, pointed towards Dormammu as the fliers streamed past. “You do not come to the Wizard’s planet and try to destroy it!”

“It’s because of you, my sister’s dead!” Machete, his trademark weapons held in both hands, held them into the air. “I will see you burn in hell, foul creature!”

“You mess with one of us,” Cottonmouth yelled, his adamantium jaw unhinged, “you mess with all of us!”

The silent sound of a sword being drawn was audible as the last of the bad guys charged Dormammu. “For pony,” Deadpool whispered before, with a loud battle cry, he threw himself at Dormammu, infringing heavily on a registered trademark in the process.

“FOR POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONY!”

*****

You’re going to think I’m cheating here.

There’s no way I can do this fight justice.

Close your eyes for a minute and imagine almost seventy super-powered beings in action. Lasers sizzling through the air, the sound of hammers and axes banging off of magical armor, ice and fire raining from the sky, and the voices of Captain America, Ares, and the Wizard barking out orders, trying to control the chaotic scene that’s going on around them and barely succeeding. Speed Demon running a thick cable around Dormammu’s legs, and Venom plucking the wild cable out of mid-air when it snaps. The Wizard and MACH-IV, side by side as they try to blast a weak point somewhere in Dormammu’s armor. Constrictor and Ares trying to find purchase to lift Dormammu’s foot and gain some leverage.

And I’m not even coming close to describing everything that’s gone on around me. The Avengers, the Thunderbolts, and an army of supervillains...all working together because my dumb ass decided, on an impulse, to pull three civilians out of a 7-11 and someone put it up on YouTube for the entire world to see. A week ago, everyone here would have been at each others throats, and now, all those differences had been put aside.

No words could describe it. Michael Bay and James Cameron couldn’t put it on screen with an unlimited budget. All you can do is close your eyes and try to imagine it. Or look for someone’s jumpy cell phone footage on YouTube

Besides, I’m not the best one to describe the melee anyway. Because I was the one standing on the sidelines watching the entire time.

*****

“I feel so useless,” I muttered as I watched the entire fight from about 200 feet away.

“Ms. Marvel ordered you to protect the Darkhold,” one of the SHIELD soldiers responded. “And Colonel Fury ordered us to protect you. This is as close as we’re going to allow you to get.”

“Yeah, yeah...” He was absolutely right, of course. The last thing we need was Dormammu getting his hands on a book of dark magic. He hadn’t come for it, though, ever since Electro got knocked out by Ms. Marvel. He was too busy dealing with the swarm of superheroes and supervillains around him. Dormammu staggered, and he cursed, but he was still standing. Were the heroes just a distraction? Were they actually getting to him? Or was he just toying with them, biding his time until his powers came back? His attacks were getting a lot closer to the fliers, and his stomps on the ground at the people trying to knock him off his feet were carrying a lot more impact. Some of the most powerful beings on the planet...and it wasn’t enough.

Fury had said that the Sentry and the Fantastic Four were inbound, but there was no way we could count on them arriving in time. This was the final stand, 35-32 :03 seconds left in the fourth quarter, and the opposing team was first-and-goal on the 2-yard line. We, all of us, had fought hard to save this world, defending the helpless from the living dead, and now, was there a shot in hell left at actually winning? Actually making it all worth while?

You bet your ass there was. Ms. Marvel said it just moments before. “We don’t know the meaning of the word defeat,” I said quietly. Alright, Herman. It’s time for just one more plan. And the objective is simple. Beat Dormammu somehow. If the combined forces currently tearing into him couldn’t bring him down, then there was only one person who could stop him.

Doctor Strange.

Who was lost somewhere in the magical ether of the red portal behind Dormammu.

Ok, options, options. Really, the only one was going through the portal and looking for him, but...it’d be like going to Newark. You have no clue where you’re going and will probably end up shanked and robbed, and spending my final hours bleeding out in a mystical dimension ranks just below getting eaten alive by zombies.

I didn’t have a choice, though, did I? We needed Doctor Strange. We needed someone who could take on Dormammu, someone who didn’t lose...

...

...

...someone who never lost. Ever. Ever.

Oh, crap. Damn it. Even now, after everything I’ve done, he still keeps popping up. The one guy who never, ever, ever loses. The guy who’s ass you could kick and he’d still come at you with a smirk and a stupid quip. I don’t think I’ve ever hated, really hated, anyone more than this person (with, of course, the recent exception of Norman Osborn), but, when push comes to shove...he’s the man. The problem was, in order to get to him, I need to talk to a third guy, who was currently the number two guy on my ‘most pissed off’ list. All we need is Electro back on his feet and Stephanie Torrano, who blew me off at the Senior Prom, and I’d be depending on the top five people I currently hate the most to help defeat Dormammu...

“Hey,” I told one of the SHIELD soldiers standing next to me, “I need a favor. I have an idea.”

He turned to look at me, his face hidden under the tinted visor of his helmet. “You have an idea? What can I do to help, Mr. Schultz?”

Mister Schultz...still sounds kind of nice. “I need you to make a call and get someone on the line for me. Not on the hands-free stuff inside your helmet, but on your actual communicator. I need you to get someone on the line and then hand the phone over to me. If I try to call him, he’s not going to want to talk to me.”

“Sure,” the soldier responded. He unclasped a small device from his shoulder, barely bigger than an iPod Nano. “I can try. Who do you need?”

Deep breath. “I need you to get in touch with Peter Petruski. He should be in the south end of the park with the rest of the refugees.”

“The Trapster?” The soldier flipped his visor up. He couldn’t have been old enough to drink as he stared at me in confusion. “What do you want him for? Scuttlebutt says he tried to kill you and you decked him when you caught up with him.”

“Yeah,” I said as, overhead, Moonstone hammer-swung Wonder Man towards Dormammu. “We’re not on speaking terms right now. Which is why the universe is screwing with me and making him so damn important.”

“Wow. The universe must NOT like you, Mr. Schultz.” He flipped open the communicator. “Command, Corporal Sonby here. I need you to patch me through to Peter Petruski’s government communicator. Priority One. Yeah, I’m being serious. Priority One.”

After a few seconds, a series of beeps, like a fax machine making a connection, came from the device. Just afterward, a familiar voice responded. “Petruski here.”

“Petruski, Corporal Sonby. Wait one.” The soldier handed the communicator over to me, placing it in my outstretched hand.

“Peter,” I said, “it’s Herman. I need your help.”

Silence from the other end. No surprise. “Pete, I’m being serious. I’m standing here watching the Avengers and the Thunderbolts and pretty much everyone you and I ever drank with or had a beer with throwing themselves as a guy calling himself the Dread Lord and actually living up to the name. I have a plan, but I need your help. No joke.”

More silence. I let go of the talk button to let out an exasperated sigh before diving right back in. “Come on, Pete...please. I know you’re there, man.”

“What the hell do you want, Herman,” his voice shot back from the other end. “You broke my damn jaw!”

“Norman Osborn had you try to kill me, Pete!”

“And he tried to have you kill me a couple of years ago! Why the hell do you think I was so pissed at you!”

“Look, look, Pete...if you want to argue about this later on, we can, alright? Hell, I’ll even buy the damn beer! But right now, Pete...I know you’re tight with Osborn. I don’t care. I need your help.”

The quiet almost made me jump out of my skin. The sounds of the huge battle behind me paled in comparison to the lack of noise. “Come on, Pete,” I said quietly. “You know I wouldn’t be calling you right now after all that’s happened if I didn’t need your help.”

“...you’re going to owe me, Herman,” he finally said. “I’m talking the big bucks.”

“Fine, great,” I said in relief, “whatever you want. Look, I just have one question, and I know you can answer it. What did Osborn do with Spider-Man?”

“...Spider-Man? What the hell do you want him for?”

“Because,” I told him, “he’s fought Dormammu before, and that lucky bastard always figures out a way to freaking’ win. Maybe he knows something the rest of us don’t. Right now, the Avengers and Osborn’s team need every single advantage they can get their hands on.”

“Ok...” Trapster replied. “So then why the hell are you calling me, Herman? I haven’t seen him.”

“Come on, Pete. Don’t lie to me now. I’m being serious here.”

“Screw you,” he spat at me over the airwaves. “Why the hell would you think I had something to do with Spider-Man disappearing? I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning when he went out on zombie patrol!”

“Oh, just cut the crap,” I shot back. “The last time I saw Spider-Man and Boomerang, they were coming into Central Park over the wall down by 59th Street. Nick Fury said they never showed up. If Spider-Man’s missing, I’m willing to bet your boss had something to do with it.” Boomerang. I had completely forgotten about him. What the hell kind of friend was I? “So tell me where Osborn shoved Spider-Man and Boomerang, and I’ll forget you tried to kill me. We’ll be even and square.”

“Herman, I don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about,” Trapster replied. “I’ve been with Osborn all damn day, and I never saw or heard anything about Spider-Man or Fred. And I’m telling the damn truth.”

“Damn it! Come on, man, you have to seen or heard something. This is...we need Spider-Man’s help, Pete, or else...”

“I got nothing, Herman. As far as I know, Osborn had nothing to do with Spider-Man’s disappearance. Now, get off the damn line, I’m risking my ass and actually trying to keep a bunch of civilians in order.” A loud beep indicated communications had been cut off.

“Damn it,” I swore, shoving the communicator back at Corporal Sonby. Either Pete was lying, in which case I couldn’t do a damn thing about it, or Pete was telling the truth, in which case, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Osborn had to have Spider-Man, and Boomerang as well. Why the hell else would the wall-crawler and Fred up and vanish? They had made it into the park, and I don’t think any goons on Osborn’s payroll could have stopped those two from making it back to the refugee camp and alerting everyone else about the Grim Reaper’s attack. So what the hell happened? Did some kind of invisible hand just come out nowhere and snatch...

...them away...like Dormammu had done with Doctor Strange earlier?

Electro warns the Grim Reaper’s something that myself, the Punisher, Boomerang, and Spider-Man knows what’s going on. The Punisher goes after Black Talon. That had to be enough warning for the Reaper to set some kind of trap, snag Spider-Man and Boomerang and tuck them away somewhere, before they could warn everyone and Doctor Strange shuts down making that portal that let the Grim Reaper’s crew sneak into Central Park and gave Dormammu an opening to force his way through. And if he’s snagged Spider-Man and Boomerang and then snagged Doctor Strange, odds are he’s thrown them all into the same jail cell or prison, right?

It was flimsy. Damn flimsy. But if anyone out there had a better, more thought out line of logic...well, too late now, ain’t it?

Of course, they probably weren’t even ON this planet anymore. We need to get them back here somehow, but how? They were lost in some mystical dimension or trapped in spell-locked room or something magical along those lines...

...it’s official. I hate my train of thought sometimes. First, I realized that I need the one guy on this planet I hate the most to help beat Dormammu. Second, I realized that that person, along with another person who could help AND one of my closest friends, if not the closest friend now that Aleksei was gone, were trapped somewhere beyond my ability to help them. Third, and worst of all, it turns out I did have the ability to help them. I was holding it in my hands at that very moment.

For someone’s as smart as I am, I end doing some very, very, VERY stupid things on nothing more than pure impulse now and again. See the chain of events that brought me to this damn point. But hell, it’s worked out so far, ain’t it?

“Um...Mr. Schultz?”

“Just keep me covered,” I told the confused Corporal Sonby as I sat down on the ground. “My plan didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped, so I’m falling back on Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“I have no freaking’ clue,” I answered honestly. “’B’ probably stands for ‘Book of Magic Boning Me In the Ass.’” I set the closed Darkhold on my lap, and rolled my neck. I wasn’t stretching, it just felt like a neck-rolling moment.

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning...if I’m still alive...but you and me have to have another talk.”

Silence from the book.

_I know you’re in there. Don’t get mad at me just because I didn’t fall for your temptation. It was a nice try. A week ago, I probably would have given in. You just caught me during a time of self-assurance and optimism. It’s not you. It’s me._

_...is your humor always so horrid..._

_I’m ain’t known for my jokes. Like I said, you and me need to talk._

_...we have nothing to say to you, Herman...you threw a change at glory and prestige away, and made a mockery of our powers, of the gift we offered you..._

_Come on, man...don’t be pissy like that. You made me an offer, and I ran with it. I just ran in a different direction than you want me to. I can’t be the first person to trick you like..._

_...you did not trick us! You exploited us! A small-minded creature such yourself could never trick us!_

I wasn’t going to argue with the tricky book of black magic. _You’re right. I just got lucky. I found a loophole and walked right through it, like a hacker exploiting a computer bug. There’s no way a putz like me could ever get one up on you._

_...this is true...you are what you would refer to as an end user...you are the catalyst, and we are the ones who cast the spells...the living dead possess more raw magical talent then you do, Herman Schultz...you are clever, but in the end, you simply push the trigger..._

_Yeah, well, magic ain’t my thing. But right now, we’re still bound together. That’s right, isn’t it?_

_...yes...your blood still stains our pages...you are still our master..._

_And I take it you ain’t too enthused by that turn of events. You wanted blood, and I didn’t give it to you, but now you’re stuck with me_

_...being in your hands is like being a paintbrush in the hands of a deaf, dumb, and blind person..._

_Ok, then...thanks for the vote of confidence. Well, then, I have a deal for you. I don’t exactly want to be bound to you either. I’m a little bit science, you’re a whole lot of magic, and those two don’t mix. You help me do one thing, and I’ll release you from any and all ties and obligations the two of us made._

_...why would you do this...you would be giving away incredible power..._

_Because I’m not an incredible power kind of guy. I got my vibro-smashers, and that’s all I’ll ever need. You’re too much of a temptation for me to have around.”

_...you could just lock me away..._

_Man, you’re an evil book of magic. You’ll find a way to escape, and then I’m screwed. No, it’s real easy. You help me do one thing, and we’re square. You go your way, and I’ll go mine._

_...what is it you wish for me to do...._

_Summon Fred Myers, Doctor Strange, and Spider-Man to me._

_...you wish to bring them here..._

_Yeah. One’s a friend and the other two will help me stop Dormammu. And don’t think Dormammu’s going to treat you kindly, he sent Electro after you, and once that plan fell apart, he’s spending more time fighting the Avengers and everyone else than just reaching down here and snatching you from my hands. You bring them back here, they help get rid of Dormammu, and then you’re free and clear to find some other sap to treat and tempt._

_...difficult...they are on the other side of that portal...but limbo is vast...hard to pin down..._

_Wait. How the hell did you know that?_

_...friendship binds you to the one you call Boomerang...hope binds to the one called Doctor Strange...hate binds you to the one you call Spider-Man...you are the beacon...you are the lighthouse...but they are far away, Herman..._

_Can you bring them back?_

_...blood..._

_Oh, not this again. Come on._

_...drops...three drops...one for each...can be done...not to bind us...but to fuel the ritual..._

_Damn it...alright. Alright. You bring them back here, safe and sound, and in one piece...no tricks, no bringing back their bodies and stranding their minds....I want them back like they left._

_...be warned...you must open me to the proper page...once I am open, Dormammu will feel the flow of magic...he will try to stop you..._

_Yeah...well...they better keep him off of me, then._

I opened the cut again on my forehead. It took a while longer, as it had begun to heal slightly under the scab, but I felt the warmth pooling in the wound. I leaned forward, pushing on the skin with my finger. The first two drops sunk into the profane cover, while the third, when it hit, flowed up the front of the book like it was rolling downhill towards the center.

_...open me, Herman...and I shall hold up my end of the bargain..._

*****

As soon as I cracked the Darkhold open, I could feel Dormammu's gaze immediately, intense heat focusing on the back of my lowered head like a laser beam.

“WHAT IS THIS? WHO HAS OPENED THE DARKHOLD?”

_Whatever you're going to do, do it quick._

_...I can not be rushed...they must be located..._

“SCHULTZ? HERMAN SCHULTZ? WHAT INSANITY IS THIS? YOU'RE NOT A SORCERER! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A STAGE MAGICIAN!” A booming footstep...and then another, this one closer to where I was sitting. “THE LAST ACT OF A DESPERATE MAN, BUT I KNOW ALL THE LEGENDS AND FABLES, HERMAN. IT'S INSECTS LIKE YOU THAT FATE CHOOSES TO BE THE HERO OF THE DAY.”

A leather-like boot crashed down onto the ground next to me. I looked up from the mystic pages of the Darkhold to see an ankle...and a knee...and a thigh...

“SO, I'M GOING TO END YOUR STORY RIGHT NOW, HERMAN. NO ONE WILL STOP THE DREAD LORD FROM FEASTING UPON THIS PLANET! NO ONE!”

“Oh no! Ditch,” Corporal Sonby cried as Dormammu dropped to one knee, ignoring the beams of light the Living Laser was pouring into the fireball that was his head. The ground shook at Dormammu steadied himself and raised his huge hand into the air. Sonby and the other SHIELD soldier dove out of the way as the hand pushed through the air like Dormammu was trying to smash a fly. I didn't even have time to try to get to my feet, barely able to shift to one side as the palm of his hand descended towards me to flatten me into the ground and the first parts of my childhood flashed before my eyes...

Crunch.

Visions of beating up Timmy Schneider when I was seven dropped away as a stone pillar erupted from the earth in front of me. It rose into the air, the top of the pillar falling away as it turned into three fingers stretching towards Dormammu's palm strike. As the Dread Lord was about twenty feet away from turning me into a strawberry cream cheese schmear, the fingers caught his wrist, quickly wrapping around it. The stone arm sunk back into the ground as it slowed Dormammu's attack, bringing it to a halt about ten feet above my exposed head.

“Don't just stand there,” Molecule Man yelled out as he concentrated on gripping Dormammu's wrist, “somebody give me a hand here!”

Thor was the first to arrive, followed quickly by Wonder Man and Whirlwind, who created an updraft as the two Avengers pushed and shoved on Dormammu's wrist just above where the stone hand of Molecule Man was straining to keep me from being squished.

_...they are close, Herman..._

_Put that on hold, we're moving!_

_...if we move, the connection will be lost..._

_If we don't move, we're going to get squished._

_...if we don't move, you will be squished....we will simply be scuffed...the connection is growing stronger..._

“FOOLS! I HAVE ANOTHER HAND!” Yeah, thanks for the update, Dormammu. His other hand simply swept along the ground, skimming the grass as now he looked to simply smack me upside my spine and send me flying through the air. I found myself flashing back to Timmy Schneider again...

I was already bracing myself for the impact, leaning away, which would have been as effective as trying to catch a sword stroke with my bare hand, when Dormammu's hand suddenly stopped. And I mean exactly that. It just came to a screeching halt, no sound, no light, just halting. I swear, I could make out the individual seams in Dormammu's glove as it hung motionless in mid-air.

“WHAT? WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?”

“No sorcery,” a voice I had heard on TV time and time again call out in a taunting manner. “Just something fantastic.”

Oh, thank God they showed up.

As the blonde with the look of concentration on her face kept both hands splayed towards Dormammu, the young man in the blue spandex leaped down from the silver aircar, a huge grin plastered all over his face. “Well look at this! Appears we got here just in the...”

“We already made that joke, flamebrain,” Speed Demon called out as he zipped past the young man. “Get some new material!”

“What?” The grin quickly faded from his face. “You're kidding me! Come on, that joke was tailored made for our entrance!”

“Focus, Johnny,” a gravelly voice answered. A huge orange rock, in the shape of a man, climbed out of the aircar. “No flame on, no clobbering time, no screwing around. Time to get serious.”

“THE WORLD'S GREATEST HEROES!” Dormammu pulled his hand away from the invisible barrier that had halted it, before slamming it forward again. The blonde let out a grunt of effort as the hand came to a sudden halt again “SURELY THIS IS A SIGN OF MY EVENTUAL TRIUMPH IF YOU HAVE ARRIVED!”

From the other side, the stone pillar that was supporting the hand suddenly cracked. Molecule Man grunted as well as the cracks quickly mended themselves. “I never believed in my lifetime,” he deadpanned, “that I would be so happy to herald the arrival of the Fantastic Four.”

“The feeling is mutual, Owen.” And that came from the world's smartest man as he stretched his way out of the aircar. “Sue, can you hold that barrier?”

“Not without help,” Susan Storm told her husband, Reed Richards.

“Ben, help out Susan,” Mr. Fantastic called out. He was already on his way, running towards me, the only time in my life I'd be happy to see the Thing coming my way. “Johnny, assist Molecule Man!”

“I can't believe it,” the young man said, before his entire body burst into flames. “FLAME ON,” he cried as he shot into the air towards the stone pillar.

“Now,” Mr. Fantastic said as the Thing's hands braced the invisible wall that the Invisible Woman had put up, standing just scant feet behind me, and the Human Torch joined Wonder Man and Thor, “can someone explain to me what is going on?

“To put it in terms you would understand, Richards,” the voice of the Wizard called, “this is Dormammu. He is magic's counterpart to Galactus, and he was the driving force behind the plague that swept the world.”

“That much I know,” Mr. Fantastic replied to his long-time foe.

“Then this is what you don't know,” the Wizard shot back. “Herman Schultz is apparently doing something that Dormammu doesn't want him to do, and we're trying to stop him!”

“Herman Schultz? But...what could he possibly do to hurt Dormammu?”

“NOTHING, RICHARDS. BECAUSE I'M GOING TO KILL HERMAN SCHULTZ!” The stone pillar cracked again, and I heard the Thing grunt as he pushed back against the barrier, and I urged the Darkhold to hurry it up.

_Come on, come on! Do you really want to be squished into the ground?_

_...we are searching, Herman...patience..._

_We don't have time for patience!_

“CEASE YOUR MECHINATIONS, HERMAN! YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY DEFEAT ME,” Dormammu called.

“If you're that worried, Dormammu, then that's all the more reason to let the Shocker do whatever it is he's doing! Wizard, I need you to get all the strong heroes over here! Don't let Dormammu crush Schultz!”

“It is only because the fate of the entire world hangs in the balance, Richards, that I am entertaining one of your orders!” The Wizard flew off towards the back of Dormammu, where the heroes and villains who had been trying to help topple the Dread Lord when he was standing now mulled about, confused at what to do next. I could hear the Wizard begin to bark orders, and after a few seconds, the loud agreements of the the group as they made their way towards where I was sitting on the ground, cross-legged.

Make no mistake, I was trying my best not to shake. Above me, several people were now adding their strength to Molecule Man's stone hand as it pinned one of Dormammu's hands in place. To one side, a rush of people streamed past, leaning against a wall no one could see, but kept Dormammu's hand from slamming into me and swatting me aside. And there I was, arguing with a book to go freaking' faster.

I didn't have time to be scared. I should have been in the State of Catatonia, because a god was actively trying to kill me, and a mix of villains I had worked with, villains I had fought with, and heroes who had arrested me were doing everything they could to keep me alive. The whole thing would have been surreal if it wasn't so damn terrifying. I hoped my therapist was alive after all was said and done, because I was going to crack open my personal stash of cash and offer her a whole bunch of money for thirty minutes on the couch. But that's the only time my mind wandered. No self-introspection, no monologuing, no worrying about my reputation or how over my head I was.

“YOU ONLY DELAY THE INVETIABLE! LET HERMAN SCHULTZ DIE, AND I MAY YET OFFER THIS PLANET A SWIFT DEATH!”

_Any luck?_

_...focus..._

_Focus? On what?_

_...focus on one of them...they are together...focus on one of them..._

I put a hand flat on the book. All around me, the sounds of chaotic battle, of straining muscles and laser blasts and screams and boasts and taunts, it all slowly faded away.

_...focus on one of them..._

_Which one of them?_

_...focus on one of them..._

Well, if I got squished while trying to do this, at least I probably wouldn't know it.

_Alright. How do I focus?_

_...think of one of them...of the emotions that tether you together..._

_Huh. Ain't really a person of emotion here._

_...you know not yourself, Herman Schultz...you plan, you plot, you do your best to balance your duals natures of being a criminal and being upstanding...one allows you to use me...the other allows you to save the world...emotion is a part of you...embrace it..._

_Embrace what? Hope for Doctor Strange? Hate for Spider-Man? Friendship for Boomerang?_

_...choose one...choose one..._

I made my choice.

_Fine. I choose hope._

_...hope is weak...hope is fleeting..._

_Hate would lead me down a dark path. Friendship went out the window the minute the Wizard took an order from Mr. Fantastic. Hope. That's what we all need right now. Hope that the one guy who can solve this problem can show up. Some of us hate. Some of us have friendship. We all have hope._

_...how sentimental..._

_Well, welcome to the human race. We're all about those thin slivers of hope. The hope of the big promotion, the hope that cute girl will talk to us, the hope that you can make that red light, and the hope that the Sorcerer Supreme's going to show up and save the damn day. Hope. That's what you got. Do it._

_...we can not wait to be free of you..._

_Mutual feelings here, pal. Sooner you get them back here, the sooner this all ends._

I closed my eyes. I had no clue if it helped.

_Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope._

_...that does not help us..._

_You said to focus on hope._

_...focus quietly_

Doctor Strange. Beating Dormammu. Saving the world. Bringing Fred back. Hell, even bringing Spider-Man back. Right now, the world needed heroes, even someone as annoying as him. Doctor Strange would bring them all back when he came back. He'd help defeat Dormammu and make the world safe again.

_shocker_

I felt an eyebrow raise in confusion. It wasn't the Darkhold's soft whispers that had spoken.

_...the tether has been made, Herman..._

_herman!? herman!_

_Yeah...yeah! Yeah, it's Herman!_ The whisper were very faint, barely audible over the sounds of combat I was doing my best to regulate to the background. I had to focus completely on the quiet voice, ignoring the efforts of everyone else around me to keep me from getting crushed.

_herman! this is doctor strange! can you hear me?_

_Yeah! Oh, thank God...you're coming in really faint, though! Are Spider-Man and Boomerang there with you?_

_yes, but there's a lot of mystical static!_

_Hey, can you do something here? Increase the volume or cut down on the static?_

_...blood..._

_herman, who is the other voice? i can barely hear them._

_It's the Darkhold. Ms. Marvel and I got your last message and..._

_you found the darkhold? great! whatever you do, herman, do not give it any blood!_

_...um...too late..._

_what? what did you do, herman?_

_Look, we don't have a lot of time here, so let me explain...no, that'll take too long! Let me sum up! We got the Darkhold back from Baron Mordo and I gave it some of my blood to use it to stop the dead from coming back to life. And now, Dormammu's trying to squash me like a bug because I'm using the Darkhold to contact you and find a way to bring you back!_

_herman, you are not a magician! you have no reason to use that book! you are not trained for it!_

_Tell me something I don't know, Doctor!_

_herman, you have to listen to me, very very carefully. focus through the static and listen. first, do not give the darkhold anymore blood! you have already bonded yourself to the book as its master, and that is a very bad thing!_

_No more blood. On it._

_second, dormammu came through to our world. is he still near the portal that brought him there?_

_Yeah! I'd say...maybe two hundred feet away. The Avengers and a whole bunch of other supers are here fighting him._

_that is good. whoever is in charge, tell them to start trying to force dormammu towards the portal. we will change it from this end from an exit portal to an entrance portal. once dormammu is forced through, you, and only you, must throw the darkhold through the portal. that will seal the portal and deny dormammu and the darkhold entrance to this plane, and the threat should be ended once and for all._

_Ok...I think I got it._

_herman, it must be you who throws the book. this can not be stressed enough. the portal leads to a nexus of numerous dimensions and realities, constantly shifting and changing every instant. by banishing them from this plane separately, we can send them to different dimensions and make sure they never come in contact with each other again. you are the master of the darkhold for the moment, and you must be the one who severs the connection by willingly banishing him from this dimension, or else the darkhold will find its way back and act as a beacon to pull dormammu back. and if the darkhold is thrown first, dormammu can lock in upon it once he is pushed through the portal, and the combination of dormammu and the darkhold can be classified as a world-ender. and we've had enough of those this week._

_Yeah. Ok. No pressure. Got it._

_herman. can you do this?_

_We don't have a choice, do we? We can do it, Doctor Strange. We can end this and get these two things off our planet._

_good. you will know when the portal shifts. dormammu must go first, and then the darkhold. and you must be the one who throws it. i can not stress this enough, herman._

_Just handle your end, Doctor Strange. And make sure to save something to bring you three home. Fred still owes me for all the damn beer he drank._

I snapped the Darkhold shut, instantly severing the connection. The sounds of combat immediately slammed into me again. To one side, I could hear the gravelly voices of the Thing and Ares as they urged everyone to keep the Invisible Woman's barrier upright. On the other side, up in the air, Thor, Wonder Man, and several other heroes had their back under the stone hand that was keeping Dormammu pinned in place.

“YOUR EFFORTS, HERMAN, ARE IN VEIN!” The Dread Lord pulled his hand away, and in standing on his feet, ripped the stone hand from the ground. “THE TIME IS RIPE,” he called out as the bits of rock fell back down to the Earth. “MY POWERS HAVE ALMOST RETURNED! NOTHING ANY OF YOU CRETINS CAN DO WILL MATTER! YOU HAVE ALREADY LOST!” Standing up and brushing the dirt from the back of my legs, I watched as Dormammu raised his hands up to the sky. Bolts of crimson fire began to gather in his hands as he cried out. “THIS WORLD, AND ALL UPON IT, BELONG TO DORMAMMU!”

“Ok, everyone,” I called out, my voice holding more confidence than the situation called for, “Dormammu's got it all wrong. He's about to lose, and lose hard.”

“OH, REALLY?” His gaze fell upon me again. “HUMOR ME, HERMAN, SINCE, FROM WHAT I'VE GATHERED, YOU'RE THIS WORLD'S EXPERT ON LOSING.”

Being called a loser by a god...turns out, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would have. “Guess who I just had a long talk with,” I said, telling Dormammu and making sure the heroes gathered around me heard my words. “Doctor Strange. And he told me exactly how to beat you.”

It took a second for Dormammu to respond. “HAH! DOCTOR STRANGE,” he finally said, “ISN'T ON THIS PLANE ANYMORE! THERE IS NOTHING HE CAN DO TO INFLUENCE CURRENT EVENTS!”

“Sorry,” I said. Here I was, arguing with a god like I was arguing with Spider-Man in the middle of a heist, and it didn't feel weird at all. “You're wrong. Absolutely wrong.”

“NAME ONE THING. NAME ONE THING DOCTOR STRANGE CAN DO TO STOP MY CONQUEST AND CONSUMPTION OF THIS WORLD!”

“Well, for starters, that portal behind you is about to go from 'blow' to 'suck.'”

I've said it before, and I said it again. It's really the little things that make life worth living. And seeing a god's face take on that perfect “oh, crap” look?

“NO...NO! I WILL NOT BE DENIED! I WILL...”

The changed happened so suddenly, if it wasn't for the silver chains erupting from the portal, I wouldn't have noticed it for at least a couple of seconds. The links of magical energy wrapped around Dormammu's waist, sliding around each other to forge a tight bond. Immediately, his hands dropped down to his waist. “UNLEASH ME, YOU...”

He staggered back. Just a few feet. Towards the silver portal. Before, the magical doorway had been a blood red, and tendrils had waved out of its edges. It was how the Grim Reaper, and later Dormammu, had forced their way into Central Park. Now, the portal was a bright, shining silver, and the tendrils were on the inner side of the portal now, flapping harshly as the portal slowly turned into a vacuum cleaner, aiming to suck Dormammu the hell off this planet.

“NO, STRANGE! I WILL NOT BE DENIED MY FINAL VICTORY! NOT EVEN THE CHAINS OF OSHTUR WILL BIND ME...”

The God of Thunder slammed into Dormammu's chest, Mjolnir leading the way. “We will drive you from this world, Dread Lord, and you will know that this planet is defended!”

“AWAY, VERMIN!” Dormammu smacked as Thor, his fist tinged with red lightning, but Thor managed to swoop away. “I WILL...”

It was the Wizard who followed up, the beams from his Wonder Gloves tearing into Dormammu's torso. “Your magic is not welcome here, demon! Science will defeat you!” The chains tightened as the beams hit Dormammu, and he staggered backwards again.

“Do not stand fast!” Ares, his battle axe in hand, charged forward, taking the lead as his voice boomed across the park. “Hit this creature with every ounce of strength in your beings, drive him through that portal, and bind him from this very world!”

“You heard the man, people!” Right on Ares' heels, that was Captain America, who was keeping right up with the God of War. “Doctor Strange gave us the tools, let's finish the job!”

It wasn't Ares or Captain American who got to Dormammu first, however. A high pressure jet of water shot between them, smacking into Dormammu's ankle as the chains yanked on him again. “Come on, you sons of bitches,” Hydro-Man screamed out, “do you want to live forever?”

“First Speed Demon, then freaking' Hydro-Man stole my lines! At this rate,” the Human Torch said as he scorched overhead, “ I'm going to be reduced to crying out...”

“By your powers combined,” the voice of Deadpool cried as he leveled his assault rifle at Dormammu, “I am CAPTAIN PLANET!”

“Son of a bitch,” the Human Torch cried before he laid into the Dread Lord.

The chains were tight around his waist, a straight line of shaking links reaching back to the portal. Dormammu's hands yanked and pulled at the chains as everyone poured everything that had into him, shoving at his feet, blasting his chest, and doing every single thing they could to push him back towards the waiting portal. “UNHAND ME,” Dormammu cried loudly. “THIS CAN NOT STAND!”

“Herman!” I turned my head to see Mr. Fantastic standing next to me. I was keeping my ass well away from Dormammu, just in case the bastard got the power to start blasting everyone in sight. “What happens once Dormammu gets pushed through the portal?”

“According to Doctor Strange,” I shouted back, “I throw this book through the portal after him, and the portal slams shut, and that's all she wrote for the zombie plague! But we gotta get Dormammu through first!”

“UGH!” Dormammu, with a grunt of effort, snapped the chains around his waist. The broken links fell to the side as he flexed his hands. “AND NOW, YOU MISERABLE...”

The chains snapped back into the air. The links shot in front of Dormammu, and the broken metals reforged itself, forming the complete chain again. This time, though, Dormammu caught the chain as it tried to wrap itself around him, catching it at chest level. His massive arms flexed as he strained to free himself.

“We have this! Come on, just keeping pouring it on!” Ms. Marvel was double fisting, beams from both hands carving across Dormammu's wrist to try and break his grip on the silver chains. Everyone was working together. Iron Man and the Living Laser. Speed Demon and Joystick. Ares and Thor. The Wizard and the Human Torch. Whirlwind and Captain America. It was a hell of a sight. And they were winning. They were pushing Dormammu back, with the aid of the chains pulling on him.

“We're going to do this,” I called out to Mr. Fantastic. “We're actually going to pull this off!”

“Don't get cocky, Herman! There are still things that can go wrong!”

“Damn it, let me be the optimist for once,” I responded.

One hundred feet. Seventy five feet. Fifty feet. Forty feet. They were pushing and shoving, finding the reserves of strength that had enabled each and every one of them to put aside their differences and survive the zombie apocalypse, to make it through this week, and asking those reserves to give them one more push, one more jolt of energy, one last effort to close the damn book on this week and make Earth safe again.

Thirty feet. Twenty feet.

And Dormammu's hands flared crimson.

“ENOUGH!” His hands swept downwards, cutting through the silver chains like a hot knife through butter, and stomping on the hope in my heart at the very same instant. “THIS ENDS!” Dormammu's hands shot forward, and a spray of crimson energy engulfed everyone near him, fliers and ground pounders alike. I had to shield my eyes as the light burned into my retinas, the last thing I saw was Wonder Man and Thor plunging through the ground.

“TOO LATE! TOO LATE, STEPHEN STRANGE,” Dormammu bellowed. “TOO LATE, HERMAN SCHULTZ! TOO LATE, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!” His hands exploded as he shot crimson energy into the night sky. “ALREADY IT BEGINS! THIS WORLD, AND YOUR LIFE ENERGY, ARE...”

He shot from the sky in a blaze of yellow. One moment, the air was clear as the fliers impacted the ground from Dormammu's attack. The next, a flash of energy streaked towards Dormammu's chest, and the sound of the impact hit us before the sound of the figure breaking the sound barrier reached our ears from behind. Dormammu didn't just stagger. He was blown damn near off his feet as he got slammed just below the navel, doubling over even as he was lifted off his feet. As Dormammu flew backwards, the silver chains shot out from the portal, and snagged him around the waist a final time. “NO!” Those were Dormammu's last words on this planet as he was pulled through the silver portal. “THIS CAN NOT BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Like he was falling into a pool, the portal rippled violently as Dormammu hit back first. Doubled over like a jackknife, he disappeared into the portal, his screams of rage and frustration echoing across the Great Lawn.

Floating in mid-air, arms crossed over his chest, the Sentry's response was simple and direct. “I don't like zombies.”

“Herman,” Mr. Fantastic cried, “he's through! Throw the book!”

“On it!”

I was already charging towards the portal, the book tucked under my arm, when I heard two sounds. The first was the sound of a magnetic beam firing. The second was the sound of another magnetic beam firing, and the hot jackhammer slamming into the small of my back. I was propelled forward, the Darkhold popping out of my hands with what sounded like a relieved sigh and landing a few feet in front of me as the wind got knocked out of me, thanks to hitting the ground.

Groaning, I reached forward, trying to get my hands back on the Darkhold, when a red metal boot stepped down on my hand. I cried out softly in agony as the owner of the boot spoke.

“Thank you for all your assistance, Herman,” Norman Osborn said as he bent down and picked the Darkhold off the ground. “I'll take it from here.”

*****

“Osborn,” I croaked, trying to pull my hand free from under his boot, “what are you doing?”

“Making my name, Herman,” he replied simply. His suit's helmet was pulled back, his face exposed to the world. “The cameras will see me throwing this book into the portal, and when it closes, that will signal the end of the zombie plague. All the people watching will see that I was the one who sealed humanity's final victory. And with public opinion on my side, who knows how much power the willing masses will allow me to reign over them?”

“You can't...”

“Oh, I can. Watch me,” he proclaimed as he strode away, towards the portal.

I slowly managed to stand up. “You can't! Osborn,” I called after him, “I have to be the one to throw that book through! It has to be me!”

“Please, Herman,” he called over his shoulder. “Haven't you had enough of stealing the spotlight?”

Behind me, Mr. Fantastic was face down, unmoving on the ground. No one had noticed Osborn hitting me and him in the back because they were all watching the portal as it still swirled and shimmered. All eyes were on the portal, including Osborn's, as I tried to run after him. “Osborn, listen to me! Listen! Doctor Strange said I have to throw that book away! If I'm not the one who does it, that book will just find its way back to me, and Dormammu will lock onto the book and find his way back here! And this will all probably start again!

”And that just means, Herman, that I will have a chance to more definitively defeat the zombie plague, instead of having to scramble and dance to your tune time and time again. Now, leave me be, Herman...”

My blast hit him square in the back of his suit. He staggered forward a few steps, almost dropping to one knee. I kept walking, closing the distance between us. “Osborn, give me the damn book. I'm not going to let your ego damn this world when we're so close to saving it.”

The look on his face said it all. Annoyance. “And I'm not going to let a fifth-tier criminal like you interfere with my plans anymore! Walk away now, before I...”

“...try to kill me? You did that already, and it didn't catch.” I stopped five feet away, the silver portal shimmering in the distance. One glove pointed at Osborn's face, point-blank range. A level four would shred that glare off his face in a heartbeat. A level eight would shatter his skull. “Give me the book, Osborn. Or else...”

“...or else what, Herman?” He straightened up, staring at me with naked contempt. “You're going to kill me. You're not a killer. Never have been, and you will never have the courage to be. Even if it means saving the world. Now, if you don't mind, I have a date with destiny.”

He turned his back on me. And I blasted him again. Level four this time, square in his back. That almost knocked him down. The second blast did. “I won't kill you, Osborn, but damned if you don't think I won't beat you around like a red-headed stepchild.” Now, give me the...”

A line of webbing shot from the side suddenly wrapped itself around my wrist. The glove I was aiming at Osborn was yanked away, spinning me around as more webbing shot out. My vibro-smasher was covered in webbing, pinning my fingers in place. My other arm came up, trying to get in a blast at Osborn, but a strong hand grabbed my wrist. The thumb being driven into the pressure point on my wrist bone caused me to cry out, distracting me enough for whoever was grabbing me to put my arm in a hammerlock.

“Damn it, Herman,” the voice of Mac Gargan hissed beside me. “You just love getting yourself into stupid situations lately, don't you?”

Osborn didn't even brush the dirt off his power armor as he stood back up. “Bullseye, Venom, make sure the Shocker doesn't interfere. I have to go save the world.”

“On it, boss.” Bullseye's finger kept digging into my wrist, making me sag in the grip of the two villains, as Venom tore the air compressor from my back with his free hand. “Seriously, Schultz,” Bullseye proclaimed, “you just keep looking for new ways to die, don't you?”

Osborn was walking away, towards the portal, as I strained and pulled at the two men holding me in place. “Osborn! Damn it, Osborn! Don't do this!”

It had taken the sounds of combat and my screaming to grab everyone's attention away from the silver portal that Dormammu had been knocked through. They all turned to see the red-and-blue power armor of Norman Osborn striding towards the portal. In one hand, the Darkhold rest comfortably, not trying to jar itself loose or escape. It knew what was going to happen, and went along for the ride willingly. Everyone else slowly turned to see what was happening. What they saw was me struggling with Bullseye and Venom, screaming at Osborn, and the Darkhold in his hands.

“Osborn.” Captain America was now walking alongside him. “What's going on?”

“Apparently, the Shocker decided he wanted the moment of glory. When Dr. Richards offered to throw this book of magic away and seal the portal once and for all, the Shocker blasted him in the back and said no one else was going to do it but him. I think having the spotlight this past week has caused him to become deluded.” It all came out so smoothly, with perfect inflection, no trace of the lie evident. “I happened to come across the Shocker in the nick of time, and if you'll excuse me, Captain, I'm going to end this threat to our planet once and for all.”

“That...that doesn't sound like the Herman Schultz I've met, Osborn.” Captain America looked over his shoulder, towards where I was straining.

“Doctor Strange said I had to do it, Captain! Believe me! If I don't, Dormammu's just going to come waltzing back at full power, and then we're all screwed!”

“Osborn,” Captain America said as he stared at me, “we should talk this over...”

“And let this portal remain open any longer? No, Captain, this threat ends...” Osborn's stride suddenly came to a halt. In front of him, ten feet from the portal, massive arms crossed, two gods stood side-by-side. Ares simply stared at the smaller form of Osborn, while next to him, Thor was the one who spoke, his voice the distant sound of thunder.

“Osborn,” Thor said. “We should perhaps listen to Herman Schultz. If he's been in contact with Doctor Strange, it is his advice we should be abiding by.”

“Really?” Osborn's voice was calm and clear as he answered Thor. “You're going to take the word of a common criminal who said he talked to a magician over mine?” Thor's response was a simple nod, one motion, firm and resolute. “I see. So, on one side, a criminal who's defied every government order that's been mandated, and on the other side, the man who has run the government for the past week and done his part to keep humanity safe.”

“I see a man who has risked his life on the front lines.” That was Ares, who's blue eyes glowed from under his helmet down at Osborn. “When I see Herman Schultz, I see a soldier who has done his best to ensure no man was left behind. When I see Norman Osborn, I see a man who has stood above the battlefield, moving units and setting up logistics.”

Osborn turned to look at Ares. “Ares, you are the God of War. Surely, you know that one should listen to the general over the private.”

“I am the God of War. The generals and the admirals? They belong to my sister, Athena. The line soldiers, the rank and file? They belong to me. And I will listen to one who has seen combat as opposed to one who has been above the fray.” It was one step forward, and now Ares was towering over an unflinching Osborn. “Give the book to Herman Schultz, Osborn. Doctor Strange's missives aside, Schultz has earned the right to end this conflict and let the dead rest in peace once again.”

They were slowly gathering around Osborn now, a circle of heroes and villains. They all stared silently at Osborn, the stares of men and women such as Ms. Marvel, Mysterio, the Sentry, Doctor Octopus, saying more than any spoken word. Bullseye and Venom's grip on my arms never lessened, leaving me on the outside of the circle as Osborn slowly turned in place. “So, it's come down to this. Again. Each and every one of you would take the word of a common criminal who's never amounted to anything in his life over mine. It may have been the actions of Herman Schultz who brought you all together, but if it wasn't for my leadership and my tactics, none of...”

“...the citizens who you demanded be moved into central areas would have been put into harm's way,” Iron Man's voice rang out. “You don't seem to understand, Osborn. Moving everyone into one place concentrated the zombies in one place as well. We got lucky here in New York City because all the heroes were here. They got lucky in Denver because the villains you ordered arrested made a stand there. They didn't get lucky in Boston. In Chicago. In Houston. I'm more willing to take the word of Herman Schultz over yours at the moment, Osborn, because his actions have saved lives. Yours haven't.”

“Oh? And we should have listened to the generals who said, because we haven't touched upon our nuclear resources, we should drop bombs on the major cities?” Osborn shook his head in disgust. “I've done my best, and I will be the one to end this. Not a two-bit hack like Herman Schultz.”

Nothing like watching a villain slowly breakdown and reveal how screwed up he was. But we didn't have time for the big monologue. “Hey, Bullseye,” I called out. “Your bones are laced with metal, right?”

“Adamantium,” the assassin replied with a grin. “With just a bit of vibranium for good measure.”

“Right. You know why it's called vibranium, right?”

My thumbs jammed down on the triggers of my vibro-smashers. The blast that smacked into Bullseye resonated through his skin, past his muscles, and all along the metal that ran along his bones and spine. It was like Bullseye had been smacked with a giant gong, and I could make out his body vibrating slightly as he fell backwards, cursing in agony through gritted teeth as hell's bells rang in his head.

On the other side, Venom's webbing has caught my thumb against the trigger when he had shot me. The blast tore through the webbing like it was paper. When it hit Venom, the vibrating air rippled along his black skin. The symbiote that covered his body shrieked in pain, pulling back slightly and revealing the muscular skin of Gargan underneath. He staggered away, screaming in pain.

The second my arms were loose, I was off and running.

“Well, I'm the one who set this whole thing in motion, and...” Osborn was in mid-rant as I passed between Black Mamba and the Thing, charging at Osborn in the center of the circle. I didn't even think to blast Osborn. I simply ran at him, leaping through the air to tackle the bastard...

...and slamming into his power armor shoulder first.

I bounced off of him, grimacing as pain raced through my shoulder. Damn it.

Osborn turned to look at me. One eyebrow raised into the air as he realized who had hit him. “You. You won't deny me, Herman. This triumph is mine, and mine alone!” He suddenly darted forward, passing between Ares and Thor, who just barely managed to miss grabbing him. “This plague ends now,” he screamed, a high-pitch cry of triumph as he pulled his arm back to dramatically hurl the Darkhold through the silver portal...

This time, I didn't go for Osborn. My hands reached out for the Darkhold clutched in his grip. An intense, stabbing warmth shot through my blood as I closed my fingers on the book, and its harsh whispers, demanding I release it, let it go, let it be free. Not today, baby. Not today.

“Ugh! Let go of the book, you cretin!” Osborn's power-armor assisted punch should have broke my jaw. It definitely knocked a tooth loose, the damn thing barely staying in its socket as he pulled at the Darkhold. I had both hands on the binding, closing it shut, refusing to let go.

“Osborn, you idiot, this is what I'm supposed to! I have to do this!”

We stood in place, just feet from the portal. Osborn punched me with his free hand, but there was no way I could let go. I just couldn't. I wouldn't. Everything about this past week. The civilians in the 7-11. The kids in the apartment building. Electro. Vulture. The Punisher. The Grim Reaper. Dormammu. Fred. Aleksei. It was simple. I wasn't going to lose.

Out of the corner of my eye, the Avengers were moving towards the fray. With their help, Osborn could easily be defeated...and the Darkhold could pop loose in the confusion, bouncing into the portal, and then who knows what the hell could happen.

I didn't know much about the laws of magic. All I knew was I had to make sure the Darkhold went through the portal. It had to be me. No one else. Ok, fine. I worked pretty damn well when the rules and situation are a bit fuzzy.

I wrapped one arm around the Darkhold, pulling myself closer to Osborn, who also refused to let go. My other hand pointed down at the ground. My thumb went to the trigger of my vibro-smasher.

_Hey, Darkhold. Get off my planet!_

At such a short range, I probably shouldn't have used a level five. But I had to be sure. I had to make absolutely short this was going to work.

The large blast smacked into the ground. The Avengers were knocked backwards, falling to the ground as the pressure wave washed over them. And the same pressure wave knocked me and Norman Osborn off our feet, into the air...

...and through the portal right behind us.

One moment, I was in Central Park at night.

The next moment, I was in Times Square at noon.

It happened instantly, the grass under my feet becoming the asphalt my back cracked against as I landed. My mind was trying to deal with the sudden shift of time and location, as the sun shone down upon me and One Times Square towered over me.

Groaning, I sat up, holding the back of my head. Ok. I was still in New York. That was a good sign, right? Then I noticed something extremely out of the ordinary.

The electronic billboards and news ticker, the world famous trademarks of One Times Square, were dark.

Slowly, I pushed myself up to my feet, taking in the scene around me. It definitely was Times Square, the New Yorker in me confirming it. But instead of being lit up like a Christmas tree, even in the middle of the day, instead everything was trashed. The print billboards flapped lightly in the breeze as they had begun to peel away from their backing. All of the electronic billboards were dark, and several of them were broken as well. Cars were scattered across the intersection. Some of them were parked in neat rows, waiting at the traffic lights, but several had crashed through the front windows of the shops and restaurants lining the street, and a few had been overturned onto their roofs. It looked like a war had been fought here in Times Square. But, from where I was standing, nothing was on fire. Nothing smoldered. And the air was silent and still, no sounds of gunfire or emergency services reaching my ears.

And, maybe most important, I couldn't hear any moaning or groaning.

I was coming to grips with all the abandoned ambiance in when I remembered. “Crap. The Darkhold!” I immediately looked around, my eyes scanning the ground near me. Aside from the overturned car that was a few feet away from me, I didn't see the book of magic anywhere. Whether or not that was a good thing, I didn't know.

Ok, Herman. First things first, and that thing is finding out where the hell you are. Or when. Did you just get tossed out of Central Park into Times Square? Or did you someone get tossed into another freaking' dimension. Carefully, I crossed Times Square towards an abandoned newspaper kiosk. The newspapers were the same: New York Times, New York Post, Financial Times, USA Today. The headlines on each were the standard run-of-the-mill fluff that had dominated the papers in the days before the zombie uprising. No huge font headlines proclaiming “THE DEAD WALK,” or any other notice of impending doom. No notices of the government moving individuals into the cities, and no guidelines of proper corpse disposal. Which means, whatever happened here, had happened fast. Plague? Virus?

That would be just my luck, wouldn't it. “Congratulations, Herman,” I muttered under my breath. “You saved the world by helping banish Dormammu and the Darkhold from Earth. And as your reward...well, have you ever seen 'The Stand?'”

The old instinct of not shouting 'hello' at the top of my lungs bubbled up to the surface. Forget the stand, I might have ended up in the middle of 'I Am Legend' or 'The Omega Man.' And yeah, I know it was daytime, but my analogy still stands. Ok, ok, Herman, what you need to do first is find someone else. With the communicator in my mask still broken, I needed a cell phone. Or, even better, the radio from that NYPD cop car over there.

I was walking towards the cop car when the overturned car next to me exploded, flinging me sideways as a ball of fire rose into the clear sky. I landed on my shoulder and rolled through, the broken asphalt biting into my back before I managed to end up on my knees. The car was engulfed in flames, the sounds of burning metal the only noise in Times Square.

Save for the low-pitched growl of rocket boots. He banked around the plume of smoke, the palms of his hands glowing a bright orange. I quickly leaped to my feet and turned to run. The magnetic beams carved gashes into the asphalt right after I began to sprint away. I didn't look behind me, my focus squarely on the broken window of the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company that was rapidly drawing closer. The rapid-fire sound of energy blasts slamming into the asphalt pushed me to move faster. The beams followed me all the way to the sidewalk outside the restaurant. I dove forward, throwing myself inside the restaurant as the energy beams destroyed the bottom portion of the window. I managed to pull myself behind a waitress' station, panting from the sudden exertion as I rested against the wooden podium. Throughout the restaurant, tables were overturned, chairs had been kicked over, and plates and silverware were scattered, as if whatever apocalypse had ripped through the city had hit during the dinner rush.

The sound of rocket boots in flight came through the window, and I heard an angry voice call out. “You, Herman Schultz! You will receive the full brunt of my anger for ruining all my plans!”

“Well,” I called out, “if you had just let me throw...”

The top of the waitress' station exploded, the magnetic beam shooting through the restaurant before cutting a hole in the kitchen door. I scampered away as the debris flew through the air, getting underneath a table as the voice screamed again.

“All my plans, all my schemes, ruined by a common thug, all so you could be loved by everyone! Well, guess what, Herman? There's no one else! I've scanned the city, and you and I are the only two human beings in New York!” Another magnetic beam tore through the ruined restaurant as Norman Osborn's voice gained more pitch. “You threw us through the portal onto a dead world, Herman, and with no witnesses, I fully intend on making this city your tomb!”

Yeah, blame me because your ass wouldn't...

The familiar hissing sound reached my ears. “Oh, crap,” I exclaimed before I pushed up, flipping the table on its edge. The bar was right in front of me, and I managed to dive behind it, sending wine glasses and beer bottles flying before the heat seeking missile shredded the table, damn near removing it from existence

So, let's count the score. I'm apparently on another world that's experienced its own apocalypse, with no clue on how to get home. And I'm being hunted by Norman Osborn, who's wearing a suit of power armor, and with no one watching, is probably about five seconds away from going Green Goblin on my ass.

This day can't get any worse, I thought as I pulled my mask back over my face.

On the floor behind the bar, a glass laid shattered, and the matchbooks it had held were strewn across the floor. I pocketed one before, carefully, I crawled towards the end of the bar. The kitchen door swung slowly on its hinge, the edges of the hole Osborn had blasted it in still smoldering. Another hissing sound came from behind me. I dove forward, making it about halfway through the doorway into the kitchen before the missile blew up the bar. The bottles of alcohol caught fire, blue and orange flames engulfing the bar as I pulled myself into the kitchen. Over the sound of crackling flames, a rapid series soft thuds impacted the wall, probably from a chain gun built into Osborn's armor.

I kept low, pulling my way through the darkened kitchen, breaking down my current situation as I carefully stepped around a pile of pots and pans scattered on the tile floor. I couldn't run away and try to hide. Osborn could just scan the city and track me down again. So, the only option available to me was to fight. Now, I should be scared. I should be nervous, and deep down inside, I was. But I had beaten Electro. I had beaten the Vulture. I had beaten the Rhino. I had helped defeat Dormammu. Sure, Norman Osborn, either as the Green Goblin or in this Iron Patriot get-up, was the kind of villain bad guys talked about over bottles of beer, the guy we'd work for while constantly wondering when the hell he was going to snap. But I had beaten a human dynamo and a walking tank.

Norman Osborn was just a man in a suit of power armor.

The gunfire had faded away, but in its place came the sound of metal boots trouncing across the floor of the Bubba Gump Shrimp company. “Herman,” Osborn's voice called out, “you know you can't hide, and you can't run. If you just step out and face me like a man, I'll end it quick.”

Yeah, right. I glanced over at the stoves lining one wall of the kitchen. The pilot lights were all out. I darted across the floor, giving a damn about noise right now. Large pots and several pans, caked with burned food, were scattered on the burners. Once I hit the stove, I turned all the burners on, full blast. No flames ignited, but the faint hissing noise of natural gas was music to my ears. The ovens were next. I threw open the doors and turned them on. Without electricity, I couldn't figure out if the gas lines were feeding into the ovens, but maybe I'd get lucky. But I need time for the kitchen to fill up, for the air to get saturated with gas.

“Don't hide, Herman,” I heard Osborn taunt as I made my move, thumbs holding my triggers down half-way “Just imagine what everyone...”

I kicked the kitchen door open. Osborn's head whipped around as I let out twin level five blasts. The blast wave whipped the flames of the burning bar and shredded whatever bits of fake wood remained standing, ripping the nautical-themed flare off the walls in the process. I didn't know if I caught Osborn or not, because as the door swung shut, I was diving to the side. The chain gun's bullets almost tore the door from its hinges, turning it into sawdust and splinters falling towards the ground. The line of bullets moved across the wall. I covered my head, flat on my stomach, as the large caliber rounds passed over me and embedded themselves in the back wall.

When only the sound of the chain gun cooling down could be heard, I was immediately back on my feet. The twins level threes blew a hole through the bullet-weakened wall, and I blindly fired two level fives in a wide spread before spinning around and diving over the island counter. As I dove, the wall behind me was vaporized as Osborn's gun poured round after round into where it thought I would be cowering. As I slammed into the tile floor, scattering the pots and pans as they bit into my stomach, I could detect the faint small of gas. Just a little more time, I decided. I rolled onto my back, gloves aimed at the doorway, and sent two level fours out into the restaurant, tearing the doorway out of the damn foundation. The response from Osborn was more bullets ripping above my head as I rolled over and belly crawled towards the back of the kitchen.

By the time I reached the large walk-in coolers, the gunfire had stopped, leaving only the actual fire still blazing where the bar had once stood. The smell of gas was prevalent now, even back here. To one side, sunlight came through the emergency door, which had been ripped off its hinges, leading to the alley behind the restaurant. And on a related note, one of the doors to what had once been a walk-in freezer was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, blocking the way back to the manager's office.

Metal footsteps came towards the kitchen. I ducked into the small hallway leading towards the alley, fingers fumbling for the matchbook. “I outgun you, Herman. I'm smarter than you. I'm faster than you. I've already thought of ten ways to flay your alive while your still breathing carcass is hanging from the Brooklyn Bridge. What do you have that could possibly beat me?”

Deep breath. The match flared to life from the carbon strip, and as soon as the flame caught, I hurled it into the kitchen, bracing for the explosion as the burning match arced through the air...

A short burst from the chain gun, and the match disintegrated in mid-air, snuffing the flames. “Seriously, Herman? You were going to fill the kitchen with gas and blow me up? That was your grand plan? This is low, even for a common criminal like you. A mastermind like myself will never fall for such a simple trick.”

“Yeah,” I called out. “One match wouldn't catch a genius like you, Norman.” The next match ignited all of the matches in the book, the air filling with sulfur as I aimed low. “So let's see how you handle a whole bunch!” This time, I aimed low, and the burning matchbook slid under one of the island counters. As the shoulder-mounted chain gun tracked the matchbook, my other hand took aim at the section of gas line visible between the soup tray and the oven. The gun was tracking back in my direction as the the blast ripped a hole in the gas line. I could feel the bullets whip past my ear as I ducked back into the hallway, scampering towards the open door leading to the alley...

The sound of metal being torn from the floor reached my ears just before the kitchen exploded. The hallway turned oranges as intense heat raced up my back, and a strong hand propelled me forward. The narrow hallway funneled the explosion like water through a high-pressure hose, shooting out through the door. I smacked into the opposite wall, just managing to brace myself with my hands. Secondary explosions were evident as I turned back to the doorway. The hall was engulfed in flames, spreading from floor to ceiling. There wasn't any doubt that Osborn was caught in the explosion. But did I do anything more than scratch the pain job?

The wall of the restaurant exploded as magnetic beams shot out from the kitchen. Answers THAT question.

I couldn't make it to either end of the alleyway without giving Osborn a clean shot at me. So, I did the unexpected. As Osborn's red-and-blue form, the paint job still perfect, crawled out of the burning rubble, I was charging him, hands forward. He turned to face me just as I hit him with two level fives at point blank-range. The first one tore the chain gun off his shoulder, while the second went off as I punched him in the chest, right on the white star emblazoned on his torso. My suit managed to absorb most of the backblast, and the heat from the kitchen was a pleasant warmth that couldn't compare to the warm feeling in my heart as Osborn went flying backwards, caught off-guard from my kamikaze attack. Keep it up, Herman. Even before he landed, I was letting off another level five, almost juggling him as he bounced off a nearby wall.

“Herman, each attack,” he hissed through his metal mask, “each assault you lay upon me, is...”

“Just shut up,” I told him as another level five sent him onto the sidewalk just outside the restaurant we had just ruined. My gauntlet was flashing a warning about power consumption, and I lifted my other one, keeping it pointed at Osborn as he climbed back to his feet, using the cop car for leverage. The center of his suit was crumpled from where I had punched him. “I'm not interested in your taunts, in your boasts, in your threats. You want to kill me? Well, Osborn, I owe you a whole bunch of hurt. Not for trying to kill me. But for killing Aleksei. I told you we were going to have a little talk about what you did to my best friend.”

“Oh? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry, Herman. Here. How about I give you a car to make it up to you!” The hand on the cop car clenched, crushing the metal panels on the door and giving him a damn good grip. With one arm, he lifted the car into the air, holding it overhead for a moment before swinging it at me. I dove to one side, slamming into the side of a pickup truck as Osborn drove the cop car into the sidewalk grill-first. Before I could fire off a blast, Osborn swung around, cocking the cop car over his shoulder to hurl it at me. I ducked down and slid underneath the pick up truck as Osborn drove the car into its side, pushing it sideways as I managed to slither out the other side.

“Don't like the car, Herman? How about I offer you a pick up truck too!” The pick up truck left the ground, held by the front bumper in Osborn's other hand. On my knees, I leaned backwards, dropping to the ground as he slammed the two vehicles together. The roof of the cop car and the passenger side door of the truck merged together just a foot above my face, and a loud squeal greeted me as Osborn pulled them back apart, expecting to see Herman Schultz as a fine jelly between two metal pieces of bread. Instead, he got a face full of level five, rocking his head backwards and causing him to drop the vehicles. I was on my feet, firing off another blast, when he fired a magnetic beam in my general direction. It caught the edge of my shoulder, a jackhammer blow that ripped away a large chunk of my suit.

As one hand gripped at my shoulder, I heard the familiar hissing sound. My other hand came up, firing a level two at a wide spread that caught the two missiles that Osborn had fired towards me. They exploded in mid-air, giving me time to dive away. I managed to squeeze under a Hummer that had been stuck at the stoplight, blocking Osborn's line of sight to me and giving me time to consider my options.

“I can just build a machine and go home, Herman.” Through the windows of the Hummer, I could see Osborn turning in place, scanning the wreckage of Times Square. The eyes of his power armor glowed blue, probably using some kind of radar or low-powered laser to search for me. “I can fly to the Baxter Building and break into Mr. Fantastic's laboratory. I'm sure he has some sort of dimensional teleporter that will see me safely home. I could leave you here, Herman, stranded and alone for the rest of your life. I wonder just how long it would take before despair set in and you slit your wrists, or overdosed on sleeping pills?”

No. Osborn wouldn't do that. Most villains always go the “there's no way he could have survived that” route and leave the superhero behind. And we all know, the superhero is never dead. Osborn's too smart for that. He'll kill me dead before leaving this world.

His gaze turned my way. I ducked behind the large tire of the Hummer, pulling my entire body behind the wheel. I could try running for another restaurant or shop, but blowing up the last one had barely scratched the Iron Patriot's paint job. It had taken a level five assisted punch to put a dent in him, and another level five to knock off his suit's chain gun...

...wait. My punches could barely scuff up Aleksei's suit of armor. Level fives were something the Rhino could have just shrugged off. This was power armor Norman freaking' Osborn had built. And you're telling me I could rough it up more than I could have roughed by Aleksei's suit? Either Osborn had a serious design flaw in his armor...or he just never took a guy like me into consideration when he designed and built that suit.

Sometimes, being underrated's underrated.

I was out of batteries, and I needed to make sure I had enough firepower. Every single bit of vibrating air I could force out of my gauntlets had to blow a hole in Osborn's armor. Which meant I had to get close. And really, I only had one shot to drop him. In melee range, he'd swat me around and probably snap my neck. I had to hit him on that star again, the same place I decked him last time, like cracking a coconut to get to the soft, easily explodable fruit underneath.

I stood up, stepping to my right, my vibro-smashers pressed flush against the metal sides of the black Hummer. My thumbs were held down, ready to instantly unleashed two simultaneous blasts. I watched, through the open windows, as Osborn kept turning in place. “I'll tell you what, Herman. If you show yourself now, I'll even let everyone back home, all the people who apparently loved so much to risk your life for, that you had some sort of inspirational and pithy set of last words before you shoved me back through the portal and saved my life.”

“Ok!” His head was whipping around as I called out. “Here's my last words. Catch!”

The Hummer flew sideways, tumbling end-over-end as I fired point blank level fives into its side. As it sailed through the air as Osborn, I was already running right behind it. If Osborn fired his magnetic beams at it, the Hummer would reverse course, coming right back at me and probably ripping my head off. Hell, I was a dead man anyway. It was worth the risk.

The Hummer stopped in mid-air, about five feet off the ground. I was right up on it as the large vehicle slowly lifted into the air, the servos in the arm of Osborn's power armor easily hold it above his head. Maybe he was about to say something sarcastic, some kind of taunt, but I didn't give him that chance. The second I had clearance, I sprinted forward, my fist cocked back, thumb on the trigger. Feet planted. Arm coming forward. Speed traded for accuracy. The Hummer was still being lifted as my fist slammed into the white star, the level five-blast firing at the same time.

The recoil blew my wrist backwards, snapping my arm like a wet towel. Osborn staggered backwards, the Hummer slipping from his grip. I was moving forward, my other hand already going for a quick level five jab right on his star. The Hummer crashed to the ground behind us as I landed another punch, sending him further backwards. The third punch didn't get a chance to land, however, as Osborn shoved me forward. My back slammed into the Hummer, stunning me for a second. A shower of bright blue sparks was coming from the crumpled chest of the Iron Patriot, falling to the ground in streams of shooting stars. No comment from Osborn, however, as he threw a punch, aimed right at my head. He telegraphed it, giving me plenty of time to move as his fist went into the crumpled roof of the Hummer. As he tried to yank it free, a quick level-five-left and a level-five-right, thrown from point blank range, caused more sparks to erupt from that star. Just like I had figured. The bright blue circle on Iron Man's armor was his power source, and the same held true for the Iron Patriot's suit. His hand pulled itself free, but I had dove forward, crawling under Osborn's legs to get free. The sparks felt warm on my suit's back as I leaped back to my feet, spinning around and waiting just a second for Osborn to turn around as well. Immediately, one more level-five, driving it with every single bit of force and leverage I could muster into the heart of the star.

This time, it wasn't a shower of sparks. It was a supernova. Osborn's chestplate exploded with an intense blue heat. The blast wave threatened to throw me backwards, but my hand was caught in Osborn's power source. The strain on my wrist was enormous, feeling like the whole thing was going to get ripped away from the rest of my arm. Everything around me was brightness as I pulled back my other hand. I may or may not have been screaming as I brought it forward, and the level five fired off right as it joined my other hand, directly frying whatever power source Osborn was using to power his armor.

That explosion? That one threw me backwards. The explosion damn near annihilated the power source, freeing both of my hands and leaving me perfectly capable of getting tossed across Times Square. I bounced off of the sidewalk, managing to land on my back. It sounded like a million reams of paper being ripped apart at once as I lifted my eyes. Streams of blue energy shot from Osborn's chest as he stood against the Hummer, shooting into the air and disappearing like ectoplasm.. It was already beginning to die down as I got to my feet, the light fading away under the noon sun. Osborn's head was bowed, a huge hole torn into the middle of his power armor, exposing his burned skin underneath. I could hear his panting coming through his speakers, an electric breathing that didn't stop me in the least as I ran across Times Square. He must have heard me coming, because he raised his head, exposing the front of his helmet to me right as I drove my fist into it. No blasts, because I was dry. Just a good old fashion right hand, my vibro-smasher leading the way.

“I told you were going to have a talk, Osborn,” I panted as the adrenaline wore off and my exertions caught up with me. “I told you. I...screw it. I got nothing witty to say. How about I just say I whipped your ass, and we'll leave it at that?”

Sparks dropped from the hole in his chest as his helmet slid back in sections. A thin trickle of blood ran from Osborn's noise, and crimson stained his lips. “How...” he muttered. “How did you hurt me? This suit was built to stand up to no less than Thor himself. I walked through fire with it...”

I pulled my mask over my face, letting Osborn see the tired look of victory I was wearing. “You built that thing to deal with guys like Thor, like the Hulk, like Iron Man. And I'm sure, in a fight, you'd give them a run for their money. But...” I raised my vibro-smasher into the air, inches from his face. “...you never, ever counted on having to fight me. Even in your most far-fetched scenarios, you didn't think you'd ever cross paths with me. And normally, we wouldn't have, Osborn. Fate shoved us together, though...and you just never planned on dealing with me.”

“Huh. It appears being underestimated is one of your superpowers, Schultz.” He looked down at the sparking power source. “You destroyed the arc reactor, Herman, and the backup power source. Right now, I'm wearing fifty pounds of lightweight armor. Without an electrical current, I might as well be wearing tissue paper. Congratulations. You've won.”

“Oh, you think this is over?” I grabbed his chin, and held his head in place as I spoke to him. “This isn't over. You tried to kill me, Osborn,” I hissed. “You had Petruski poison me and left me to die on the streets. You killed my best friend right in front of me. You almost sacrificed the entire world for a damn photo-op. And you said you had plans, schemes, grand designs for when this was all said and done. Give me one good reason...”

“...to let me live?” Even beaten up, Osborn's grin gave me pause. I stepped back, and he held his head high as he spoke to me. “You won't kill me, Herman. You're not a killer. You never have been, and you never will be. Oh, sure, you may be thinking of vigilante justice right now, but you won't find the courage for it. You always went for the payoffs, the bribes, hitting banks at the right time when guards were looking the other way and the tellers just handed over the cash. You worked so hard to maintain your reputation, and all I did was kill innocent civilians. And they were about to hand me control of SHIELD. Face it, Herman. It's because I can kill people, because I can end lives, that I will always be better and more respected then you.”

The anger, the frustration, the truth of that statement...never showed up. It never crossed my mind. “Yeah...well, I have my self-respect. And since we're the last two people on this planet, I can live with it. Goodbye...Norman.”

His eyes widened with surprise as I turned away from him. “Wait...that's it? That's the talk you wanted to have with me?”

“There's nothing more to say, is there?” I passed the overturned cop car, my feet crunching on the broken asphalt. “I won. You lost. I beat you...” I paused, a thought entering my head. “Yeah, Norman. I beat you. Just like I've beaten Spider-Man, I beat you. That's all the vindication I need, to know you're going to stew about being beaten by a two-bit blue collar criminal who took that pretty suit of power armor and turned it into a paperweight. That's victory, Norman. And it feels pretty damn good.”

“No...no! Don't you walk away from me!” Osborn struggled to pull himself away from the Hummer as I kept walking. “Scum like you doesn't walk away from Norman Osborn! You think you won now, but if you don't come back here and kill me, Herman, I will find you, and I...”

“...will just lose to me. Again,” I said, a smirk on my face that he couldn't see.

“Damn you, Herman! I promise, right now...”

I heard a familiar zipping sound, and then a voice both of us knew very well ringed out across Times Square.

“Osborn? I thought we had killed you already!”

“YOU! Get away from me, you damAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

My head whipped around as Osborn's scream tore through the air. He had been pinned back against the Hummer by a figure in a red-and-blue uniform. Osborn's arms were flailing as he cried out in agony, a banshee's screech that tore into my ears.

“HELP ME!” One arm reached out towards where I stood in shock. “HELP ME...HELP MEEEEEEE...”

I heard a combination of sound, of snapping, tearing, and ripping. The windows of the Hummer became covered with a spray of red blood, pulsing from the shoulder of Norman Osborn where his left arm had once been attached. His eyes wide with shock, Osborn slid down the side of the vehicle. His right arm swayed in mid-air, still reaching for me. The other figure was peeling Osborn's arm like a grape, and once a chunk of red metal hit the ground, I heard a loud slurping noise, mixed with a sigh of contentment.

I knew what was happening. I knew it exactly. But as my brain tried to work past the shock, another figure came into view, this one a leggy blonde in a skintight black uniform.

“Hey! Save some for me! Don't bogart all the meat!” Osborn gave off a final cry as the figure shoved her hands into the hole in his chestplate, pulling back large chunks of burned flesh. “Mmm...blackened. Just how I like it,” she cried as she shoved the meat into her mouth.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, taking a step backwards. Of course, as I did so, I somehow found the one can of Pepsi that someone had left in the middle of Times Square to knock over. Even over the sounds of chewing, the soft clink of the rolling can was like a gunshot.

Immediately, their heads whipped around. Blood dripped from their mouths, and even as they stared at me, they continued to chew on Osborn's flesh. Ms. Marvel's face was sunken, the edges of her mouth covered in crimson, and her teeth stained darkly. She simply stared at me, her eyes roaming my body in a very uncomfortable way, as the other person spoke.

“Shocker!” Spider-Man, his mask torn to pieces, and half the flesh on his jaw missing, grinned evilly, bits of meat falling from his mouth. “Now, I know we killed you! I remember you screaming like a little girl when we ripped your head off. But hey, if I'm wrong, that just means we get to eat you again!”

“Back off, wall-crawler!” A large shadow suddenly loomed over me. I spun around, my gloves empty, to see Giant-Man towering over Times Square, about as tall as Dormammu had been back in Central Park. “You and Blondie can have Osborn! The Shocker's ours!”

“Get him, boys!” At Giant-Man's feet, Wolverine, his skin torn apart, pointed his metal claws at me. “Whoever brings him down gets double rations!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

Captain America was missing the top half of his head as he ran at me, black brain fluid spilling over the sides of his skull.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”

Thor didn't even have Mjolnir, just a lead pipe with a rock on the end as he charged.

“OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

I aimed my gloves at the charging Captain America, hoping to get at least one good shot off, when a strong hand dug into the back of my neck, and I felt myself being yanked backwards. “No,” I screamed as the world flashed bright around me. “NO!”

*****

A strong hand smacked me across the face.

“Herman! For the love of God, man, stop bloody screaming! You're embarrassing yourself!”

The voice spoke in an Australian accent. Slowly, I opened one eye. The sky above me was black, with several plumes of smoke slowly dispersing and letting the moonlight shine through. And kneeling over me, Boomerang looked up at Doctor Strange.

“Did you have to slap him,” Doctor Strange asked.

“Hey, mate, it stopped him from screaming.”

“Where...oh, God, tell me I'm in Central Park, tell me Dormammu just got shoved through the portal, and tell me there's no more zombies,” I cried out, grabbing Boomerang by the front of his costume. “Tell me it's over!”

“Damn. Interdimensional travel does NOT agree with you, Herman.” Fred grabbed me by the wrist, and with Doctor Strange's help, got me back on my feet. “Yeah. It's over. Dormammu's gone. The corpses are corpses again. And you spent the last thirty seconds screaming like a little girl.”

“Are you ok, Herman?” Doctor Strange was examining me, pulling my mask back from my face and studying my features. “Boomerang is right. Interdimensional travel is not for the faint of heart.”

“Yeah,” I responded, letting him do his examination. “I'm fine. I...where I was wasn't the happiest place on Earth.”

“Understandable. And Norman Osborn? Was he there with you?”

After a second, I nodded. “Yeah. But...he's not coming back.” At the look on Strange's and Fred's face, I wave my hand. “I'll explain later, Doctor. The...citizens of where we ended up got their hands on him...wait. The Darkhold. Where I was, Doctor, I didn't see the damn thing when I landed...”

“It is fine, Herman. It and Dormammu have found their way to different planes of existence. And, much like you had requested, we found our way home as well.”

“Yeah,” Fred added, “even Spider-Man. Why you wanted that prick brought back, I'll never know,” he said with a grin. “I'm kidding.” Another grin. “Maybe.”

“Fred,” I said, “I'm about to do something really, really dumb. Sorry in advance.” With that, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling my friend into a tight hug. “I am so damn glad to see you,” I said in a quiet voice.

For a second, he returned the strong embrace. Then Fred remember he was Boomerang. “Yeah, yeah. I still owe you for all the beer I drank,” he joked as he let go of me. For a second, his face got somber. “Mate...about Aleksei...”

“Later,” I told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “We'll talk about it later, ok?”

“Herman.” A female voice called out. I turned from where Doctor Strange, Boomerang, and myself were standing. It was Ms. Marvel who had spoken. “Welcome back,” she said to me. “We were wondering if we were ever going to see you again.”

And next to her...he just had to crack wise. “Yeah. But I said not to worry,” Spider-Man quipped. “You're like a bad penny. You just keep turning up.”

“Do you know how many times I've said that about you?” I walked towards the wall-crawler of my own free will.

“A bunch, I imagine.” When I got to where he and Ms. Marvel stood, I could hear him take a deep breath, before putting out his hand. “Welcome back, Herman. I'm glad to see you're ok and in one piece.”

It took me a few seconds. The man I had hated most on this planet...no. That's past. That's all in the past. Brand new day. I extended my hand to take his. “Glad to see you back too, Spidey. And I mean that.”

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Fred said from behind us.

Now, Ms. Marvel put her hand out to me, and I easily took hers. “I'd give you that hug you wanted,” she told me in a very quiet voice, “but there's a bit of a crowd here, and I don't want to embarrass you.”

Indeed, they were all standing behind her. The Avengers. The Thunderbolts. The villains. The Fantastic Four. Nick Fury and several SHIELD soldiers, who were supervising transporting Electro into a police van. All of them (save the guys watching Electro) were staring at me. Most of them had smiles on their faces, or what passed for a smile in the case of Doctor Octopus.

“Everyone,” Mysterio cried out. “Let's hear it for Herman! Hip hip...”

“No!” I pointed at the center of attention, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “Don't, Mysterio. Seriously.”

He probably blinked in surprise under that fishbowl helmet of his. “Modesty? From the hero of the day?”

“No.” I walked past Ms. Marvel, hands on my hips. “Right now, I'm tired. I'm beat up. I'm exhausted. And so it each and every person here,” I said, scanning the entire crowd. “We did this. We all did this. Every single person here is why it's all over. Don't pin this all on me.”

Boomerang raised an eyebrow to my side as I continued. “I'm never one to call attention to myself. Never have been, never will be. Everything I did this past week was because it was the right thing to do. And the same goes for everyone here. You all stepped up to the plate because it was the right thing to do. As far as I'm concerned, everyone here's the damn hero, and that includes anyone out there who picked up a baseball bat and bashed a zombie's head in to save a stranger. If you survived, if you fought, if you lived? You're a hero.”

I should have had a big closer...but I really didn't. I just waved a hand at the crowd. “So...yeah. The party's over, and now it's time to clean up the mess. But first...”

“First, Schultz, you need to come with me.” Colonel Fury walked right up to where I was standing, an fresh cigar unlit in his mouth. “We need to debrief you...”

“Screw your debrief, Colonel.”

The cigar drooped slightly in his mouth. “Beg your pardon, Schultz?”

“Colonel, like I said. I'm tired. I'm sore. I'm exhausted. I just jury-rigged a whole bunch of magic spells. I got thrown through an interdimensional portal. I saw a world where I saw things no one needs to ever see. You want to talk to me at some point down the road, fine and dandy. But right now...I need a damn drink.” I turned to look at Fred. “You think the Bar With No Name's still open, Fred?”

“Hell, mate,” he replied with a huge grin, “if it ain't, we can bloody well open it ourselves.”

“Schultz...” Fury growled, under a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Let him go, Colonel,” Captain America told him. “The man deserves a drink. Let him have one. As long as you promise to get debriefed tomorrow, Herman.”

I nodded, but Fury's eyes narrowed anyway. “You know, I technically outrank you, Captain.” Captain America just shrugged. “Fine. Schultz, show up at SHIELD HQ the day after tomorrow, 0900. That'll give you enough time to sober the hell up. And bring me a bottle of damn whiskey.”

Hey, when Nick Fury tells you to bring him alcohol, you bring him alcohol. “Let's go, Fred,” I said, wrapping my arm around his shoulder so he could fly us both. “Let's get hammered.”

“You realize, it's not over.”

I shrugged in response. “Looks over to me.”

“You don't watch enough horror movies,” he shot back. “The killer always comes back for one last scare.”

“Not this time,” I told him.

Maxwell Dillon smirked behind the glass wall of his holding cell. “Keep on believing that, Herman. And when the dead start rising again, that comment will come back to bite you on the ass. Literally.”

“Maybe. But we'll be ready for it.”

“You better hope you are. You beat Dormammu. A guy like him has eternity to plan his revenge.”

“And what about you, Max? If Dormammu shows back up, would you go right back to work for him?”

Dillon raised a hand to the spartan holding cell. “It'll be better than this.” The cell was made entirely out of glass and plastic, not a single centimeter of metal to conduct electricity. It had been built to hold Magneto. Now, of course, the mutant mastermind was helping with relief efforts in Genosha, off the coast of Africa, and it was Electro who was locked up. Two shackles were wrapped around his ankles, one on each leg, and they steadily sucked electricity away from him, through wires surrounded by layers of non-conducting material. And there wasn't a single piece of metal withing fifty meters of his cell. Including anything I would normally have been wearing. All I had on me was a hospital gown, my boxers, and a plastic bag hanging from one hand.

“It's so strange to see you without your suit or your gloves,” Electro said. “Did the guards make you check them in before you came to see me.”

“Actually, Tony Stark and Henry Pym are studying my gloves.” And that wasn't a line of bullcrap. A few days after everything had calmed down, Tony Stark himself had called me. He had apparently seen my vibro-smashers in action and wanted a first-hand look at my weapons. I had visited him at Avengers Tower earlier today, with Henry Pym in attendance. As soon as I handed over the gauntlets and the blueprints to Stark, his eyes had gone wide with amazement, talking about how it was incredible that a person with no formal training or education could construct such an amazing pair of weapons.

And then he broke out a small Flathead screwdriver, popped open the battery compartment, and in the course of sixty seconds, increased my power reserves by fifty percent. That's why he's a billionaire, and I had been scrambling to pay rent month and and month out. Of course, New York City currently had a glut of empty apartment and condos, and I was in the process of moving to much...fancier digs.

“Look at you, Herman. Tony Stark himself studying your weapons and making them better without breaking a sweat. Even at the pinnacle of your success, there's someone who is effortlessly better than you are.”

“A man's got to know his limitations,” I told Max. “Besides, I'm having the smartest man in the world upgrading my equipment for free.”

“Yes...and what will you do with that equipment, Herman? There are no more zombies to kill. No more civilians to save. All the money and gold in the world is worthless without a functioning economy. You can just walk down to Best Buy and grab a stereo without paying for it. There really is no country for a man like you anymore, is there?”

I shrugged. “I have plans. But I didn't come here to discuss them with you.”

“Ah. Then why did you come here? I'm curious. I would imagine you would want to keep your distance from me at all costs.”

From the plastic bag, I pulled out a bottle of beer, one of the plastic kinds with a screw-on top that no self-respecting male would drink from unless he was at a football game. I opened up Electro's meal tray and shoved the bottle towards him. “I figured, you'd want to help me make a toast.”

“A toast?” He eyed the bottle carefully, reaching out for it as I pulled a matching bottle from the plastic bag. “A toast to what?”

“We're having a wake tonight. For Aleksei. And...when we thought you were dead, he led a toast to you, Max. Maybe you'd want to extend the same courtesy to him.”

“Really? After all I've done to you, after the pain I've inflicted...”

“I personally could care less, Max,” I shot back. “I'd let you rot in here if I could. But this isn't about me. It's about Aleksei. It's your call.”

“Hmm. You have a point, Herman. Aleksei was a big, dumb rock. But he was a loyal rock.” After a second, he unscrewed the top of the beer bottle, and I did the same. The beer was warm, but it wasn't the liquid that mattered, but the words. Electro raised his bottle towards me, and I responded with my own salute. “To Aleksei,” Maxwell Dillon proclaimed. “May his Heaven find plenty of walls to plow through.”

“Smart-ass,” I said, a grin on my face as I took a swig. Screwing the top back on, I pushed my bottle through the tray as well. “Here. I know they're feeding you prison food. Have a little something on me.”

“Thank you, Herman.” I nodded, and turned to walk down the long corridor back towards the guard post. “You know, I am telling the truth. This isn't over. Dormammu will be back. I'll be at his side. And there will be a reckoning, Herman. Oh, yes,” Electro said, a sneer in his words, “there will be a reckoning.”

*****

“Can I get another whiskey and soda, Fred?”

“On it, Doctor!” Fred easily slid past the other bartender, snagging a bottle of Jack Daniels 1954 from the shelve in the process. “Single or double?”

“Make it a double,” Doctor Octopus answered. “I'm not driving.”

I laughed as the amber liquid filled the glass. “Fred,” I told him, sitting next to the good Doctor, “are you using Jack Daniels 1954 as a bottom shelf MIXER?”

“Why the hell not,” he called back with a big grin. “We've got cases of it in the back! I can't believe that when the world was coming to an end, no one thought to hit the high end night clubs! They were just cases of the good stuff sitting around for the taking!”

“In that case, I'll take a Stolichnaya Elit!” The high-priced vodka filled my glass, a faint taste of spice and cream on my gullet as I sipped the drink. “Whoa,” I said. “That is damn smooth.”

“And there is plenty, and I mean PLENTY, more where that came from, mate! We're probably going to have to expand into the place next door for the room!”

“You've been dipping into your own stock tonight, haven't you?” I laughed as I looked at Fred's red eyes. “You're tipsy!”

“Hey, I'm not drinking that American swill you stocked your hideout with, Herman. I'm enjoying the good stuff!”

Yeah, Fred was on his way to being smashed. The other bartender simply mixed drinks and served them. Tonight, the Bar With No Name was having a combination wake and grand opening, fully open bar, no cash allowed or wanted. Hell, most cash was worthless anyway. Anything people wanted was just around for the taking, and no matter how much SHIELD and the government warned otherwise, people were just taking what they needed and what they wanted. It was going to take more than a week for everything to shake out and get back to some semblance of normal.

*****

This past week had been a blur to me. While everyone else on the planet had been in recovery mode, trying to take stock of what was lost, helping to dispose of the massive number of corpses that lined the streets, and figuring out a way to bring the world back to a working order, I had spent the first two days stone cold drunk. And then the next three days dealing with SHIELD, Doctor Strange and the Avengers as they debriefed me on the Darkhold, Dormammu, and what had really happened to Norman Osborn. And then the day after that mulling over an offer. And today helping set up the Bar for its grand reopening.

There had been talk about moving the Bar to a new location, a place a little more upscale, a little more luxurious. That talk had happened between Fred and myself that very first night, when the two of us had broken open the front door to the Bar down in Alphabet City, passing the school bus that had been under siege that very first night, the site of my very first zombie kill. The lights still worked, but as Fred and I set about on the course of getting ourselves absolutely freaking' smashed, the door had opened. The bartender simply walked behind the bar, shooting a look at Fred that caused the Australian to sheepishly go around to a bar stool, and began pouring us drinks. That quashed any talk about moving the Bar.

Over the course of the week, once Fred had sobered up, he began to take stock of the bar's stock, and found it lacking. While I was out being interrogated and cross-examined by Colonel Fury, Fred had slowly begun to restock the bar's alcohol supply. Gone were the days of Classic Club liquor and Pabst Blue Ribbon. Now, Fred's nose sniffed out the high end stuff. He brought stuff from Fifth Avenue: $500 dollar bottles of aged Scotch, bottles of wine from the turn of the 19th century, beers with unpronounceable names. It had become his quest to restock the Bar with the high end goods that villains like us used to dream about as we pounded down Golden Anniversary beer.

Until yesterday. When I came into the Bar for a drink after getting the offer, and there was Fred. Behind the bar. Learning how to pour a proper drink from the mute bartender.

“The way I see it, mate,” Fred had explained to me as he mixed me up a Jack-and-coke, “crime as we know it is over. Everything's out there for the taking. I could go down to the bank and pick up $100,00 and no one would give a damn. And when the new laws come down, how much do you want to bet they end up being old-school, Wild West style laws, I mean harsh and swift? Forget that. I'm retiring, Herman,” he told me. “I'm opening up a bar. This bar. I'm the new partner, mate. I keep everything stocked, and the bartender pours the drinks. Because, hey, everyone need a place to get drunk, right?”

*****

“...and Aleksei just scratches his head, and goes 'but you showed me on the map where you wanted me to bust up that camp of rebels.' And the government guy takes the map, turns it right side up, and tells Aleksei he had been holding the damn map wrong! He had accidentally busted up a government camp!”

I smirked, remembering that story as Speed Demon told it to our table. “So later on, I ask Aleksei what had happened. He just put that dumb smirk on his face and goes 'the rebels made me a better offer.'”

That broke up the table. Hydro-Man howled as Speed Demon sipped from his beer, and even I smiled brightly at the tale. “Man...you know, Aleksei wasn't dumb,” Speed Demon said. “ He was just...simple. Herman told me that,” he said, pointing the bottle of beer in my direction. “Yeah. He had a good heart. I always wondered what would have happened if he had gone legit. Probably would have ended up a bouncer as some high-end casino somewhere,” I said. “I mean, seriously, you start trouble at a casino, one look at Aleksei and your ass is going somewhere else.”

“Too bad we're never going to find out,” Hydro-Man said. “It's a shame, too. Look at us. We're all going to have to go get real jobs now. Crime isn't going to pay anymore.”

“Hey, I already got a gig lined up,” Speed Demon said. “High speed courier. The roads and highways are still a mess, and they're using the airports for emergency services. Stuff still needs to get places.”

“I'll probably end up with SHIELD.” Hydro-Man saw the eyebrows go up around the table. “There's a lot of places that need water and new irrigation system. The old water sources are filled with dead bodies and won't be clean for a while. Aqueduct convinced me to go apply for the reconstruction effort. I'll probably hear something tomorrow.”

“Good for you, Morris,” I said, saluting him with my bottle of beer.

“What about you,” Speed Demon asked. “You got anything lined up? I would imagine they're pounding on your door to offer you a job of some sort.”

I gave a half-hearted shrug. “I'm sure something will come up...I have a couple of irons in the fire...”

*****

“Herman!”

I had just stepped out of the bathroom when Boomerang called me over to the bar. I walked with unsteady steps, the mix of beer and vodka not settling well in my system. “This just got dropped of for you,” Fred told me, pulling a package wrapped in brown paper from behind the bar. “No name on it. Someone gave it to the Prowler and said it was for you.”

“Huh. Well, it ain't ticking. That's a good sign.” I undid the string holding the paper together, and carefully unfolded the wrapping, my hands shaking slightly from the alcohol. Inside the paper was another wrapped package, this one in white tissue paper, along with a little envelope. I opened that one first. The writing swam slightly in front of my eyes as I read it once, and than a second time to confirm what I had read.

“Dear Herman,” the paper said. “I've been assigned, by my request, to Molecule Man's initiative team operating out of Colorado. I figured this way, we'll never see each other again. I owe you this much, though, for the hell I put you through. I am sorry. Pete.”

“Well, who the bloody hell is it from,” Boomerang slurred.

“Pete,” I responded. Boomerang blinked in surprise as I went to unwrap the tissue paper. It slowly was revealed to us, a thick, curved piece of gray polymers, tapering to a wickedly sharp point at the end. I knew what it was immediately. It took Fred a few more seconds.

“That's...”

“Yeah.” I held the Rhino's horn carefully in both hands. It had been polished, and severed cleanly at the end where it should have been attached to the suit. “It's Aleksei's,” I spoke quietly.

We stared at it quietly for a few seconds, in the din of the bar. “Tomorrow,” Fred finally said, “when I'm sure I'm sober, I'm gonna hang that above the door.”

I nodded slowly. “I think that's a damn good idea.”

*****

The communicator in my pants buzzed. It took me a few tries to fish it out, my fingers refusing to slide into the pocket of the jeans I was wearing. I held it up in front of me, reading the text message that I had just received.

“MEET ME OUTSIDE, ACROSS THE STREET. MM.”

MM? Who the hell did I...

Oh, crap.

“Fred...Fred!”

“What?”

“Do you have any chewing gum? Or Febreze?”

“I got some Big Red.”

“I need a piece. No. Two pieces.”

“Ok, ok!” He fished under the bar as I smelled myself. I smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. Damn it. “Here,” Boomerang said, handing me two foil-wrapped pieces. I shoved them into my mouth, chewing and getting as much saliva in my mouth as I could to wash the cinnamon taste around. “What the hell's going on?”

“No time to talk,” I said, spitting the gum back into the foil. “How's my hair look?”

“Like a damn rat's nest.” But I was already on the move as Fred criticized me. “Herman, who the hell...”

I lost him in the din as I pushed my way through the crowd. A lot of hands slapped me on the back, some of them shoving drinks at me, but I ignored them all as I made it to the front door. I remembered to grab my jacket before stepping outside into the November night, which was just starting to turn bitterly cold. I threw it on as I scanned the dark street, looking for the person who had sent me the text.

“Over here, Herman,” her voice called out.

I carefully made my way across the road, hoping not to bump into the school bus of any of the parked cars. The sky was overcast, clouds blocking the stars and the moon, and all the lights were out in Alphabet City. ConEd had gone through and turned out the power girds for most of Manhattan, as people who died or fled their homes didn't have time to turn their lights off. Right now, the light pouring from the windows of the Bar With No Name was being made by a generator, the gasoline siphoned from the cars lining the street to power the drunkenly revelry inside.

She was in a thick black peacoat, as opposed to my brown bomber jacket, standing next to a fire hydrant. “Whoa,” Ms. Marvel said as I carefully approached. “You smell like a speakeasy.”

“Well,” I said, focusing really really hard on not slurring my words or falling down. I wasn't that drunk, but why take chances? “The wake's been going on since seven. It's...what time is it?”

“0300,” she replied.

“Really? Wow.” I rubbed at my eyes. “It's...been cathartic. Lot of booze. Lot of memories. Lot of talk about what the hell we're going to do next. It's tough out there for a criminal now,” I said with a smirk. “A lot of us are probably going to go legitimate, try to get real jobs.”

“You're kidding me.”

“Hey, Speed Demon's already opened his own courier service, and Doctor Octopus wants to get back into teaching again.” Shaking my head, I told her, “it's our world now. We helped save it, and now we're going to help rebuild it.”

“And it's all because of you, Herman.” I waved my hand at her, but she continued. “I know you're modest, and want to stay off the radar...but it's true. This might not have come to pass if you hadn't been in the middle of things. You're the reason this world's still here, Herman.” She took a stepped forward. “Thank you,” Ms. Marvel said as she lightly kissed me on the cheek.

I went flush. She had to see how red my face had gotten. “Um...er...wow. Thanks. I mean...you're welcome? Yeah. You're welcome.”

A small giggle escaped from the blonde powerhouse. “Fred told me you'd blush.”

“Fred?”

“Well, yeah. I called earlier to make sure you were sober enough to talk. I wasn't going to have you come out here all sloppy drunk and hammered. You'd make a fool out of yourself. He told me if I gave you a peck, you'd turn into a blushing schoolboy. Turns out, he was right.”

“Damn it, Fred,” I groused good-naturedly. I was going to come up with some witty, smooth reply to take advantage of the opening, when something cold touched the end of my nose. I put a finger on it, pulling back a bit of clear wetness as another bit of cold hit my ears. Looking up at the sky, I could see hundreds of white flakes falling towards the street. “Huh. It's snowing.”

“Flurries tonight,” Ms. Marvel replied. “No accumulation. So it's not going to hamper the clean-up effort.” She gave a weary sight. “You know...how long is everything going to revolve around what happened? Everything is tying into removing dead bodies, and moving citizens around, and...”

“Hey.” She looked at me with worried eyes, and I shot back my best grin. “Just...listen. No traffic. No planes. It's the first snow of the season. Enjoy the little things for a moment.”

“I'm not used to New York being so quiet,” she admitted. “Look, Herman...the reason I'm here is, I want you to really consider our offer to you.”

“Oh. That's why you're here,” I replied.

“Come on, Herman. You know I can't go in there and hoist a beer with everyone. To them, I'm Ms. Marvel, blonde bombshell who'd they like to see naked. With you...ok, I'm sure you want to see me naked, but at least you're holding a conversation with me and not trying to paw me because I kissed you on the cheek. I came here to see you because...I want you working with us. You're smart, you have powerful weapons...and you're brave. You're incredibly brave and you don't know when the hell to give up. And...maybe, deep down inside, away from zombies and demigods, they're a nice guy in there I wouldn't mind getting to know. Hell, you have Henry Pym gushing over your technical genius, and he's not the easiest guy in the world to please.”

“Pym? Really?” I looked up at the snow, letting the flakes hit my cheek. “Is there even a need anymore, though? Does the world need someone like me around?”

“It's not over, Herman. The Absorbing Man and Titania are up in Seattle. The U-Foes are claiming Los Angeles as they own. And we haven't heard anything out of Apocalypse or Doctor Doom since this whole mess started.” She sighed again, a wry look on her face. “When one crisis ends, Herman, another one's beginning somewhere else. Besides...what are you going to do? Go into engineering? I'd bet you'd be bored with in a week.”

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket before responding. “You know...where I'm standing right now? This is where I killed my first zombie. Completely by accident, I shoved this guy backwards and he hit his head on that fire hydrant right there. I was so afraid I had killed a guy, I was looking for excuses. Look at me now. Look at where I'm standing. In the exact same place where it all began.” The snow was melting in my hair, drops of water dripping down as I ran a hand through my brown mane. “Full circle. Hell, I'm coming full circle. And that means a closed system, where nothing new enters, and nothing new leaves. I was really never a fan of a closed system.”

“So...is that a yes? Or is that a no?”

I shook my head, not believing what I was about to say. “I think what it is, Ms. Marvel is...Avengers Assemble.”

The smile on her face shone through the snowy night. “That's great, Herman. Just great.” She put out her arms to me, motioning me to walk up and embrace her.

“Actually,” I said after a few seconds, “instead of that hug, there's this diner just up the road. I used to eat there a lot after a night of drinking. How about we celebrate over a cup of coffee...Carol?”

Ms. Marvel...Carol...chuckled. “You know, yeah. A cup of coffee would be great on a cold winter's night.”

“Then come on. Let's get me sobered up.” I turned, and extended the crook of my arm to her, not bothering to hide the wide smile on my face. “Lady, take my hand.”

THE END

Man, this is one helluva story