Deep in the Earth's core broods the Silver Surfer. The surface of his body refracting the red light of magma giving his body an infernally brilliant glow. His eyes sanguineous, baleful expressions on his face as he lay sprawled on the top of a smoldering rocky surface, he raised an upward open palm, as though to petition some higher preternatural power, he begins to soliquize yet again:
"I vowed never to aid the humans again, for time and time again are my deeds construed as malicious. My words: serpentine. My motives: malevolent. I feared that the next time my graciousness met an onslaught of fearful violence I would stay my hand no longer; that I would renounce my nobility and commit actions of supreme ignobility by attacking my helpless inferiors with the nearly invincible power cosmic. I retreated to the vastness of the ocean to resist this savage urge, for if I were to have satisfied it I would have become worse than the very juggernaut from whom I fought to save this Earth. He was utterly indifferent, only doing what he must to survive, and I, who am nearly invincible, need not strike them in self-defense. Though a fate perhaps worse is mine instead: to ever flee in misery, to be bombarded with hate and nameless fear everywhere I go because none will dare risk communication with one as strange as I. Even on the sprawling surface of the ocean blue did they seek me and attack me. My rage boiled over and though I only used my power cosmic to destroy their ship's arsenal, I dare think that it was only because the humans remained hidden in their vessel. If I had to see one of their fearful compassionless faces and dreadful eyes I shutter to think what dishonorable acts I may have committed in that fierce moment of passion. That is why I have burrowed to the core of the Earth. They have yet to develop technology to travel here. It is I whom am the prisoner because I am so merciful. When it is I who—" A distant though shatters the Surfer's sentiments like a brick through a stained glass window and he is reminded that he knows sorrow far more profound than ostracism: to have loved and lost.
"Shalla Bel. Beautiful and loving Shalla Bel. Even in utter desolation does mine heart pang with loss in light of your memory. Must your gay smile ever stain my mind? Must your frolicking spirit tantalize and torment my soul? The long for your loving nature and gentle touch endlessly tug at my heart strings? Are my eyes never to meet the loving gaze of one Shalla Bel again? She who is compassion supreme. She who is benevolence manifest. She who is love incarnate. All these years have I yearned to lay mine hand upon yours once more, to look into your welcoming eyes again. Now, I dare say, though not without reluctance and shame, that I find myself wishing that I never knew you. That I never even laid eyes upon your divine lustrous beauty. Never witnessed your gentle warm nurture. Never granted the privilege of beeholding your boundless graciousness. However painful the memory, it was a privilege indeed. Fair and virtuous Shalla Bel. You who are of peerless beauty. You who are love immaculate. Allow me rest. Go to another who will appreciate and care for you deservingly. I wish to be alone."
With these final words a freeing calm expels the weariness in the Surfer's heart. "I hope you find another who loved you as I." The Surfer pauses momentarily, a brief meditation, then resumes in new spirit: "Nay," somewhat weak, he pauses briefly and regains his composure with a rebirth of vigor and a healthy does of self-indignation. "Nay, I say! Melancholy and maudlin sentiments have sullied my spirit and saddened my very soul: blinding me to the truth that where blood flows with the torrential life of a rapid river, wherever air fills the lungs and belly as abundantly as the atmosphere itself does hope yet remain. It is where the difference between one's will and one's destiny is but the means whereby. The tender memory of mine consent is mine all; both the bitter and the sweet. The memory of her spirit is testament to the power of my will. If Shall Bel and Zenn-La are where my will desires to take me, then it is I who must find the means whereby."
A quick dart to his feet and a commanding gesture of his hand he shouts sonorously, "To me my board! Let us leave this miserable place of isolation. Let us return to the world above so that I might consult my friends the Fantastic Four. If anyone can help me break through Galactus' force field it is the brilliant Dr. Reed Richards!"