Marvel: Demons and Martyrs, a Marvel + 24 Crossover fanfic

Chapter One:

Genosha

the truth was unescapeable; the reality unaviodable. As crowds gathered, huddled amidst the smoke and fog, watching the once resilient towers collapse. THe people knew with solemn reverance that they'd been attacked. Days, weeks, months, years would pass and in hushed voices they'd ask, "Where were you - where were you when the embassy fell?" Like all catastrophes the event brought people together. Huddled in doorways, crowding at windows, murmuring in the streets all linked by feelings of hurt and of loss. All connected by the same questions,

"Why?"

"How?"

"Who?"

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New York

Nick Fury was no different, sitting chomping on his cigar staring at the outstretched USA Today, he'd already answered the "Where" and the "What". He needed to know, "Why", "How" and most importantly "who". HE swiveled in his chair and crumbled the paper in his strong hands. Leaning forward he clattered on the key board. The computer was a large boxy thing. Only what was neccessary. Nothing fancy or pretty. He hit the buttons with hard strokes and quick jabs and stabs of his fingers.

He struggled to gain access to the SHIELD Database, grimacing and growling as the same message filled the glowing glass screen.

"Access Denied."

Fury was the first to admit he was no computer whiz, but he also knew he was not popular at SHIELD. The Cold War was over and there'd been a push for a more politically correct leader. One who would abide by Jqck Kennedy's words: "Let us not negotiate out of fear, but let us not fear to negotiate." Fury simply had not made the cut. He'd become a victim of a changing era.

Nothing more ,nothing less.

"Damn it." he said flicking the smoldering cigar butt out the window. He left

Next stop, Genosha.

New York City

Frank Castle, The Punisher, was on the prowl as he always was. Never resting always fighting. He could never stop there will always be, for every criminal he put to justice, another. Always another marauder holding up a young couple in an alleyway. Always one more cop on the take. Another crime family. Another man beating a woman. He was fighting an unwinnable battle. One man against all the inner city punks and thieves and killers.

When his bullets were all spent he would fight passed the point where his body was spent, long passed it. He'd been told that every act of violence he commited would be turned back on him a thousand times in the end.

He didn't mind, he had nothing to lose,

Nothingt gain either, olny vengeance.

He perched on the fire escape, redeucing himself to a shadow in the alley. Lying in wait. As the man walked into the alley he walked with a kind of edginess and guilt. Guilt as if every sin he commited weighed heavily on his shoulders. His eyes registered a kind of wariness, the kind you acquire from spending years in a violent industry. The kind that only a man who knows he's going to die young has. He was nervous. Hoping to be alone.

Knowing he wasn't.

Castle dropped from the rusty fire escape to the ground. Leading with his booted fet. Slamming intot he man's chest. The man fell. His eyes darted about finally settling on the white skull emblazoned o Castle's chest. Something flashed across the amn's face.

Terror.

Fright.

Doom.

Castle produced a large gun, a Colt Anaconda, a four pound revolver.

"Don't kill me!" the man cried.

"Talk." Castle grumbled.

"'Bout what?"

"Mosaic."

"What?" Castle saw a glint of recognition in the man's faltering eyes.

"You know what Mosaic is, tell me about it."

The man hesitated for a second.

A second to long. Castle fired the first bullet into the man's leg, the mqan howled and whimpered, his scream competed with the sound of the gunshot.

"Talk."

"Mosaic, it's a mercenary group, private contractors, call them what you may. They're real bad! WHat the government calls Super-Soldiers, like Captain America only not nearly as patriotic, not by a longshot. They work for the highest bidder."

Castle fired the gun and watched as the man's arm burst into a red haze of blood and bone fragments.

"Is that it?"

"No, no, no of course not! They've been running operations world wide."

Castle fires the gun into the man's second leg, "where?"

"E-everywhere. Europe, Asia, Genosha-"

"Genosha?"

"Yeah, Mutie heaven."

"They blew up the Embassy?"

"Yeah, yeah! That was them."

Silence.

"That's all I can say."

"I know."

"You going to kill me?"

Castle's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Damn straight."

Genosha, Ground Zero

Logan tore into the rubble, the building lay in ruins, nothing but a pile of rocks and steel. Logan stabbed at the bricks with his exxtended claws. THe indestructable blades crushed the stone and shattered steel. With a grown and a grumble he dug.

"Ain't gonna' find nothin'" he growled his keen senses told him everything he needed to know. The wasn't a living thing in the pile of debris. The wasn't a living creature within a mile he didn't know about. It was a nonliving thing, a nonentity that he didn't notice. Until now. he stooped and with one claw lifted the dull black hook. HE held in the light, though he hardly needed any help to identify the item.

It was a compact grappling hook, a thin nylon cord was attached to it. The cord was burned and singed. It was the type of device used by special forces units to rappel down a building and enter. It was the kind he'd used. He turned holding the cord up, and stared into Nick Fury's brown eyes ignoring the left eyepatch.

"What d'you make of it?" Logan asked gruffly.

Nick Fury had known that Wolverine, the man known as Logan, had likely - no definately - had seen him, sensed his presense. Still it was hard not to be taken off guard by Logan's abruptness. Still Fury reached for the hook with a leather gloved hand and weighed in hs palm. He glanced at Logan and gave a slight nod; a silent aknowledgement.

"Damn." Fury muttered.

"Yeah." Logan grunted.

"Someone inflitrated the Embassy." Fury didn't have to say, but he did almost as if he could wrap his mind around the simple fact.

"Explosion was a coverup."

"Uh-huh."

Logan was silent.

"I'll run the serial numbers." Fury ran his gloved hand over the raised text on the hook.

"Yeah." Logan mutttered, he wordless he returned to the rubble.

Frank Castle walked across the rooftop, he knew that he'd turn up soon enough, and he had. The figure clothed in red was crouched; perched on a stone gargoyal. Castle stood behind the blood colored figure, the man without fear. He waited for DareDevil to aknowledge him.

"Punisher." it was a lone word, short and sucinct. A simple aknowledgement.

"I need you to get some information."

"Can't you do it yourself?" the red man stared at the black clothed man with blind eyes.

"I have few informants."

"That's what happens when you kill these people."

"Forget the lecture, I've heard it."

"I don't approve of you methods."

"I need you to run up some info on a mercenary team..."

"Your kind of people."

"Mosaic."

"Mosaic?"

"That's the name."

"I'll see what I can do."

Castle started to leave.

"Try not to kill my clientelle." DareDevil said in a resigned way, like he'd said to many times before; like it was just part of a routine, all part of the dance.

Castle didn't turn he spoke over his shoulder.

"I'll do things my way; yours doesn't work."