SHIELD Sub-Station
Things were not good. Not good at all.
In the underground bunker of the make-shift headquarters, Cap stared at a wall sized display screen, a projection of Earth's continents with several pulsating red points across their face. Now not only was there two giant monsters from a parallel universe roaming unchecked, there were four. Just how the others could have gotten here without Richard's portal ticked at him fiercely, the prospect of another party orchestrating what amounted to an invasion on the world. The Earth was under siege.
On top of all that, Wakanda had been subject to an asteroid strike, that wasn't a real asteroid, causing all sorts of mysterious phenomena. And the facility housing the remains of the subterranean monsters had been attacked and demolished, by a creature that was capable of defeating the Incredible Hulk, and leaving Banner with barely enough vitality to keep breathing.
Suddenly on screen, a series of alerts highlighted a point in the middle of the Atlantic. Two data windows with stems connected to the same red dot, one on the left reporting the epicenter of a massive spike in radioactivity, the one on the right describing the epicenter of an underwater noise loud enough to be registered from pole to pole.
"Looks like Godzilla is making new friends already." Rogers mused, hoping in the back of his mind that whatever had occurred was nothing more than a brief skirmish, perhaps a tussle with another of this worlds native monsters.
Something else that ate at him was the continued absence of Hank McCoy, who was still on the other side of the wall. Over the few years that the Avengers had been working with the X-Men, he had grown to like and respect Beast, his maturity a welcome respite from the often rowdy dynamic of the Avengers, or the super-professional demeanor of SHIELD. Whatever his friend was doing over there, he just wished he'd get it done, the best, the brightest, and the strongest were going to be needed for this world-spanning emergency.
He even considered options that were usually off the table. The remaining Sentinels under Federal control were collecting dust in their holding facility, decommissioned since the end of Operation: Zero Tolerance. There were even a few 'Nuclear options' as he liked to think of them, super powered individuals of such capacity they might single-handedly beat one of these monsters. But they were kept under lock and key for everyone's protection, unleashing them might open a Pandora's box of terrible outcomes. What options were left then? Let them run amok until they got tired and went home? Their ranks were stretched thin as it was, and that's including those who stood no chance against such powerful creatures.
No good options, nothing until Stark or Richards came through with a solution. They were on the defensive, reacting instead of initiating; which was the worst feeling for Steve Rogers, distinctly not liking being in the position of weakness. The barely organized state of his temporary command center a visual metaphor for SHIELD after just a single encounter with Godzilla; humbled.
He placed his hands on the counter that ran along the bottom of the display screen, letting his head hang after the long hours of stress.
"Why couldn't it have been Hydra? And nice, simple, Hydra attack?"
XAVIER INSTITUTE
It was coming. He could feel it. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Charles Xavier wheeled through the halls of his home, trying to construct some plan that amounted to more than gathering his students in the bunkers below the mansion. Wolverine was off on sabbatical, searching in the Canadian wilderness for answers to the questions of his past. Colossus was visiting family in Russia, a well deserved vacation for one of his most loyal X-Men. Storm was with her husband in Wakanda, dealing with their own predicament. Beast, his trusted confidant, was a world away.
Aside from a dozen students, Jean was the only member of his team on hand, and she was still recovering from her encounter with Godzilla, hardly in any condition to fend off a being like the one that was on course for the mansion. Xavier tried to remember the meeting at the Baxter Building, and he had a strong feeling that this creature was from the other world. Going into his own mind, he could not find any part of the memory of that day in which the image of this crystalline fiend appeared in the sequence of that world's monsters. He had no idea what he was dealing with.
"Professor?"
The voice startled him, snapping Xavier back into the present. He came to a stop a few paces away from Jean Grey, who leaned in the doorway to one of the classrooms, giving him a concerned look.
"Jean, you should be resting."
"Can't sleep professor." She said softly, looking to the floor. "Scott's out there, Godzilla's out there, it's mentally exhausting but I can't bring myself to stay still for five minutes."
Xavier offered no reply, staring off to the side in thought. Jean saw that something was weighing on him, and came to a knee before his chair, placing a hand on his.
"What is it? Did something happen?"
Instead of telling her, Charles placed his own right hand on the side of her face, and allowed her mind to see what he saw with Cerebro, but he did keep from her the initial images of fire and destruction sent by the entity in the asteroid.
In her mind, she saw the landscape of crystal towers, miles after miles of the gleaming spires. The voice, dripping with malice and sinister intelligence, speaking as a predator might speak to its prey. Then the face, emerging from the amorphous form of the psyche, it's eyes gleaming, its face almost grinning.
That face! She thought, it looked like Godzilla, but mutated. The facial structure was slightly thinner, but it was undeniable.
"I thought the same thing." Xavier said flatly, "This creature possess a formidable psychic profile, and if he is related to Godzilla somehow, then there's no telling how dangerous he could be."
"What do we do professor? How do we stop him?"
"I don't know if we can Jean. We'll get the students underground, and try to maintain communication with the Avengers."
Jean stood and turned away from her mentor, a scary thought bubbling to the surface of her mind.
"Professor, do you think… that I might have to let out-"
"It won't come to that Jean," Xavier interrupted, scooting to her side, "No matter what happens."
Despite his own fear, not just for the young mutants entrusted to his house, but for the Earth as a whole, mutant and human alike, a guilty thought crossed his mind, and was dashed away just as quick. What might he do in this situation? he asked himself, trying to picture how the master of magnetism would combat such a foe.
The sound of helicopters moving above the mansion drew their attention to a window that opened to the courtyard, where the winds caused by the twin rotors buffeted the curtain. A long-bodied black craft touched down on the lawn, the emblem of SHIELD on the side was shifted when the door opened, allowing several agents to climb out. The last man, lean and sporting a crew-cut of grey hair made a b-line for the double doors that faced the quad.
Xavier and Jean met him at the entrance as he approached, his men establishing a security perimeter around the area. The pale man, dressed like his men but bearing the air of a hardened vet offered a short smile.
"Professor Xavier, I'm Special Agent Seth Makon," he spoke in a rough voice; "we're here under the direct order of Captain Rogers to offer you and your students a ride out of here. Other SHIELD teams and local units are evac'ing the county, but my team has been tasked specifically with seeing the X-Men to safety. We'll take you to a secure location, where you'll be provided for until the threat is neutralized."
A stunned Charles Xavier was stuck for words. Here he had though that the mutants were on their own, but a life-preserver in the form of a SHIELD helicopter felt like the vindication of his years of petitioning for peace.
"Thank you Agent Makon, It'll just be a few minutes."
Makon was about to respond when his face changed, and he put a finger to his ear, listing intently to the voice coming through his comlink. Suddenly his expression turned to shock. He whistled sharply, a command that each of his men understood reflexively, proved by their swift movement to enter the mansion.
"Whatever the hell is coming down just jettisoned several crystal meteorites, we have five minutes before this place is pockmarked. Get your kids out here now."
Without wasting a second more, Xavier closed his eyes, reaching his mind out to the students in the mansion. The imagery in his head flashed through Danielle Moonstar, the young Bobby Drake, and several others "Everyone, get to the courtyard immediately, run! Now!"
Thousands of feet above their heads, the sterling crystal shards cut through the atmosphere, absorbing the thermal heat as they reached terminal velocity. Bolts of white energy sparking along their surface.
On the ground, Xavier, Jean, and Agent Makon stood at the door to the helicopter, watching as the young mutants were hustled aboard by the SHIELD operators. The last of them, trailing behind the final student stopped in his tracks and pointed to the sky.
Makon and Jean craned their necks upwards to see the fiery bottoms of the crystals directly above them.
"HURRY! GET IN!" Jean shouted as the last few people ducked their heads under the rotor blades. Several hundred yards to the south, the first of the meteorites landed, a crystal iceberg embedding itself in the ground, throwing up a tsunami of dust, debris, and a shower of brilliant luminous sparks. The shock tilted the helicopter to a dangerous angle, the blades briefly cutting into the lawn before settling back on its legs.
Taking the opportunity, Jean used her telekinesis to lift Xavier's chair onto the helicopter, before she and Makon climbed in themselves. Lifting off the ground, the craft was hit by the wind of another crashing crystal, nearly bowling it over and forcing the occupants to hold on for dear life. Bobby Drake threw a stream of ice connecting his headmaster's chair to the floor, preventing him for being tossed from his seat. "Buckle-up professor!"
Xavier did so, a second before the fuselage pitched to the right.
"Hang on back there! It's gonna get a bit hairy!" called the pilot, doing his best to assure his passengers.
Jean clung to the handles, glancing back to see Danni Moonstar in her seat with her knees tucked into her chest, and her eyes shut in fear. She's not wrong Jean thought. Other students were not faring much better, clutching at their restraints like a safety blanket.
Then she felt it.
Her legs buckled as the harbinger of the malignant entity's psychic presence hit her. Much like Godzilla, its mind was far more powerful than that of mere humans, possibly on par with the professor. But unlike the former, the magnitude of its psychic aura wasn't latent, it was rolled out like the first wave of an invading army, probing and searching.
"LOOK OUT!" One of the SHIELD agents screamed, and the pilot jerked the controls to the left, but it was too late.
A crystal berg came down, the helicopter narrowly avoided being crushed against its underside by a few feet. A discharge of blinding cosmic voltage reached out from the side of the space mineral, and struck the rotor mast, warping the gears and electrifying the craft. Sparks and flames erupted as the control panel burst in the faces of the pilot and co-pilot, throwing the chopper into a downward spiral. Agent Makon used his body to keep two students from being tossed against the wall, gripping onto handles with white knuckles.
"JEAN! TRY TO STEADY THE CRAFT!"
Holding on for her own dear life, Jean closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, trying to visualize the tumbling helicopter and its relation to the ground.
The crystal struck the ground, forcing upwards its own upsurge of debris that capsized the out-of-control Chinook. Jean fell shoulder first against the sliding door, her face pressed onto the window. Through the still whirring blades she opened her eyes to see the ground rushing up to meet them, covered as it was now by displaced earth. What broke her heart in the instant however, was the sight of more than half of the mansion crushed and buried under the 7-story crystal.
The shock focused her mind, and placing her palm on the window, she began slowing the decent of the helicopter.
The craft came to a sudden stop two meters above the ground, the blades slicing into the lawn until the effort wore down their momentum. She panted out loud, realizing just how close they all came to a terrible end.
Anyone injured?" Agent Makon asked, his complexion nearly as white as his hair.
The cabin filled with mummers, but no cries of pain. Until Moonstar opened her eyes and saw the Professor Xavier frozen in position, gazing off into absent space.
"Professor are you alright?" she asked.
She would never get her answer. Something gigantic struck the earth nearby, something far heavier than the crystals.
Jean lowered the helicopter to the ground, the metal complaining as its weight settled.
Bobby Drake perked his head up, trying to look out the nearest window; "What was that?"
A piercing wail transformed into a menacing grumble, and the crystals around them started to pulse with inner light, bolts of white lightning cracked from the tips.
She could feel the monster's shadow looming over them, it knew they were huddled inside, battered and terrified. Jean could feel that it was waiting for them, like a cat poised just outside the mouse hole, claws ready to pounce.
Then a new force took hold of the helicopter, dragging it along the ground with some intangible tether.
Jean seized the door with her telekinesis, forcing it screaming open against the gears. Bobby stepped forward, throwing a stream of ice in front of the helicopter, creating a blockage. But the pull was too strong, and the mass of ice was shattered.
"GET OUT!" Makon yelled, alarmed at having absolutely no control over the situation. "
One by one the passengers jumped out, rolling as they hit the ground. The helicopter hit a bump, causing Danni to hesitate at the threshold until Agent Makon grabbed her from behind and launched them out.
Bobby was about to go when he looked back, a worried look on his face for Xavier. Jean put a reassuring hand on his should, letting him know that she'd take care of their mentor. The young X-Man leapt out of the craft atop a track of ice towards where the SHIELD agents had formed a protective ring around the students.
Jean spared the dead pilots a final glance before stretching a hand out for the professor. The ice holding his chair in place splintered and broke apart, and she lifted the apparatus through the door ahead of her. Xavier was still catatonic as the helicopter slid past them, before being lifted into the air and thrown away.
Only now could Jean finally see what had caused all the devastation, what had nearly sent them to a fiery death only moments ago. With the field of crystal spires and the burning mansion in his shadow, SpaceGodzilla towered, the sun behind him making the quartz blocks on his shoulders glow. He glared down at the fleeing humans, sensing their desperation, their anger, their fear. He usually considered these creatures below his notice, insignificant bacteria outside of the machines they built. But this world was different, here they possessed minds capable of reaching out to him.
Once such was doing that now, trying its best to forge a mutual level of connection, an amusing thought, like an ant trying to speak to a tidal wave. This world, SpaceGodzilla thought, will be mine.
BAXTER BUILDING
What have I done?
Reed Richards sat on the chair in his lab, several video feeds were arranged in a half-circle across the face of a larger screen, displaying various scenes. One showed the twisted wreckage of the Triskelion still crawling with workers. Another showed a crane lifting rubble out of the decimated underground SHIELD facility, smoke rising from the pit, survivors in bloodied clothes being treated by medical personnel.
He tilted his head towards another screen, detailing where an asteroid had punched through the atmosphere and landed in Wakanda, without the expected annihilation. Back in New York on the next feed, were crews working to clear the damage caused by Mole-Man's monsters and their thrashing at Godzilla's hands. Explosions on yet another screen drew his attention, where a monster he identified as Gigan walked through a cloud of fire and smoke that used to be part of Beijing. its gleaming optical spewing a blast of crimson energy that shredded an office building.
The monitor that had featured the Triskelion now switched to the live news feed from Connecticut, where building-sized crystal spires dotted a landscape. In their midst stood a blue behemoth, rows of the same crystals along its back, and jutting from its shoulders. It looked remarkable like-
"Godzilla…"
Reed took his tablet in hand, searching through files until, he found what he desired, and threw the data up onto the main display. Several photos of SpaceGodzilla manifested along with information modules about his attack on the other Earth more than a decade earlier.
In the back of his mind he thanked himself for looking into the Godzilla Prediction Network during his night's stay in Tokyo. In fact, he had been researching thoroughly the underground group's profiles on Kaiju great and small, fascinated by the variety of strange creatures that populated their world. Several theories about their origin ran through his mind, alien panspermia, extra-dimensional contact, hell, even downright magic. Then again, there lived and breathed a multitude of mutants, both born and created in the world he already knew, who's to say similar forces weren't the cause.
Looking again into the eyes of the space-borne menace, Reed saw in them something of a reflection. Scanning through the proposed hypotheses of SpaceGodzilla's creation; whereas Reed was transformed by his contact with cosmic radiation, the monster was likely created the way he is. Mr. Fantastic wondered just what kind of celestial horizons the xeno-beast had witnessed while traversing the stars, driven by instinct from the moment of its conception to seek out its genetic kin for a fight to the death.
So far all his efforts had done was exacerbate the problem, and every solution he considered came paired with a disastrous outcome to undermine it. Sending Godzilla to some other dimension could destroy him, but it could also result in some unforeseen twist of fate that makes him more powerful than ever, or merely passing the problem off. The Negative Zone was tempting, but being saturated by the cosmic energies there, too risky.
Shrinking Godzilla presented an interesting alternative. At the size of a cat, or even a bear, the monster could be contained and studied. Though if the process worked like the Pym Particles, the side effect would be a being of such concentrated power, merely walking around in confinement could destroy buildings. Aside from weighing enough to make him virtually un-liftable. And there was always the prospect that the effects could only be temporary.
Reed had run through the list of methods used to defeat him before, documented with surprising detail by the GPN. Freezing, black holes, poison, electrocution, even having his secondary brain destroyed, but nothing stuck. Godzilla had overcome everything thrown against him. Except one, the Oxygen Destroyer.
The exact composition of the chemical compound had never been reproduced, despite amazing leaps in other fields of technology. Perhaps they were unwilling to revive yet another weapon who's only function seemed to be death. But its first and only fielding was under extreme circumstances, lacking the sort of rigorous beta testing and analysis that could have turned the Oxygen Destroyer into something useful. No disrespect to the gifted Dr. Serizawa of course, but from the account in Steve Martin's book, whatever testing he had preformed was burned.
The discovery of micro-oxygen in the mid '90's was a promising lead, but the unintended side-effects… well, they got really bad. But it ate at Reed that tragic events prevented the advance of these scientific marvels. It was an unfortunate reality that people often let their emotions get the better of them, and history will forever be without all the amazing accomplishments that might otherwise have been. But due to some moral objection or fear of the progeny, they stayed their hand. Kept their mouth shut to make sure that the secrets of their discovery remained secret.
If only such a device could be reproduced to confront this plague of destructive monsters, giving back to mankind the means to protect itself. If only there was such a person capable of resurrecting the Oxygen Destroyer. There is… Reed thought in a moment of realization, …I can do it.
STARK TOWER
"Sir, are you sure you don't want to just build a bigger suit?"
"Don't be ridiculous JARVIS, you have any idea how long that would take to build?"
Tony Stark stood in the center of his mechanics lab, surrounded by a holographic funnel that formed an 'eye of the storm' around him. His eyes darted up and down, back and forth between blueprints and data windows. His hands moved across the displays adjusting their size, dismissing, rearranging.
"Approximately two months, one week, and four days, Sir."
"And does it look like we can wait two months while giant monsters destroy cities across the world?"
"No Sir, but it is where you're going to end up isn't it?"
Tony pondered the thought for a moment, his hand hovering millimeters away from touching a window. He imagined himself in a suit as big as a building, poised for battle standing across from Godzilla. But when he pictured Godzilla's face in his mind, the snarling teeth, the glint of fury in the eye, he felt his pulse quicken, and an oncoming sense of lightheadedness.
"Are you alright Sir? You're showing sign of an anxiety attack."
Tony shook his head to clear away the daze, "I'm fine JARVIS, just a little side-effect of getting my can handed to me by a prehistoric relic. Do you have any idea how upsetting that is for a futurist?"
"Devastating, Sir."
"Exactly."
Tony brought several windows together, creating a single schematic for a machine that resembled a giant floating forearm and hand, with a repulsor in the palm. Each fingertip ended in a conductor, which as the holographic demonstration played-out, cast streams of energy towards the center creating an pentagonal artifact in the light. When the beam from the repulsor shot out, it struck the light construct and was refracted into a narrower stream.
Reading the data window that appeared and the numbers within, Tony smiled, satisfied with the estimated output of the satellite beam.
"There, that should even the odds a bit."
"Sir, some of the modifications to VERONICA will require you to make the
adjustments manually."
"I figured. Give me the O-A Mark 3, and prep the tool set."
"Yes Sir. "
Around Tony, the holographic tube dissipated, concentric lights on the floor coming to life illuminating the one-of-a-kind garage. Rising from its compartment, the pod containing the Outer Atmospheric suit met its waiting creator, the silver and red of its design gleaming.
"Well, no time to create a giant death ray from space like the present."
WAKANDA
For the first time, howling winds and the bitter embrace of sub-zero temperatures battered the jungle wild-lands of the isolated African nation. its King, T'Challa, protected mostly by his Black Panther suit looked back to make sure his scouting party was still behind him. In his tacks he saw the several warriors and scientists hugging their bodies to keep warm. They trudged through the rising snow drift, the warriors brandishing their usual Vibranium tipped spears, with modern rifles slung across their backs. The scientists with packs of data recording and sampling equipment.
Closest behind him was N'dele, who kept his face forward despite the sting of the frozen particles whipping through the air.
Above them all, The Queen of Wakanda, Ororo hovered in the center of the maelstrom, silently commanding the wailing gale, her eyes glowing white. The sky around her a swirling, roiling mass of grey clouds and torrents of snow and sleet beside her.
Though visibility through the hail was reduced to a few meters, Black Panther's HUD within his mask told him that the space-object was still ahead of them, giving off heat levels that defied the arctic hurricane wrapped around it. The strange phenomena was not limited to its inexplicable thermals either.
All around them, the vegetation not covered in snow was showing signs of decay, not damage from the cold, but accelerated degradation. The green turned to rotting, brittle matter, trees stripped of their foliage black with death. Back when his team had entered the area, animals fled in droves from the jungle, scrambling over one another to escape some terror.
"It's not much further!" T'Challa yelled back, trying to maintain their spirits. He saw the look in their eyes, the chill was sapping their strength and they showed signs of fatigue. He had to admit, he too was starting to feel weak. The strength granted to him by Bast made him far more resistant than the normal man, but even that had its limits. Something about this asteroid was reaching out to them, radiating, poisoning them.
But nothing should. As they approached, the various devices they carried with them gave no indication of any hazardous effect. There was no sign of increased radiation levels, toxicity, poison gas, infectious spores. Nothing to account for the ruin of the plant life and the sickening claw that was digging into his gut.
The foreboding urge plagued him for the next few miles, as did the devastation to the landscape. Instead of being bent outward from the epicenter, they were bowed towards it. About now he was really regretting not having extra vehicles available. The pair of jeeps they had started out with died when their electrical systems burned out not long after they approached the danger zone, leaving them to lug their gear on foot.
He continued his march, forcing his feet through the piling snow. His right foot came down atop a small rock, but he found himself unable to adjust his balance in time, and stumbled, falling to his hands and knees. In an instant, N'Dele and a warrior were at his side, helping him to stand. Dizziness warped his vision, as he was suddenly unable to keep himself vertical. He fell to his right side, and this time, took the other two with him.
Others rushed to them, and he heard the sound of their voices around him in a wash of unintelligible audio. A hand gripped his, trying to pull him up, but half-way he had to pull his mask up over his mouth, acidic vomit pouring out to the snow. In a moment of clarity, it occurred to him that if he was feeling the effects to this degree, his men could be no better.
He reached to his belt line and retrieved a particular dagger, one not made of Vibranium, but of another kind of extraterrestrial metal. The blade was short, not meant for killing but for the simple act of slicing, on it was etched a series of runes.
He put the bade between his teeth to hold it as he removed his right glove. His comrades around him stumbling into the snow, he knew there was little time left before the sickness would render them immobile. He took the knife and drew the blade across his right palm, exposing his blood to the air. As he did so, he muttered the summons that he hoped would reach the intended ears in time.
"Blood-Brother, I call to thee in my hour of need."
T'Challa collapsed back into the snow atop his comrades, his arms out to his sides, the blade falling from his hand. He lay there, eyes to the sky, but seeing instead the last few vague glimmers of light surrounded by the blackness. But he felt a rumbling in the ground beneath him, something casing a quake in increasing power. Suddenly the remaining light became more intense, nearly blinding, and he felt a warm glow sweep over him.
GREEN BAY, WISCONSIN
YEARS AGO
The doors to the emergency ward burst open as a paramedic and two nurses wheeled in a gurney carrying a bloodied black man, his clothes torn and stained with filth. His button-up shirt was opened, a massive bandage and gauze patch soaked through in crimson.
"He's losing too much blood!" A nurse yelled, using her hands to keep pressure on the wound.
"The saline isn't going to be enough to make-up for it!" The worried paramedic declared.
As they crashed through another set of doors into the surgical wing, a blond haired doctor limped alongside them with his cane.
"I'm a universal donor, we get him on the table and we can start a direct transfusion."
"A little extreme isn't it Dr. Blake?"
"Too much saline will dilute his blood, he's gonna need the real thing."
A minute later the injured man was on the table, the surgical nurses removing the gauze and cleaning his chest. Next to him, sat Dr. Blake on the gurney, his jacket off and his left sleeve rolled-up past is elbow, another nurse preparing the lines for the transfusion.
The surgeon entered, his hands raised in front of them to keep them from touching anything that might contaminate the gloves. He stopped, staring at his colleague; "Dr. Blake I doubt you sanitized yourself on the way in here."
"So kick me out if you think that'll improve his chances." Dr. Blake gave the surgeon a neutral tone, calling his bluff.
"Just don't touch anything." the masked doctor said before continuing on to the side of his patient.
"Alright everyone," The surgeon began, "Let's save this man."
The next morning, the injured man lay in bed, the sun warming his face as it streamed in through the window. His heart rate monitor beeping steadily beside him.
He groaned through his oxygen mask, consciousness at last returning to him. His right arm still laden with tubes and bandages, he reached-up and removed the apparatus, extracting the intubation tube from his trachea. He choked as his throat was cleared and he was able to breathe fresh air.
"You're a fighter Mr. Charles."
Slowly, Luke Charles opened his eyes. The room around him was blurry but well-lit. leaning against a table opposite the bed with a clipboard and papers in hand, Dr. Blake watched him come around.
"You lost a lot of blood last night, you should be recovering for a week with the damage that bullet caused."
Luke gave him a weary expression; "I work out." he managed.
Blake chuckled, "Good morning Mr. Charles, I'm doctor Donald Blake. I'd like to ask you how a respectable high-school teacher like you wound up with a bullet in your chest, and beaten to a pulp in an alley?"
Luke hesitated to respond, his breathing still labored. "I was.. *cough* I was in the parking lot after school, and a… a boy, Kevin, from one of my classes was being cornered by some local thugs, 'bout five of them."
Dr. Blake's face grimaced, coming away from the table he used his cane to help him over to the bedside.
"He was a good kid;" Luke continued, "So I knew he must have been in trouble. I approached to try and get him away, but they got between me and Kevin. They held me back while the alpha took a few shots at him, and stole his backpack. I probably should have just stayed there to help Kevin, but once they all fled, I pursued them down the street to get the bag back.
I caught up to them in an alley, in there they finally turned on me. I'm no slouch you understand, and when they came at me, I was able to fight my way through 'em. Their leader was the last one standing, and when he realized he was in for a taste of his own medicine, he got scared, pulled out a gun, and shot me.
I went down, and the rest of 'em got their licks in. The last thing I remember is holding my chest and them kicking me."
Dr. Blake thought for a moment. The man laying in the bed before him was of exceptional character, if not just in exceptional physical condition.
"Well, you're good Samaritan effort paid off. Turns out it was Kevin who found you and called 9-1-1. He saved your life."
Luke closed his eyes and smiled, "I knew he was a good kid."
"Anyway," Blake continued, looking down and flipping through the papers on the clipboard, "Kevin gave the police a description of the men, and they're being looked for now. As for you… The bullet didn't damage anything vital, and you can be released on your own volition tomorrow, as soon as your feeling up to it. You did lose a lot of blood, so I recommend you stay the night."
Luke rolled his head to the side, settling in and getting comfortable. "Sounds good then Doc."
The next afternoon, Dr. Blake and Mr. Charles exited the hospital, Donald holding the door open for Luke.
Luke held a hand to his chest as he stepped outside. "I can't thank you enough Doc, for picking-up some cloths for me, and giving me a ride home. You really go above and beyond don't you?"
Blake smiled as they made their way through the parking lot, "I don't consider my job done until the patient is back home. And please, just Donald."
"Well Donald, next time I get in over my head, or I'm just having a barbecue, I'll know who to call."
They shared a chuckle, before a voice stopped them.
"Hey old man."
Donald and Luke turned to see a group of five young black men approaching them, dressed in nearly stereotypical street thug baggy clothes.
"Is this them?" Donald whispered into Luke's ear.
"Yeah." he confirmed.
The leader of the gang spat to the side, "Heard you was still kickin'. Heard the cops was lookin' for us."
Luke tried to step forward but he doctor's hand across his chest held him back. Taking a deep breath, Donald took a few steps toward the men.
"Gentlemen, there's no need for-"
The leader lashed-out and backhanded Dr. Blake, knocking him to his knees, where another of the gang kicked the cane out of his hand.
"My cane!" Donald yelled as he reached for his tool, but a swift kick to the side of his head put him on his back.
Luke's teeth clenched in rage, "You boys waste your time playing at being tough, think roaming around beating people makes you some big-shot."
One of the thugs came to stand in front of him, almost nose-to-nose, but he was unafraid. "But you got no idea what tough is."
The thug snarled, and put both hands on Luke's chest to shove him back, but a short right hook hitting at the back of his jaw dropped him before he could draw his arms back.
Luke stood there as his attacker fell to the ground, his face smacking into the pavement.
Two of the others rushed forward and seized Luke by the arms, pinning him to a van with no little amount of effort on their part. A third came up, and after fighting through Luke's kicking legs, began a series of shots into his stomach.
The leader picked-up the cane, slapping it into the palm of his hand.
"you're gonna learn to mind yo' own business!"
He approached the downed doctor Blake, his arm raised above his head, ready to bring the cane down violently.
At the last moment, Luke broke free of the lackey's hold, throwing his body between them just far enough to grab the other end of the cane, and wrench it free.
As all four of the thugs turned their fury on Luke, the cane clattered to the ground, inches away from Blake.
The sound stirred Donald to open his eyes, and he saw his patient being pummeled by blow after blow from their attackers. The cane between him and the fray, and reaching out, clenched his fist onto it. Turning the stick vertical, he struck it against the pavement.
A booming thunderclap blew the four criminals off their feet, and a column of light descended from the sky, and sent a pulse of energy outward.
His lips busted, and forehead scraped, Luke couldn't understand what he was seeing as he tried to hold himself off the ground, looking to where Doctor Blake had been laying, but was now engulfed in the glowing pillar. "What?"
All five of the thugs began to get to their feet, not just astonished, but terrified by the supernatural event before them. A booming voice spoke.
"Thou craven lot would attack the injured and crippled? Such cowardice is worthy of a swift and exacting penance. So tell me…"
The pillar faded, and where Blake had been now stood a tall man, rippling with muscles, long blond hair, and dressed in scale armor and a flowing red cap. Donning his head was a metal helmet, bearing flared bird wings on either side. And in his hand was not a cane, but a short handled heavy-headed sledge hammer.
The thugs gawked at him, not believing in the chiseled figure standing before them.
"Who is first to face justice at the hand of Thor?"
Cautiously, the leader got to his feet, glancing among his men, not wanting to show fear in front of them. He met Thor's eyes, but looked away, unable to match his nerve to the task.
Thor grinned. "ah, the leader of the band rises to the challenge! You may take the first blow against the prince of Asgard, but make it a good one."
The leader's breathing became rapid as he screwed his courage. He took a knife from the back of his pants, and charged. He held the handle with the blade down, and slammed it into Thor's neck. But the knife was deflected off the skin, and wound-up cutting himself. Holding his bleeding hand, the leader gazed up at Thor, his lips quivering, his eyes wide in terror.
"A valiant effort." Thor commended, before smacking the man with an open palm, and sending him flying into the back of an SUV. "But lacking."
With their pack alpha dispatched, the other four men scrambled to get away, climbing over themselves in the process.
"You too will taste the bite of Mjolnir!" Thor said, leveling his hammer in their direction. Four bolts of lightning shot out from the weapon, striking each of them in the back and dropping them where they stood.
Luke Charles stared at his former doctor with amazement, the shadow of the hero falling over him. Thor turned and knelt down to speak with him, "Your bravery Luke Charles, has saved us this day. For if not for your courage, we both mayhaps have been slain. Lay on your back."
Too stunned to object, Luke rolled onto his back, and Thor placed Mjolnir over his breast bone. Before his very eyes, the hammer glowed with a soft blue nimbus, and he felt a calming warmth flow throughout his body. After a few moments, the pain from the beatings and the gunshot had subsided, his wounds ceased bleeding.
Thor took his hammer away, and held out a hand to help Luke to his feet.
"Know this mortal, thou and the healer Donald Blake share a special bond: for he hath shed his blood to keep thee alive, the blood of Thor Odinson courses through thy veins. We are blood brothers you and I, for we owe to each other our lives. Should thee ever be in grave danger again, you may call upon me with this."
Producing a small dagger from the side of his boot, Thor handed it to Luke.
"Use this to draw the blood we share, and I will answer."
"Thank you." was all Luke could muster as Thor stood back.
"Stay strong in the ways of valor and honor, Luke Charles, teacher of the young."
Thor raised Mjolnir, and began spinning it above his head. The column of light came down once more to surround the Asgardian, and after a moment, it faded to reveal Dr. Blake.
The two men stood a few feet from each other, looking around at the still unconscious gangsters.
Finally, Luke broke the silence, "I thought doctors were supposed to 'do no harm'?"
Donald merely shrugged; "Thor's not a doctor."