"Get those couches up here!" The door shook again under the heavy blows as Jay kept his shoulder pressed against the metal frame. On the opposite side, two more of his fellow students were doing their best to hold the glass door shut from the gathering horde on the other side. It had taken the three of them to shove the small group zombies out of the main entrance to the Empire State Science Building, and now, it took the three of them to keep the double doors shut. In the course of a few moments, what had been four zombies had quickly blossomed into double digits, the central common of the school flooding with ghouls.
"...that's Professor Robinson," Jay's friend said, as the Criminology Professor pushed his torn face against the glass, snapping at the prize just out of reach. "I just had lecture with..."
"COUCHES, NOW!" Jay's feet slid on the tile floor of the Science Building's lobby as he tried to brace himself, to no avail. The glass rattled under the steady assault, fists slamming against the doors. Behind the students, the lobby was filled with scared teens and young adults, paralyzed with fear. No one moved as Jay screamed for help, rooted in place as they saw their inescapable fate on the other side. "Come on, somebody, give me a hand..."
The glass door in front of Jay cracked. A small one, at Jay's eye level...and as the zombie in an ESU rent-a-cop's outfit hit the glass again, the crack spread in both directions. "Oh, no," Jay whispered as each impact saw the glass grow more fragile, tines spreading out in a spider web. Still, he kept his post, his hand now on the door's edges. "Everyone, get moving..."
Before he could finish the sentence, the rent-a-cop flew away.
For a second, Jay thought he was watching Ms. Marvel or the Sentry take off into the air. The rent-a-cop sailed into the air, arcing towards the common, away from the building. And then the zombie who had been next to the cop was blown backwards as well, being flung into the air as opposed to leaping. Within moments, the first line of zombies had been scattered, each of them tossed into the air like a leaf on the wind.
"What the hell," Jay heard one of his friends mumble.
"Dude, keep the door shut!" Jay was surprised as well, but the second line of ghouls was almost at the glass, ready to pick up where their colleagues had left off. In front of Jay, directly on the opposite side of the crack, a one-armed girl in a track outfit, blood smeared all over her bright orange warning vest, was about to slam into the door with her entire body, with maybe just enough to force to shatter the glass and let the mob inside, putting the students at their non-existent mercy.
That fear ended, though, as a metal tube drove down into the girl's head.
Jay flinched, stepping away from the door, as a long, thick, silver cylinder snapped, and the girl's now-lifeless-for-real body went sailing into the grass. On the other side, a second tube did the same thing to a guy wearing a Pi Theta Beta fraternity cap, flinging him away from the building. "Dude, what the hell," his friend said again. "Is that a robot or something?"
"Whatever it is, it's on the side of the building." The tubes were striking down from the ledge that ran above the main entrance to the Science Building, punching into the brains of the zombies through the tops of their skulls before throwing them into the air. Soon, the front of the building was free of the undead, their bodies instead scattered, motionless, across the green lawn just outside. As the last zombie came to rest, the two cylinders reached down once again. Instead of slicing through the air, they gently came to a rest on the concrete sidewalk, wavering slightly. They weren't solid metal cylinders, Jay noticed, but segmented...tentacles.
"Back up." Jay reached out, and put his arm across his nearby friend's chest. "Dude, back up..."
"Why? What are those things?"
"You're from out of town," Jay said, slowly stepping away from the door, his friends moving with him. "You don't know who those belong to."
Once they had walked a few steps, two more tentacles reached down to come to a rest on the ground. Whatever was on the other end of the four metal cylinders soon followed, slowly lowering from its perch on the side of the building to hover in mid-air a few feet off the ground. It moved towards the glass doors, walking not on his feet, but on the four tentacles fused to his spine, thus giving him the well-known nickname, thanks to the effort of the Daily Bugle.
In a white suit and a thick pair of glasses, the pudgy, brown-haired scientist pushed open the door to the Science Building, and, now on foot, walked inside. One of his tentacles reached back and shut the door behind him, and another reared up over his shoulder. At the tentacle's end, three claws slowly snapped together around a red glow that emanated from the "eye" at the center of the claws.
The scientist was looking around the lobby, his eyes obscured by the thick glasses. The students had pulled together now, the unknown, alien threat of the zombies a lesser fear then the villain who stood in their midst now. It was Jay who finally broke the silence. His one step forward caught the attention of the tentacle on the man's shoulder. It slowly moved forward, studying the student, like a snake observing its prey. "What do you want, Doctor?"
Otto Octavius, otherwise known as Doctor Octopus, turned to face Jay. The ESU student stopped himself from taking a step backwards as the former instructor laid his gaze upon him. "Young man, I'm here because there is science to be done," he claimed. "Where are the faculty of this school? The sooner we begin our study of this phenomenon, the sooner we can bring it to an end."
Jay couldn't pull his gaze from Doc Ock's, but behind him, he could hear the student murmuring to themselves. The tentacle wavering over Octavius' shoulder slowly turned to face him. The claws on the end tapped together as both man and machine studied Jay.
Finally, much to Jay's relief, someone spoke up. "Most of us were here for a night time O-Chem class, Doctor. The professor never showed up, and then all the screaming started. We don't know if there's anyone else here."
An angry sigh escaped the bespectacled villain. "Of course. Very well, then. Until they deem themselves scientists and face the unknown, we shall do without them. You!"
The tentacle facing Jay whipped over his shoulder, passing by the young man. He heard the clicking behind him as Doc Ock spoke. "Does Professor Varenwyck still have his laboratory in this building? Very well. You five, go to his office with all haste and obtain the fast-acting experimental resin he's been working on. We will use it to reinforce the doors on the molecular level to be as strong as adamantium. Move together, and do not wander out of each other's sight! You five, Professor Tanzos has welding equipment in his office. We will weld the steel doors shut and barricade the entrances. And as for you, young man..." The doctor was just inches from Jay's face now. "...today is Wednesday, right?" All Jay could do was barely move his head to nod, staring at a man who was the very example of a mad scientist.
"Good," Octavius responded. "The deli on the fifth floor usually is restocked on Wednesdays. We'll have enough food to last us for a bit if we ration it. You, young man, are in charge of that rationing. Do you understand?"
"Yeah...I mean...yes, Doctor."
"And thank you, young man, for calling me 'Doctor' instead of 'Doc.' It gives me hope for the future of academia." Ray took the praise as an excuse to quickly remove himself from the scientist's presence. He took his two friends and moved towards the elevators.
Behind the retreating student, Otto Octavius allowed himself a small smile. "Just because the world ends is no excuse to hide behind locked doors and let ignorance reign," he proclaimed to himself...and the other students still left in the lobby, trying to come to grips with the fact that this madman had saved their lives. "If Herman Schultz can indulge in street-level heroics, then Otto Octavius will boldly climb his ivory tower and save humanity from the very heavens of knowledge!"
X
"Your men must be firm and resolute in their duties. Luckily, the New York City Police Department is the finest police organization in the world, as I have unfortunately experienced firsthand."
"It's gonna be a tough run," Sergeant Steven Armes said as he looked out the second story window overlooking Rockefeller Plaza. "I don't like your odds. If those weren't my boys sitting out there, I'd have put the kibosh in this whole scheme."
"Fidelis ad Mortem," he told the policeman. "And beyond, in this brand new day." The man gently pushed open the front door to 30 Rock. The air was thankfully fresh. The Sergeant was standing next to the man in a large green costume, broad in shoulders and complete with a flowing purple cape. This might be the only bad guy or superhero left who insisted on using a cape. When pressed, the movie buff simply called it "part of my carefully constructed image."
And a useful weapon, Armes had observed, to trip and entangle the slow moving zombies.
Outside the front door, zombies stumbled about the world famous plaza, moving past the flags and statues that had enthralled tourists for decades. At the end of the plaza, though, just off 5th Avenue, a large crowd of ghouls were clawing and scratching at a NYPD police van that had simply run out of gas. A van that held not only 10 members of a NYPD SWAT team, but crates containing several thousand rounds of precious ammunition that were essential to keeping 30 Rockefeller Center secure until someone came to pick them up. Being so close to Central Park, Armes figured they would have been first on the list, but two days after Osborn's announcement, all he had heard on the radio was to "sit tight." The 30-plus members of the New York City Police, along with the assistance of Fishbowl Head (his unofficial nickname among the authorities, though no one said it to his face anymore) had turned the place into a fortress. After sitting tight for two days waiting for rescue, now they were turning into the rescuers. It was a tough run, and the toughest part would be the clearing the mob around the van long enough for this guy to pour enough gas, harvested from the generators in the basement, into the tank so the van could make the final push to the loading dock on the side of the building.
"My men are ready to cover you," Armes told him. "You just better be quick on those fireworks. You sure they'll do the trick?"
Behind his round helmet, Quentin Beck, the Master of Illusion known as Mysterio, smiled. "My dear man, tricks are something a hooker does for money. Or cocaine. My misdirection will see me safe to your men, and I shall bring them back to you. You have my solemn pledge."
"Look at you, Mysterio. Risking your life for a couple of cops. Guess you're taking a page out of Shocker's book, huh?"
"Shocker? My dear man, to compare a virtuoso like me to a simple thug like Schultz is to compare Orson Welles to Tony Scott!"
"Hey, didn't he direct 'Man on Fire?' I liked that movie."
"The original was much better," the movie buff said as he got ready to step outside.
X
"I'm not saying I don't trust you, but it's just that, I don't trust you."
"I can't really blame you." Arthur Parks crossed his arms, floating in the air the ground in front of his opposite number, who was also floating. "But you could use the assistance, and I...I want to help. I can travel at the speed of light. I'm intangible. And, from what I've seen, you could use the extra firepower and manpower right now."
"Why would you want to help, Parks?" War Machine and the Living Laser traded comments 100 feet above the waters of the East River. "Last time we tried to help you, my boss ended up locking you away for murder, after he gave you a job."
"Ok, War Machine, I made an error in judgment. A miscalculation. And now I'm attempting to fix that mistake. I'm not asking for a job around high tech equipment or industrial secrets. I just want to help and do my part to save people."
"What? You saw the Rhino and the Shocker on YouTube, and figured you'd grab a piece of the spotlight? That's damn hard for me to swallow, Parks."
"You're missing the point of that video, War Machine. It's not about the spotlight. It's about the simple act of saving humanity. I know enough about those two individuals to know that they tend to exist under the radar. If two low-level criminals are will to risk their lives in order to help total strangers, then what kind of man would that make me, who's practically invincible to these ghouls that are infecting the world, if I sat by and did nothing? Whatever type of man that is, War Machine, I do not wish to be him."
War Machine hovered in place, weighing Living Laser's words for a few seconds. Maybe he was telling the truth. Parks' light-based body made it impossible for his bio-scanners to determine if he was lying. The one thing Parks had in his favor? He had gotten the drop on a distracted War Machine as he swooped under the Whitestone Bridge, and didn't pull the proverbial trigger. Instead, he had hailed the armor-clad hero and wanted to talk. That definitely added one to the "positive" side of the ledger.
"Alright, Arthur. There's a Red Cross boat coming in and docking at Roosevelt Island. Help me keep an eye on things, and we'll see how it goes from there." Without waiting for an answer, War Machine took off to the north. After a few seconds, he peeked over his right shoulder, taking note of the green-and-white form keeping up with him.
X
"Oh, this is just delicious." The man formerly known as Bentley Wittman was doing his best to keep the boisterous laughter inside of him from erupting, but a few wry chuckles escaped. "You're asking me for help. The supposed smartest man in the world has, after all these years, finally deemed the Wizard worthy of matching his intellect! I wish you allowed cameras within your lab, because I really want to have a picture of this very moment."
"I have the same wish," the rocky voice spoke from the corner. "A picture of me smashing your face would look great on my fridge."
"Ben, please...tact," he gently told his orange friend. The Wizard's megalomania didn't hold a candle to Victor Von Doom's, Reed Richards noted, but the man still had to be coaxed along. "Bentley..."
"Wizard. My name is legally the Wizard." The villain wagged a finger at the scientist. "Copyrights and trademarks, as you know very well."
"...Wizard, yes, I could use your assistance. You've shown the ability to control human minds with your devices. I'm interested in seeing if that technology could be applied to reanimated bodies."
The Wizard scratched his chin. "Really. Do these things posses brain waves?"
"Of the most rudimentary sort," Richards replied, "just a little better then a coma patient. But there's no doubt the brain is the central point of activity. Anything that might affect those brain waves can only help humanity in fighting back."
"Of course, of course...hmm..." Reed kept quiet as the long time foe of the Fantastic Four worked the problem over in his brain. "...your theory holds water, Richards. I've found that simpler patterns are easily more susceptible to my control. I would be willing to show you how my devices work, Richards, on two conditions."
Mister Fantastic nodded. "Name them."
"One, I work beside you. You won't just take my technology and do what you please with it."
"Fine. And the second condition, Wizard?"
A smile slowly stretched across the villain's face. "This one is much simpler. Beg."
"Oh, for the love of Aunt Petunia." Ben Grimm cracked his rocky knuckles together, taking one step forward. "That's it, brainiac, I'm gonna..."
"You lay one hand on me, Grimm, and you'll never see a single circuit board." The Wizard's eyes never left the face of the leader of the Fantastic Four. "How badly do you want to save humanity, Richards? Badly enough to admit emotional defeat? I've ports to weather this storm should I choose. You...and your family, both blood and extended...do you wish to save them on a level that will allow you to swallow your pride and beg for my help?"
Reed may have been wrong. Apparently the Wizard could hold a candle to Doom.
"Forget this guy, Stretch." Grimm shrugged his shoulders, waving a dismissive hand at the former Wittman. "This goon ain't worth the time. You could probably find eighty other eggheads who can do just as good a job as this bum!"
"Hardly, granitehead," the Wizard replied with a snarl.
"No...Ben is correct, Wizard." Richards looked over his shoulder at his long time friend. "There's plenty of people out there who, with the proper application of time and effort, could easily duplicate your technology. Hank Pym, for one. Abner Jenkins, for another." Wizard scoffed as Richards continued. "Henry McCoy's free."
"Hey, Reed, what about Herman Schultz?"
"Hmm...that would be an interesting partnership, Ben." Now Richards scratched his chin, returning the smile back at the villain. "The man's obviously a skilled engineer from what we've seen. Those gauntlets he wears looked very impressive on television."
"Shocker? That miscreant isn't fit to wipe the equations off of my whiteboard! And you'd dare pick him over an intellect like mine? Bah! The fact you'd even bring up his name show just how desperate you are, Richards. Take me to your lab, and I'll show you how a true genius works!"
As Richards motioned for the Wizard to follow him, he saw the quiet smile on the face of the orange rock man, and responded with a wink before leading his foe back towards his work area.
X
"Desperate times calls for desperate measures, Charles."
"I know, my friend." Scott Summers rolled the wheelchair of Charles Xavier across the Academy's lawn towards the men that Scott had spent nearly his entire life fighting. His mentor addressed the leader of the group, clad in scarlet metal armor. "I do recognize the sacrifice of your beliefs that had led you here today, Eric, even if I have never held to them myself."
"It is not a sacrifice," Magneto countered, "it is simply their reapplication to a changing set of circumstances. For the first time that I can recall in human history, there is an enemy who does not wish to enslave the conquered, or annex vast tracts of land, or establish their ideological supremacy. They wish to simply eat their victims, until there is nothing left of humanity or mutantkind. Humanity has chosen to stand and fight, when even someone like the Rhino and his partner risk their lives for complete strangers. Mutants must do the same, and present a united front in the process. Now is the time to prove our worth to humans, be it as their protectors, or their saviors."
"In either case, Eric, I would rather have you fighting beside my X-Men."
"Great and all, governor." The green form squatting by Magneto's side stared at Summers. "Question is, you and yours gonna make sure we ain't caught in the crossfire, takin' advantage of pickin' some of us off?"
Cyclops responded in his crisp, almost-military tone. "Just like you, Toad, I can pick off a fly at 50 feet without hitting anyone else. So don't worry about us. Worry about your own team."
"Anyone who lays a hand upon an X-Man in anger will answer to me directly, Scott. On that, you have my word," Magneto said.
"In that case then, Eric...we have an accord." And with one firm handshake, the Brotherhood of Mutants and the X-Men joined forces.
X
The zombie was still snapping at him even as he pushed his sawblade into the thing's forehead. Decaying flesh and splinters of bone flew into the air as the weapon slice away the thing's head, but it still glared, snarling and biting for the figure at the end of the arm pinning it to the wall. It was only when the jagged edge caught the brain matter underneath the skull that the zombie went limp. Its eyes rolled back in its skull, and the hands reaching for him slumped to the sides.
"Whirlwind, everyone's out! Time to blow this pop stand!"
"On it." The Emerald Eviscerator let the zombie drop to the ground. It had been the last of the zombies that had plagued the Emergency Room of St. Luke's hospital. Most of them were splattered up and down the central corridor, victims of Whirlwind's unique style of attack. Long splashed of blood adorned the white walls, and a mix of limbs and torsos were laid out on the green tile floor. Several of the arms were still attached to their owners, twitching and shaking at the still-animated bodies tried to fulfill whatever primal need drove them. "Dead enough," Whirlwind decided. He stepped over several of the bodies, kicking off a clutching hand at one point, and walked out into the central loading area of the ER.
His partner, assigned to work with him by the Initiative, was currently "reloading" from a nearby water main. Hearing the noise behind him, the red-haired villain turned. "We good?"
"We're good, Aqueduct." Whirlwind held out his green-armored hand. The buzzsaw on the end was red along the edges, with small white bits of brain caught on the end of the teeth. "Mind giving me a blast? I hate walking around with a bloody weapon."
"Sure." Aqueduct raised his arm, and from the nozzle attached to his uniform, a high-pressure stream of water impacted the metal weapon. It spun in place on Whirlwind's forearm, the gore dripping away to the ground. "Everyone's out?"
"Everyone's out. The last bite patient was loaded up. They're taking them up to the Baxter Building for observation." The jet of water ended, leaving slightly pink water to drip off the buzzsaw. "They want us back at Central Park for debriefing and a bit of downtime, ASAP."
"I'm all about the ASAP," Whirlwind told the hydromancer. "Grab on, I'll fly us back." Aqueduct grabbed onto Whirlwind's hands, gripping tightly as the green metal gloves closed around him. The first time Whirlwind had taken to the air, Aqueduct's only thought had been how quickly he could create a pool of water to safely land in if he dropped. Now, though, it was almost, key word being almost, old hat.
Air swirled around Whirlwind's legs, and soon, the pair took off into the air, 25 feet above Manhattan. "You want to go straight back up the highway, or swing out over the river," Aqueduct asked his "pilot" for the evening.
"Up the highway," Whirlwind answered. He readjusted his grip on Aqueduct's hands, and propelled the pair into the night, green air swirling around his lower body. "There's a better chance of finding someone who might be in trouble on the island."
"Look at us..." Aqueduct chuckled, keeping his gaze on the road below. Crashed cars and the occasional dead body occupied what were once busy city streets. "Cruising for civilians to save. Seriously, the next time I see Herman, I'm going to smack him for instilling me with this sudden sense of altruism."
"Hey...there are advantages," Whirlwind said. "Figure, I play the hero long enough, look good, save a couple of civilians...maybe Janet Van Dyne will finally notice me."
"Oh, Christ, Cannon, do you have issues..."
X
"Frozen, James, finish em off!"
"Last one!" Speed Demon swung the shovel around like a baseball player going for the fences. The sharp edge easily slid into the temple of the zombie, and kept right on going, 140 miles per hour worth of momentum slicing the top of its skull clean off. The cap of hair and bone bounced neatly on the street as the zombie hunched over at the waist. It "stood" there as it came to rest, unable to drop to the ground as the thick slab of ice around its feet held it in place.
"Whew..." His arms were sore, but the adrenaline pumping through Speed Demon's body at the moment almost made it all worthwhile. "Never gonna complain again about how much A-Rod makes. How many was that?"
"Forty-three," Blizzard replied, "give or take a few." All the way up the block, zombies were bent at the waist, some forward, toes going to the ground like they were stretching, and some backwards from the impact of the specialized weapon. "Nice work."
"Yeah. It's nice when they're stationary targets. How you holding up, Donald?"
"Oh, the usual. I'm sore, tired, and just plain scared, James," Blizzard told his long time friend. "All things considered...I'd rather be somewhere else."
"Hey, don't knock it. We're a damn good team. We have to be pushing about 300 kills by now? Line them up, knock them down. Damn good team."
"Yeah, you know who else was a good team? Bonnie and Clyde. That ended well."
Speed Demon shook his head. "Jesus, Donald...well, if that's the case? You're Bonnie."
"Like hell I am," Blizzard protested. "You're Bonnie! I mean, you're the one in a skintight outfit showing off every damn curve..."
"It's for wind resistance...and why the hell are you looking at every curve on my body, Donald?"
"Because I'm sick of looking at your ass all day, James. If you'd just sit down once in a while and firmly pressed a couch cushion against your butt, maybe it'd shut you up."
"Wow, Donald. That was a long way to go..."
A single gunshot rang out from an adjoining block. Speed Demon and Blizzard immediately turned, bodies tense for action...until a high-pitched voice squeaked out with pride.
"ONE!"
"Damn it...I was hoping the zombies took care of him," Blizzard groused.
Another gun shot. "TWO!"
"We wouldn't be that lucky. Guys like him never, ever die. Punisher should have spared Stilt-Man and shot him," Speed Demon replied.
Bang. Bang. "THREE! FOUR! FOUR DEAD GHOULIES, MU WAA HAH HAH!"
"I'll give him this...the guy's good with guns. Better he's working with us then against us," Blizzard countered. "Just...that voice. And the way he talks...the guy's just WEIRD."
"Yeah, no wonder Captain America smiled when we all got assigned together. War hero or not, the bastard owes us one for making us put up with the idiot..."
"Five! No, wait, I did it wrong..."
Bang.
"Five!"
"...and as far as I'm concerned..."
Bang. "Six! Looks out, ladies, your friendly neighborhood psychopath is coming to your cul-de-sac with a whole bunch of Girl Scout cookies!"
"...that something is a date with She-Hulk," Speed Demon finished, as their partner finally came into view. He was walking backwards, two guns pointing down the street. Crossed swords adorned the back of his red-and-black outfit. Speed Demon couldn't make out what he was shooting at, but whatever it was, the man's voice was filled with what could only be described as hyperactive glee.
Four more shots rang out into the New York night air. "Seven...eightnineten! Yes! C-C-C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!" Spinning his pistols for a moment, the figure shoved them back into the holsters on his hips, and turned to face his partners in crime. "Flash! Captain Cold! How stands the Union tonight?"
Speed Demon shook his head sadly. Behind him, Blizzard managed to maintain some level of decorum. "Forty-three. Block looks pretty clear to us."
"Outstanding, gentlemen. Now, all we need to do is go to Walgreen's, get some supplies, and...wait..." The red-and-black clad figure put a finger to the lips on his mouthless mask. "No, that's an earlier part of the story. Where are we now? Oh, yeah, we're near the middle. Sorry. I get confused in all this excitement."
"Whatever," Speed Demon groused. "What's out next move?"
"Getting you some better writers, for one," the man with the mouth replied. "This Chris Myers guy is a hack! How about Patrick Zircher...nice fill-in guy...Warren Ellis, but he just ain't your style. Mark Warren DEFINITELY ain't your style, even if you're trying to rock the Empowered look with that suit. Geoff Johns and zombies is cliché by now, and if there's one thing the Bullpen doesn't do, it's clichés. Nah, we'll get Mark Waid to work with you, do a limited series. He knows speedsters. No, wait...I can see it now. 'Dark Reign: Quicksilver!' We'll get Andy Diggle, he owes me a favor..."
"Just...please...shut...up." James drew out every word, his hands clenching as the high-pitched voice squeaked and rambled. "We're here to do a job. Let's just do that job, ok? Quietly."
"Hey, Professor Zoom, I'm here to do a job, too! Just by putting me in this story, you're gonna see a bump in positive reviews, thumbs up, and five-star ratings. Stick with me, Johnny Quick, I'm gonna make you a star!"
"What story? What the hell are you talking about," Speed Demon said.
"Come on! Everyone loves throwing me into the middle of an action scene! Guns, booze, babes...and Donnie's right, you're so Bonnie in your bro-mance...I'm like Wolverine. Put me on the cover and watch those sales skyrocket!"
"My head's going to explode..." James mumbled.
"Now, now, no Electro's. You're gonna make it to the end of the story, James."
Pause.
"Or will you? Now, as for me...well, that's up to the people reading at home! Hey, kids? Enjoying the fact that the Merc with a Mouth has been shoved into a Shocker story for absolutely no reason whatsoever? Well, you can do something about it! Just pick up the phone or send in those Hostess Filling UPC's, and don't forget... vote for 'Deadpool/Squirrel Girl' in 2012, or I'll shoot this mercenary!"
"Why the hell does he have a gun pointed at his head," Blizzard asked his friend.
"Shhhh. Let's see where he's going with this..."