Mrs. Libbitz's apartment: Flushing, Queens
"Thank you for the coffee and the chat, Mrs. Libbitz," Fury said, putting his cup and saucer down with a clink. "Your coffeecake is first rate. There must be law enforcement in your family: the way you bake!"
The old woman nodded. "My late husband-bless his soul-was a firefighter. My older sister's second husband's daughter's son was NYPD, and my younger brother and his eldest served in the National Guard. I still go to all of the picnics and auctions, of course, and my cake is all the rage."
"I can see why," Fury said brightly. He stood up a little stiffly. "Oof: I'm full. Well, Mrs. Libbitz, thank you for your help. I'm sure when this is all settled you and Miss Sauer will have a lot to talk about. Just do me a favor, will you?" He looked over his shoulder at the closed door, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "Don't tell Miss Sauer which one of us spilled the beans about Gavin Locke. You know how she values her privacy."
The old woman's eyes widened and she nodded sagely. "I understand, Mr. Fury. You can count on me!"
"Always honor your elders, my gran used to say, and..."
A strong knock interrupted Fury's pontificating, and he frowned as the old woman started. "I can get that, if you like," he said with a professional air. "My boys might be a little rough around the edges with civilians, but they won't give me any trouble."
"Thank you, Mr. Fury," the grey curls bobbed appreciatively.
Fury crossed to the door and yanked it open. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel in HazMat suits hesitated for a moment when he glared down at them, only speaking when the Director cleared his throat.
"Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we found a biohazard..."
"And you couldn't wait until I left the unit to debrief me on this?"
"No, sir," the younger scientist said, sweating a little. "We couldn't. The building is being evacuated, and the CDC is on their way. Everyone but the Aesir is being quarantined and immunized, and a professional cleanup crew is coming in."
"What for?"
"Yersinia pestis, sir," the older scientist said abruptly. "Miss Sauer's apartment was dusted with it."
Fury scowled at the Latin. "Oh, hell no..."
"I'm afraid so, sir. We need to get you and your hostess into isolation and treatment right way."
"Mr. Fury...what is it?" Behind him, Mrs. Libbitz' voice was rising with her concerns. "What's happening?"
"We have to go to the hospital, Mrs. Libbitz," Fury said in his best police-officer-who-must-be-obeyed voice. "Your neighbor's apartment was deliberately contaminated with a serious disease, and we all need to be immunized against it. Whoever did this..."
"But Mr. Fury! I've never been sick! Ask anyone! Not so much as a cold! And I can't leave my plants! They're my babies, and they'll die without me! And..."
"Ma'am," the young man in the HazMat suit said firmly, "This is Yersinia pestis we're dealing with, not the flu."
"Well I don't care one way or the other what sort of sinful pest you found in Miss Sauer's place! You can't just make me leave my house..."
"Mrs. Libbitz," Fury turned to the old woman gently, "Yersinia pestis causes the Plague."
Mrs. Libbitz closed her mouth with a squeak, and was hustled off without fuss by personnel in lab coats.
Fury's phone rang.
"Director Fury." A squabble of sound from the other end made him scowl. "What, NOW? Oh, hell. Send Rogers out with his strike team to clean this up. Put Romonov with Rogers as back-up; she can handle the electronics. And inform Pierce. Fury out." He closed his phone with a snap and stared at it before shoving it into his pocket. "Damnation."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
S.H.I.E.L.D. secure holding facility: Barrow, Alaska
"Reporting for duty, Captain," a diminutive brown-haired, sallow-skinned scientist-type spoke into a microphone and slid a large overstuffed manila envelope into the document feed, which carried it to the S.H.I.E.L.D. gatekeeper. Behind him stood an older man with strong German features and a receding hairline, loaded down with suitcases. "Here's our orders."
"Sergeant," she corrected, pulling the envelope from the tray.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I am a Master Sergeant, Dr..." she paused to look at the envelope for his name.
"Sterns."
"Dr. Sterns. Right. Officers do not sit at welcome kiosks, Doctor. Menial tasks are for enlisted people, such as I. You will not find anyone here lower than S.H.I.E.L.D. Level 7 operatives, or US Army Master Sergeants." The stiff brunette pointed to the insignia on her right arm. "Three up, three down, and a diamond in the middle indicates..."
"The end of an inning?" Dr. Sterns said brightly.
The woman in uniform smiled briefly. "I like Robin Williams, too, Doctor." She opened the envelope, removed its contents, and ran them through a scanner. "If you are a fan, you will be pleased to know we have his entire collection on file. Now, if you gentlemen will place your right palms on the scanner next to the door..."
"Rules, rules, rules," Dr. Sterns said breezily. "You heard the lady, Karl. Let us get this over with, shall we? I see a coffeepot on the other side of that window."
"But of course," the older man said in a heavy German accent. He dropped the suitcases and stripped off heavy gloves to place one palm on the proffered glass.
Behind the Master Sergeant the scanner began to shake and hum. Security lights triggered, her computer flashed red, and somewhere down the hallway a klaxon sounded.
"What the hell?" The Sergeant reached for an alarm bell, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.
She looked up, startled. She had not triggered the doorway, but it stood ajar, and the bitterly cold air rushing past it carried the acrid smell of ruined electronics. She reached for her sidearm with her free hand even as she struggled to free herself from Dr. Sterns' grip, but blinked in shock as her gun upholstered and floated away, into 'Karl's' waiting hands. Her eyes widened in horror as it field-stripped itself, the pieces falling uselessly onto the tile. Her free hand was suddenly, desperately busy, clawing Dr. Sterns' other hand from her mouth.
"Now, now," chided Dr. Sterns, "don't be rude. We are cold and hungry and would really enjoy some coffee." The Sergeant watched in horror as Doctor Samuel Sterns shifted from a mousey-looking nerd into a large, green humanoid with an expanded skull. "Isn't that right, Karl?"
"I prefer tea, actually," the large German said smoothly. He examined the wide-eyed military woman as one would a laboratory animal. "We should kill this one," he offered coldly.
"Don't be harsh, Mordy..."
"You know I despise that term, Dr. Sterns..."
"Very well, Karl. Surely you realize that without our individual staffs present, we shall have to make do with available personnel for menial tasks?"
"Ah, you make a good point, Doctor," the German clipped. He stepped forward and grabbed the bridge of the Master Sergeant's nose with his still-glowing right hand. She struggled for a moment, until the glow reached her eyes, and then went limp. "That is much better. You may release her now, Dr. Sterns."
The Leader released the Master Sergeant, and the firm body relaxed into a 'parade rest' stance.
"I await your orders, Master," she said flatly.
"Cancel the alarm, bring in our luggage, close the door, and call the kitchen to prepare a large meal for us and a friend," commanded the German.
"At once, Master." The sergeant hurried to comply.
"Now, isn't that better than all the aggressive posturing? Intelligent men, such as ourselves, should not have to resort to brute force to get things done." Sterns shook his now-expanded green head. "Great intelligence should be accompanied by graciousness and civility."
"And yet, here we are in this frigid wasteland looking for its exact opposite. You continue to intrigue me, Dr. Sterns. Come," Baron Mordo paused to accept a steaming mug of tea from the entranced Master Sergeant, "let us find this old friend of yours, this Ivan Blonsky."
"With all haste," Dr. Sterns agreed. "This way, I believe."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
C.O.B.R.A. secret underwater base...
"What do you make of this, Commander?" Destro motioned to the printed emails that had reached them in the last 24 hours.
"A trap, certainly. No one with power seeks to share it. I will not be so foolish as to allow GI Joe or any of their allies to neither ferret nor flush us until we are ready to be revealed," COBRA Commander sneered. "Please tell me you did not seriously consider joining forces with Director Fury! It should take more than a few northern fairy tales to shake your resolve."
Destro scowled. "I have investigated this. I have moles in more than one agency, you know; S.H.I.E.L.D. is no exception."
"Did your spies tell you anything of use," The Commander snapped, "or did they start spouting that Compliance nonsense again?"
The frown on Destro's metallic skull deepened. "You forget, Commander, that we developed that Compliance nonsense. We sold it to the highest bidder, a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative no less, 5 years ago." The Commander gave him a withering look, and he sighed. "Yes. S.H.I.E.L.D. is in serious trouble, but the upper echelons do not seem to be aware of their danger. Their entire agency is riddled with counter-intelligence and rogue agents. The agency supposedly most dedicated to global security and logistics is poised to collapse from within."
"This is cheerful news, then! If there is another incursion from beyond, and S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot muster its forces to meet the threat, the world will be ripened for our harvest. They will gladly kneel to the ones who step up to 'save the day'. "
Cobra Commander rotated his chair and pushed a single red button. The wall-board behind his desk retreated to reveal a muscular figure suspended in machinery, seemingly asleep as he floated in a viscous liquid. Countless miniaturized robots crawled over his skin.
"Did you hear the good news, Duke?" Rex cackled. "We may get to fight together again after all."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Baxter Building, Manhattan
A phone rang, and a very tired man stretched out to snap it off of the dresser.
"Hello?" Reed Richards squinted at the clock. It actually read 3:47am. Who would call him at this ungodly hour? A lot of people, he thought, and it usually meant trouble. Why did the world always need rescuing when he was trying to sleep? He passed his hands across bleary eyes and stretched his hand and head out of the room, so as to give Sue peace and quiet. He pressed the phone to his ear again; all he could hear was somebody breathing oddly, like whoever it was, was on a ventilator or...damnation. "Victor?"
"Yes, Reed: it is I. Is it true?" Victor Von Doom sounded stranger than usual.
Richards sighed and passed a super-stretched hand over his eyes. "Yes, Vick. I believe so. The invasion two years ago was real enough." He left out you were lucky to be a museum piece in Latvertia at the time. Pissing off the megalomaniac would be a bad idea. "I got some interesting tech out of the scraps, though. How did you hear about..."
"I have my ways," Victor said curtly.
"I suppose when you are king you have to know these things," Richards said dryly, and then yawned. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. I had a long day."
Von Doom chuckled just as dryly. "Not at all, Richards. I always appreciated your sense of humor, if not your morals. And you are quite correct: I DO have to look out for the welfare of my citizens. Being a king is not all I thought it would be."
"I can't even begin to imagine."
"You can, Reed; you simply refuse to. It is just as well you do not aspire to power. I understand that the Baxter Building would have been repossessed three times now, had not your wife taken over the accounting. Stick to your research, Reed, and let the capable take care of the ruling," Von Doom snapped.
"Victor, is there more to this call than political banter?" Richards was becoming annoyed. His chances of getting back to sleep shrank with every annoying word out of Dr. Doom's mouth.
The autocrat sighed. "I had to verify the tales for myself, Reed. The impossibility of an attack by a mad alien seemed just too..."
"Preposterous?"
"Yes."
"So why call me?"
"You really don't know, do you? Damnation, Reed. I know we have our differences..."
"Usually based on human rights..."
"But we only have one planet," Doom finished, cutting off the rest of Reed Richards' diatribe. "You think me mad, and perhaps you are right. I am surrounded by sycophants and leeches, and multiple agencies-on both sides of the moral spectrum-crawl about within my boarders. They seek my technological secrets when they do not fawn for my support. Why did I call you? Reed Richards," Von Doom sounded bitterly lonely, "you are the only man I trust. Do you not know this?"
Richards was stunned speechless for a moment. "Thank you, Victor," he finally managed. "So, just to be clear: Dr. Doom is 'in' to save the world?"
"Don't rub it in," Von Doom groused.
"Some of us are consulting with Stark in a few days about..."
"Count me out," Doom interrupted him. "It would be impractical to have all of our eggs in one basket. Do not be so foolish to assume that everyone who lines up with you is on your side, Richards."
"But if we all have the same goal..."
Doom groaned audibly. "Richards, you are a naive, sentimental fool. Politics 101 should have taught you: not everyone who smiles at you is your friend."
"Victor..."
"Doom out."
Reed Richards stared at the phone for a silent minute before stretching back to his bed. Sue rolled over and curled herself around him.
"That Victor?" she asked sleepily.
"Mmmm-hmmm."
"What did he want at this hour?"
"The truth."
She sat half-way up, her eyes blinking wider. "Since when?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Deep Space, above the remainders of the Reis' home planet
"Remove that panel," the dark figure said, pointing to the still-smoldering remains of the Possessor, "and tell me what you see."
"Yes, my Lord," simpered the Other. It scurried to obey, ignoring the pain on its hands from the hot metal, and peered into the belly of the machine. "The power crystals have shattered and burned; the fire damaged much of the internal components as well," it announced.
"How did this happen?" The dark figure whirled onto Thanos. "Surely you did not try to use it on this planet's core!"
Thanos spread his hands. "No, my Lord. T'was just a simple puppetry: an Aesir male and a Terran female were my subjects. All was well! I gave the Aesir Thunderer a pleasant thrashing, instilled fear into the pathetic group of 'heroes', toyed with that disappointing Jotun magician, and caused great distress. It was," Thanos smiled, "quite enjoyable. But then another Terran intruded with some un-heard-of magic, and this was the result."
"You got in through the usual channels?"
Thanos nodded curtly. "The Aesir hides some bitterness towards his king, and hates women as much as he uses them."
"Ah, misogyny. Sexist pigs make the best holiday hams," the dark figure smoked a little. "Did you harvest the piglet? I have not tasted such in some time, and a polluted Aesir soul is a rare treat."
"No, my Lord. I was interrupted by the Terran female, and had to switch hosts. She was his opposite, a misandrogist: hardly worth mentioning, but useful nonetheless."
The Shadow turned to its pupil with incredulous eyes.
"You were expelled from a bitter old maid? By what? And for what purpose? Their kind is useless even to their people! Why not strike it down? That would have made sense!"
Thanos stroked his chin. "One of their assassins did seek to kill my hostess, not that it would have helped..."
"Ah...assassins...tasty morsels..."
"Agreed. And this one in particular has a moral superiority complex and a guilty conscience...practically a Rose'..."
"You do pick the best vintage...but what happened? This," It motioned to the gutted Possessor, "is unacceptable."
"I was cast out," Thanos shrugged. "The situation is new to me. In 4,000 years and on as many planets it has never happened, so I am at a loss."
A smoky hand stroked a non-physical chin. "Hmmm. I am older than you; this has happened to me before. Did the bastard use any holy artifacts?"
"None: just words and a few gestures. It mentioned its father and its son. Is there a family of sorcerers on the planet? I should study this branch of magic, if that is the case."
The Shadow grimaced. "No. There is a Sorcerer Supreme on Terra, but this does not sound like his work." It shook a horned head. "No, this is no mere sorcery. This vermin worships the abominations you seek to eradicate: the father, the son, and the ghost. Its fellows evicted Odin and his bastards a millennium ago, and have given my kind nothing but trouble for far longer." It looked down at the simpering Other. "Can the crystals be repaired or replaced?"
"No, my Lord," the Other whined. "They were formed from the Soul Gem, and that resides in the Staff my Lord gave to Loki of Asgard. It is held on Terra. We would have to retrieve the Gem to make more crystals."
"Fortunately, I know who holds that Staff," Thanos mused. "I have my own agents on the blasted rock."
"Leave it," the Shadow shook its head. "You will not need such toys any longer. Destroy this filthy, infested snowball and you will clear the galaxy of our greatest threat. Destroy it from afar! You can shower it with meteors, can you not? Crush it! The Soul Gem can be picked out of the rubble, and you will be unstoppable!"
"But to give up such a tasty harvest," Thanos mused. "You have not tasted Terran in a while, have you? They live at such extremes. Their innocents are innocents indeed, and sweet, while their monsters..."
"I am well acquainted with their monsters," the Shadow dismissed him with a shrug. "I created many of them."
"As have I," nodded Thanos. "They are well suited as marionettes. So easy to tempt and control! Such potential! I have made rapists and sadists out of children, and heartless murderers out of babes! Yet they know not what they do, and grow up imagining themselves brave, and idealistic, and morally superior! You should taste the harvest, when these babies become adults, and die in battle! The shock as their souls are ripped from their bodies is most pleasing, especially," Thanos grinned, "those who thought they fought for their religion, and not me."
The Shadow shivered with delight. "Ah, I hear you! Such pleasure! Such agony! So many potential servants! Yes, we shall take our time, and carve this little ball up like a roast. I shall join you in your dimension in physical form. Can you make the necessary preparations? Or is your altar too accustomed to play for you to do real work?"
Thanos smiled patiently and bowed. "I shall have the necessary libations this day, my lord."
"I await your call."
A flash of dark fire, a sulfuric stench, and a pulse of dark energy that killed the nearest guard announced the Shade's departure.
"Clean that up," Thanos barked to the simpering Other, "and make preparations for a large meal. I shall have company this day."
"Yes, my Lord," he said, bowing.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Under the Southern Ocean...
"Approach," the King ordered the nervous scientist.
"My lord, Kilauea erupts again, and some of her lava has reached our atmosphere," the merman said, bowing.
"Are my people in danger?"
"No, my Lord. There was a group of students in the area, but they have been evacuated with the usual precautions. Vacationing families have been warned with due diligence."
"Excellent. Is there any other news?"
"Yes, my Lord. Our own scientists took samples of the lava, and this," he offered his king a small aquamarine stone in a gold setting, "was found within a piece of obsidian. It seems impossible, my Lord, for the gold should have melted, and the stone should have been ruined, but there it sits..."
"As perfect as on the day in which it was set," the King breathed. He lifted the pendant with a trembling hand and passed a thumb across its face. "Nearly thirty years have passed...it took Pele thirty years to get this to me...and out magic still holds." The king's hand closed around the pendant and his eyes closed for a moment. "She lives...or her blood still runs...have there been any other signs?"
"No, my Lord. The lava approaches a village by the sea..."
"That is not our concern. The land-dwellers take care of their own kind."
"I beg your patience, my Lord. If your daughter, or her blood, still runs on Pele's land, but has not freedom, it could be a sign from Pele herself."
The King glowered ominously. "Those monstrosities would DARE touch my kin! They KNOW the law!" His fingers drummed on his throne's arm-rest as he pondered the situation. Finally he took a writing stencil in one hand, lay down the pendant, and took up a gold cylinder.
"We shall do nothing with haste," he said, scribing furiously but carefully into the cylinder's sides. "We shall give the monsters neither reason nor excuse to attack us. Take this message," he handed the carved cylinder to the young scientist, "to the dome under the sea, at Pele's feet. Give it there to her boy, and wait for an answer."
The young scientist bowed.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Dismissed." The King paused for a moment. "There is no need for you to hide, beloved. I know you are there."
His wife glided out from behind a column. "Is it possible? After all this time, might we finally embrace her again? She loved to climb Kilauea, and to see the lava dance in the space above the sky. She was always headstrong, leaving the safety of the water to explore the land..."
"Even as I, myself, have done from time to time. I know, beloved. Our pain has been great. But we shall find our daughter again, or finally know the truth. Either way, we shall be a whole family once more."
"Namor..."
"Shhh, my darling. All shall be done."
The King of the Undersea People pulled his wife to him fiercely, trying to comfort her with his very presence. A page swam in, however, and he glared down at the interruption.
"My Lord, forgive me...the Worm has been spotted..."he gasped. "It wakes again!"
TBC