Chapter 8: The Final Frontier
"O come, all ye faithful/ Joyful and triumphant/ O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem" sound the assembled.
Behind shut lids, Misty Knight listens to the Christmas choir and delights in the vigorous voices reverberating throughout Harlem's First Baptist Church. She savors their sweet sound and sways slightly upon their harmony. In this moment, good Misty knows no concern about the world's sordid affairs. The Knight knows no ailment or injury after another battle. Behind closed eyes, the Fearless Defender feels only the fellowship of the congregation, the holiday's hope, and heavenly peace. For a moment, the hero need only be a humble human being, and the renowned woman warrior wishes, somewhere inside, that she could ever remain in this. . . . .
"Sweet Christmas," someone softly says beside Misty.
Knight startles. She hasn't heard that voice since the Secret Wars II, long ago. Misty comes alert and leerily looks left. It is entirely unlikely that. . . . . It is Luke Cage! The flummoxed lady lurches back, her jaw loose. The lost friend leans toward her with cordial hand extended under the cheerful church lighting. Their palms meet. This Luke is real! He is as strong as a lion and as alive as Lazarus. He lovingly pats her shoulder. A lump forms in a friend's throat. At the lectern, a soloist lilts "Go tell it on the mountain . . ."
Yet dumbfounded, detective Misty sits silent, but her inner sleuth still starts studying her subject. Even in great happiness, a healthy cynic cannot help herself. Luke looks much the same as years ago, and he has not especially aged. However, that occurrence is not too uncommon in this universe. Knight reviews his visage from crown to chin. His hair could use a trimming, but it would be a fashionable retro 'do. His brown eyes are as warm as ever. And, his cheeks and other features are as chiseled as a powerful man's should be. Misty sighs over the miraculous sight.
Then, Knight notices something. In a shirt pocket, within his suit, Luke has reading glasses. Such is an odd item for an enhanced being. Although, Misty supposes that she has seen Beast and She-Hulk wearing such.
Then, Knight notices something much odder! Or, she thinks that she does. For a second, Misty ogles Luke's lenses against his lavender shirt. And, for an unsettling instant, Knight sees her reflection—that of a long-haired, grey-locked, wrinkled old woman! It rankles and rattles her. Nonplussed, Knight pulls back. Cage releases her hand. His jacket shifts and hides the reflection. Recovering composure, Misty Knight readies a question for Cage about curious events. However, before she can query, the confused investigator encounters yet another queerness!
With amazement, Misty examines her outstretched right arm, the extremity of which Luke shook. Knight's normally artificial limb has life again! It has blood vessels and a mottled color. It feels the church's December drafts, and it even has downy hair upon it. Then, the restored arm returns to its regular robotic, bionic state in a blink. Misty resists reeling. But, she wonders if she's in jeopardy.
"MAY WE JOIN YOU?" someone, to the side, screams above "Joy to the World". Misty would not say the rude party "ejaculates" in church.
"Well, look who's here," Luke points and laughs. He is also too loud for church. Although, the congregation completely doesn't seem to mind, which is odd.
Knight turns her attention. At the entrance, Danny Rand and Alejandro Montoya shout indistinctly, like asses, over the Advent activities. Approaching up the aisle, they clamor uncouthly, clashing with the carols. And, the Christian crowd keeps caring not a bit. Increasingly excited, Cage accompanies the party-crashers with cracking claps, clopping feet, and cackling. Like magic, Cage has also somehow done a costume quick change into Power Man's apparel: open yellow shirt, tight chain belt, and blue jeans.
It clicks for Misty. "This is not happening," states she.
"But, everything within Eternity is ever happening," answers "Luke", his voice unnaturally echoing—as the entire environs alters.
The First Baptist Church changes like charcoal ablaze. The lofty ceiling simply ceases into space, and solid walls collapse like sand. The surrounding skyscape is swirling swarthy clouds against an indigo sky. Around Misty, the assembled faithful transform. The gathered grow into groaning, glowing specters who seep away into the shadowy surroundings. Beside Knight, the original Hero for Hire alters awfully. Before Knight's gaze, Cage's skin desiccates, schisms, and crumbles away, and the skeletal Grim Reaper is revealed, her sockets aglow and her teeth agape. A fleshless finger directs Misty to ornate, iron patio furniture that appears amidst the phantasmagorgia. Death follows the Fearless Defender over.
Apprehensively, Knight dips her derriere to the dining table seat. It feels cold. However, the steaming pastry and tea offered are obviously hot. The refreshments rest in ice-blue crystal upon the frosty ferrous furniture with lit candles on either side. The candlesticks contain skull art; that's an apt touch. Framing each place's plate, a fork and knife sit, and the silverware is literally argentine. Misty takes the utensils, figuring that she should not eat with her fingers. Death is probably a little European. The apple turnover tastes just like her late grandmother's. That touch is apt too.
Mistress Death sits. The Fearless Defender faces Fate uneasily for a moment. "Do you like it?" Death asks, "I am a force of nature, and I do not often bake."
"You won't have to re-kill the cook," Knight quips bravely. Within, Misty remembers her grandmother's grueling passing, but the girl figures that one wisely keeps Death in a good mood.
Across the table, the Grim Reaper sits with mouth agape, seemingly silently laughing. Swiping her boney features, Lady Death puts on her bonny face. It is fair-skinned flesh flanked by black locks. She is ready to socialize over desserts.
Knight starts the conversation, "So, did Spymaster successfully slay me? Am I dead?"
"I have not decided yet," Death sips some tea.
"I will need an answer at some point," mentions Misty.
"I am inevitable," answers Death, "especially for you, Mercedes Knight."
The subject looks aside. From the patio, she peers over a great green lawn. And, to her great surprise, the sight of friends greets her. Afar, her allies Iron Fist and Aguila approach. Misty anxiously anticipates their company, alone with Death like she is. However, as she watches, her aid appears to make no progress over several seconds. They simply plod in-place like flip-book animation. Then, for some reason, Aguila kneels and disappears entirely.
Turning back, Misty continues the conversation, "Yeah, Death, I agree that you seem especially inevitable for me."
The Dark Angel nods, "You visit my shadow pretty often. Years back, terrorists blew you up and took your arm [see Iron Fist #6]. Soon after, Nightshade threw you off a cliff [see Power Man and Iron Fist #52]. After that, the assassin Impasse infected you with deadly Ebola [see Power Man and Iron Fist #101]. Awhile later, rogue Doombots ravaged you [see Deathlok v.2 #3] as the Ravager had gravely wounded you before [see Iron Fist #3]. Then, Hand ninjas savagely sliced and stabbed you to such severe sanguineousness that they left you for dead, a sight unfit for the soft or the squeamish, in a Shadowland alleyway [see Shadowland: Blood on the Streets LS]. Eventually, the insane Puppet Master caused you a prolonged coma [see Heroes for Hire v.3 #1-5]. Then, Montenegro nastily mangled and nearly strangled you. Most recently, Spymaster has fatally shot you—twice."
"Actually, what you describe is the life of any marvelous hero, but folks notice the mayhem more when it is misogynistic," Misty makes clear, "American political correctness is killing us all."
"Amen. Your nation has had a good run, and you have had a good run," Mistress Death nods, "But, I claim all in the end. All rivers go to the sea, as your doctrine denotes."
"Oh."
The Grim Reaper goes on, "However, I offer you hope, Ms. Knight, for what is a dram of eternity to me is the rest of your life to you."
"I would not mind a deferment from this freaky place before having to, for sure, get used to it," Knight comments, "I'm copacetic to any suggestion, Ms. Death."
Mortality replies, "Forsooth then, I ask a favor of you."
"I'm listening," Knight leans on in. Misty is leery of further nearing Death. But, ex-cop Knight knows negotiation technique.
A master of intimacy, Mistress Death reaches across the table and rubs Misty's wrist. Nebulous eyes seemingly look right into Knight's soul. The Abstract announces, "I wish for you to visit Power Man and Iron Fist."
"No problem," states Knight, "I have often over the years. And, furthermore, I believe that they are both conveniently currently here." She points to Danny on the terrace.
"Luke Cage resides not in this realm," reveals Eternity's rival.
Fazed, Knight falls back after leaning forward. The revelation—and her frosty ferrous chair—send a shiver down her spine. The piqued investigator inquires, "So, Luke is not in the land of the dead? He is not in the legion of the unliving?"
"No, the Legion of the Unliving shall soon sack your allies," answers Death.
"What?"
"What?" the Supreme Specter shrugs.
Knight narrows her inquiry, "Where is Luke Cage?"
"Beyond my domain and dimension," Muerte muses, "However, I shall send you there if you but agree. You can visit Luke's lovely locale and learn of its wonders. Misty Knight will be empowered and enlightened there like never before. Afterward, return here. And, tell Daniel Rand that he must never see Luke Cage again under any circumstance. Iron Fist must quit his quest according to you."
Knight falls quiet a moment. Then, she queries, "Cage is not on Utopia Island, is he?"
Nigh-omniscient Death unpacks Misty's question, "No, Luke is not now a girl living on an isle of Amazons. His neighbors are of all genders. He is not on Earth-S' Utopia Island, home of Power Princess."
The p.i. probes further, "But, did you say that a lady would be empowered there as never before?"
"I did," the other party pronounces, "You would be as empowered as Power Man."
"However, did I hear right?" the Daughter of the Dragon digs, "This detail—task—is a dual favor. I get to see long-lost Luke, but I also get to break Danny's heart by banning him from doing the same."
"You or I cannot exactly ban Dan Rand from doing anything. He has free will," Death states, "However, you do ken me correctly. You are Iron Fist's fast friend and frequent lover. Out of affection and duty, you must attempt deterring him from his committed quest. Otherwise, the entire universe could expire. His one-time mentor the Contemplator has already tried turning Iron Fist and failed."
Misty frowns, "And, if I refuse your offer, I may then expire—die—correct?"
"Correct," Death confirms.
Mortal Misty Knight contemplates while man's Mistress casually masticates a munchie and takes tea. The woman seriously reflects upon the occasions when she hurt Danny. They are few, but they are there. For example, she was once his betrothed but broke the engagement (see I am an Avenger #1). Another time, Knight ignobly betrayed Iron Fist to arch-enemy Master Khan (see Namor the Sub-Mariner #8). In tumultuous times, she sided against him in the Superhuman Registration Act Civil War. Thinking further, Misty reflects upon Luke's apparent fate. The Grim Reaper herself reports that Luke has a good resting place after dying a hero. Cage's legacy endures well as he enjoys some Elysian reward. But, of course, Misty will always miss him.
Knight knows what she must do. Knights are honorable, and Fearless Defenders are without fear. Misty must be true to her friends and to herself. Heaving a sigh, resolve refuses Fate.
Instantly, the cozy, candle-lit table and food disappear. Misty Knight and Mistress Death sit across from each other silently on the solid patio. Utterly stolid features stiffly stare down a disdainful stooge defiant of divine dominion. For a dreadful moment, Death stays dumb while Misty stays strong, upon the stone-cold stage, against the steep castle walls, breathing the stale air, smelling her perspiration's stench, feeling semi-stupid, time stretching, beneath a starless sky spanning forever. Then, a steady voice speaks "Very well. Thank you for your time."
The stalwart stammers, "S-s-so, w-w-what's the st-st-story now?"
"Now, you return to the 'states'," states Death, "both the United States and your state of borrowed time."
Knight stands to leave, "Okay, it was nice meeting you. I am going to start moseying back to Montana. I figure that my mate Colleen could probably use a comrade-in-arms considering the creeps causing her consternation there when last I looked."
"Why walk to Montana when you can ride?" the Grim Reaper curiously replies.
Latching Knight's nape, Lady Death directs her attention to the patio's peripheral and this place's perpetually changing landscape. In an instant, the terrain turns from evening grass to airy Rocky Mountain heights at dawn. Aurora unfurls an auric expanse over outspread apexes. Amongst the illumination, an animate apparition approaches as though upon the resplendent rays. Like rolling thunder, the Phantom Rider and his horse Banshee run the mountainside. They gallop the steep escarpment's earth like a ghostly gust pitching gravel and dust. In the cascading cloud, a candent cape cuts through the pother, and cracking, brisk hoofbeats clap across the land. Like a bullet, Phantom Rider bounces from the mountainside in a flash.
Suddenly, He Who Rides the Winds traverses the final frontier before Misty Knight. Banshee bears down upon the Daughter of the Dragon, and she is borne onto the charging spectral steed as it disappears into the ether.
Phantom Rider tips his hat to Death, "Ma'am."