Chapter 22: Cap's Plan
Frank Castle, the vigilante known as the Punisher, stood concealed in the shadows of a nondescript building on the East Side of Manhattan, looking at the entrance to a flophouse across the street. The flophouse's door was guarded by two mercenaries, armed to the teeth and decked out in tactical gear. Gaining entrance wasn't going to be easy. Castle knew that much.
But he didn't have a choice, he reminded himself. He was on a rescue mission. Sam Wilson, the Avenger known as Falcon, had been kidnapped by the mercenaries and was being held hostage. It was up to the Punisher to get him back.
The drone of a motorcycle engine filled the air as a red motorcycle pulled up to the front of the flophouse. The kid riding it climbed off and removed his helmet, grabbing some boxes off the back and walking up to the door. The two mercenaries eyed him suspiciously. "Whatcha looking for, kid?" one of them asked.
"Pizza delivery," said the delivery boy, holding open the box. "For a Mr. Rumlow?"
"Hold on." The mercenary nodded to his companion, indicating for him to inspect the delivery boys' pizza boxes. Meanwhile, the first mercenary walked to the door and cracked it open. "Hey, we got a pizza delivery out here. Cheese and pepperoni."
Time to move. Punisher unslung an SIG-Sauer 516 assault rifle outfitted with a scope and a grenade launcher off his back. Reaching into a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a silencer and screwed it onto the barrel of the rifle. He aimed at the mercenary inspecting the motorcycle and fired. There were a series of muffled pops, and the man dropped.
The pizza boy turned, confused by the noise of a body dropping, and as his eyes registered the dead body of the mercenary there was a second sound, the same as the first. The pizza boy turned back to the door to see the first mercenary slumped against the steps, a bullet through his skull. Now from the shadows dashed a figure carrying an assault rifle, wearing a full-body suit of Kevlar with a white skull splashed in paint across the front. "Run away, kid," the man said, as he ran up the steps.
Never one to question orders, the pizza boy beat a hasty retreat to his bike and sped away.
Punisher, meanwhile, creaked the flophouse front door open, stepping cautiously inside. No one had been alerted to his presence yet. Spotting a security camera aimed at the front door, he quickly raised his rifle and fired into the lens.
The camera feed was connected to a makeshift security control room on the first floor of the flophouse that had once been a regular bedroom. Stacks of TV monitors filled the room, each one displaying a different section of the flophouse. The room was usually manned by two mercenaries. There was a brief burst of static as the monitor connected to the front door camera fuzzed out into grey static.
The mercenaries in the room were too busy laughing at the little five-year-old girl in the room to even notice the monitor's misbehavior. The girl had been picked up outside the flophouse, crying for her mother in her unkempt green nightie. The mercenaries knew that they would be in deep trouble if their boss found out, but they were having fun babysitting. And it wasn't too often they got a chance to have fun.
The little girl sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the edge of her nightgown while staring at the two mercenaries with wide eyes. One of them was trying to offer her a pink pill. "Yo, sweetie, it's Percs," he said. "It's good and good for you."
"I want my mom," the little girl whimpered.
"Mom?" The mercenary guffawed. "I know what you need." He continued to push the pill in her face. "Don't you wanna feel like you can take on the world?"
"Please—" begged the girl, her voice cracking.
Punisher's blood boiled. Scum who would offer a little girl drugs deserved to die a horrible death. That's enough. Standing silently in the doorway to the room, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his Kimber Warrior handgun from a hip holster. The pistol was one of Punisher's favorites, his old service pistol during his time in the Marines. "Take your hands off the girl," he ordered.
The mercenaries turned suddenly, shocked at Punisher's presence. "What the what?" one of them asked.
"How did—what did—?" the second spluttered.
"Little girl, get up and leave," Punisher said to the girl, as he cocked his weapon.
The girl, in open-mouthed shock, didn't move. But the first mercenary did, grabbing an assault rifle off the table. "Look at you!" he sneered at Punisher. "Wannabe! You come in here looking for an easy score? This is my world!"
"Wannabe," Punisher snorted. "Right." He fired, and the bullet sailed through the man's open mouth and came out the back of his neck. The man was dead instantly, and as he fell backwards onto the floor the rifle in his hands discharged into the ceiling.
On the second story, a group of mercenaries hung out in a large communal room. Some of them cleaned their rifles, and some of them played poker at a table. When the gunshots went off, the men swore and dove for cover. One of them began screaming about getting shot in his left buttocks.
Back on the first floor, Punisher fired a second round into the second mercenary's kneecap. The man screamed in pain and went down on one knee. Punisher strode over to him and pistol-whipped him before shooting him fatally in the head.
"Now leave," Punisher ordered the girl, who sat in shock, unable to move. He walked over to the TV screens. Pressing a button, he activated one of the monitors. The screen lit up, showing a view of the upstairs mercenary gathering room. The mercenaries ran wildly, moving from table to table, grabbing weapons. Two figures in particular caught Punisher's attention. One of them wore a skull-shaped mask and a white hooded cloak with a blue and orange militarized body suit. The second was an extremely muscular man, who wore a dark-orange-and-maroon body suit with blond hair and sideburns, blazing white eyes, and long nails on the end of each of his fingers. Taskmaster and Sabretooth? What's with the team-up? Thought these guys were loners.
Pressing another button, the viewscreen switched to an image of the flophouse's basement. The image was fuzzy, but it clearly depicted Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, sitting in a chair with his arms bound to the back of the chair. The hero was doubled over, leaning forward heavily in his seat. He had been stripped of his superhero suit, and now wore only pants and shoes. His back was covered with dark red lines, and the knife that the mercenary held in his hand was dripping with blood. They're torturing him.
Punisher's eyes narrowed as pounding footsteps filled the building. The building's few remaining tenants, alerted by the gunshots, were fleeing the flophouse like panicked rats. "Told you they'd come for him," wheezed one elderly man with thinning white hair and a moustache, wearing orange-tinted glasses and a tan sport coat. "It's Thor. Those militia idiots never learn. I'm telling you, it's Thor."
"Thor ain't around no more, idiot!" snapped one of the other men.
As the civilians ran out of the building, the militia men upstairs grabbed their weapons. "What just happened?" one of them asked.
Taskmaster grabbed his energy broadsword off of the table. "I thought you said no one followed you, Creed!"
"This isn't on me, Taskmaster," Victor Creed, aka Sabretooth, growled. "I've been holed up here with you for two days!"
"Well, if it's one of them we can sell him to the big guy as well," Taskmaster remarked. "An Avenger buys us a lot of free passes. Two of them will set us for at least a year."
"You keep saying that," Sabretooth said, as the two charged out of the room followed by a group of mercenaries armed to the teeth with automatic weapons.
"We're still here, aren't we?" Taskmaster shot back.
The team reached the stairway and, guns ready, began to descend carefully. They didn't know who was in the building or what this person was capable of.
Underneath the stairwell, concealed around the corner, Punisher crouched, waiting for someone to appear.
As Taskmaster was halfway down the stairs, he stopped. "You go first," he growled, shoving one of his men forward.
"Me?" the mercenary spluttered.
"I'm paying you," said Taskmaster. "That equals you go first."
The mercenary had been through enough superhero fights to know that the guy who went first into an ambush was the guy who died first. Usually, it wasn't pretty. "Come on, Taskmaster . . ."
But if he had hoped to find mercy in Taskmaster' eyes, hidden behind the steel mask, he would find none. "Go," Taskmaster ordered.
The man swallowed hard and advanced, praying for a swift death. Turning, he opened his eyes to find himself staring down the barrel of a Kimber Warrior handgun. There was a flash, and far less pain than he had imagined as the shot went through his neck. He was already dead before he hit the floor.
The rest of the mercenaries saw their companion fall, and all composure left them. Turning, they began a mad scramble back up the stairway, where they could hopefully find cover. "Back up! Back up!" Taskmaster yelled, pushing and shoving his way off the staircase.
"You're stepping on me!" Sabretooth shouted, shoving back.
Sensing the panic, Punisher took advantage of the moment to pop out of cover. "Who's next?!" he yelled as he unslung his rifle and fired a grenade from the launcher attachment. The grenade flew over the heads of the fleeing mercenaries, bounced off the wall back towards them, and exploded in the air, catching many of the mercenaries in the blast and sending others flying. Bits of burnt wood scattered as the building rumbled on its foundations.
In the basement, the three mercenaries torturing Falcon heard the blast. "You hear that?" asked one of them.
He never got a response as all three men were cut down by a spray of suppressed assault rifle fire. Punisher advanced into the room from the basement stairs, checking for any other enemies. With the room clear, he moved towards Falcon. "Hey, Falcon," he said.
"Heeey. . ." Falcon groaned, recognizing Punisher's voice. The man was clearly in serious pain. "Hold on . . ." he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Wh—what are you doing here, Casssstle. . ." He strained, then collapsed against his bonds.
Syringes lay on the ground around Falcon's chair, as well as pill capsules and dried blood spatters. What did they do to you, pal? Punisher thought as he drew a tactical knife from his calf holster and sliced through the ropes holding Falcon to the chair.
The man toppled forward and Punisher caught him, seating him back against the chair. "This'll help," he said, pulling a small red pill from a pouch on his belt. The pill had been specially designed by S.H.I.E.L.D. as a stimulant to help patients recover from extreme fatigue in emergency situations where they needed to move.
"Ugh." Falcon's face contorted into an expression of disgust at the pill's bitter taste. "What is that?" But the pill did its work. Soon, Falcon could feel feeling returning to his arms and legs. Punisher grabbed him by the arm, helping him to stand up.
A burst of gunfire caught Punisher's attention as bullets whizzed between the two heroes. He shoved Falcon to the ground as he himself dove for cover.
The bullets came from Taskmaster's two .45 pistols as the mercenary stood at the foot of the basement stairs, blocking their way out. "I have an idea," he laughed. "Whichever one of you freaks kills the other one, we'll let go."
"I'd watch that," Sabretooth chuckled. Falcon crawled into a small alcove as Punisher took cover around the corner of a doorway leading into a storage closet. Murderous gunfire continued to hit the ground near their position. "You know they're not going to do that, right?" Sabretooth finally told Taskmaster.
"A guy can dream, can't he?" Taskmaster shot back, never letting go of the triggers. A stream of gunfire poured from his pistols, and several bullets sparked off the other side of the wall Punisher hid on, sending small puffs of dust and concrete fragments into the air. Punisher popped out from cover, firing wildly with his own handgun.
Suddenly a loud humming filled the air as the entire building began to rumble and shake. Bits of the ceiling fell to the floor as the air around them vibrated, rattling their brains inside their skulls. Punisher dropped to his knees in pain. The noise affected Sabretooth and Taskmaster as well, as they dropped their weapons and grabbed for their heads, screaming.
The vibrations came from a HYDRA QuadCopter that was hovering just outside the flophouse. The copter had four large propellers, one on each wing, keeping it in the air. It also had a large claw underneath it, as well as various missile pods and a gatling gun on the underside of the cockpit. The QuadCopter had been outfitted with some kind of Chitauri tech that created a sonic weapon, with a long open barrel, glowing purple energy as it fired sonic waves at the house. The copter deployed a group of HYDRA soldiers who were armed with plasma energy rifles aimed at the building's doors and windows. "All residents are to exit the premises for screening," a HYDRA soldier spoke over the copter's intercom. "Immediately."
Forgetting the heroes, Sabretooth and Taskmaster charged up the stairs to the front exit. "I thought you paid HYDRA off!" Sabretooth shouted.
"I can't hear you!" Taskmaster yelled back. The humming noise had grown louder now, and the building was shaking even more. Support beams in the ceilings cracked. Objects on shelves and tables went scattering. As Sabretooth charged out the front door, Taskmaster staggered up the stairs to the second floor, to the mercenaries' main room. The humming noise was so loud and fierce now that it felt like his head was going to split open. He pawed at the suitcase full of money that he had forgotten to pay to HYDRA. Protection money, to keep their little superhero-kidnapping racket going. Hoping and praying it wasn't too late, he headed for the front door with the money.
In the basement, Punisher laid back against the wall, reloading his grenade rifle and gritting his teeth in pain. Falcon was screaming, both hands over his ears, though he could hardly hear his own screams because of the noise. He climbed to his feet and charged for the back door emergency exit, running with all his might. "Go, Sam, go!" Punisher shouted, getting up to his feet.
"I'm going!" Falcon shouted back, throwing himself shoulder-first into the door with all his might. "Agh!" he grunted as the door was slammed off its hinges, tearing out of the frame and falling to the street outside. Falcon collapsed to the ground, his momentum too strong. He looked up to see the copter and HYDRA soldiers advancing on Sabretooth, who was screaming at them, "We paid! There was an understanding!" One of the soldiers saw Falcon and raised his rifle.
Then suddenly Punisher was there, standing bolt upright, aiming the scope of his weapon at the HYDRA soldier and firing a suppressed burst that downed the man. He aimed for the barrel of the sonic cannon and fired his grenade launcher attachment, emptying all five grenades into the air. The grenades sailed through the air and disappeared into the hole on the sonic cannon. "Come on," he told Falcon, pulling the man to his feet as they staggered away, trying to clear the distance.
Sabretooth shook his fist at the HYDRA forces. "We have a deal! The deal is we deliver to you and you guys leave us alone!"
Suddenly the QuadCopter exploded. Its flaming hull careened out of the sky and into the flophouse. Taskmaster came struggling through the front door with the suitcase of money just in time to see the copter falling straight towards him. "No," he murmured as the two collided. He didn't even have time to brace himself.
The entire flophouse was engulfed in a giant fireball that rose into the night. In a normal New York City, this explosion would have the populace screaming and running for their lives. But in post-apocalyptic New York City, hardly anyone batted an eye.
The blast caught Punisher and Falcon, launching the two of them further down the street. Punisher landed hard in a pile of concrete rubble while Falcon slid forward on the asphalt of the street. Punisher got up, gritting his teeth in pain as he grabbed at his hip. That was gonna leave a bruise tomorrow. "Jeez!" he groaned as part of the HYDRA copter's wreck landed nearby with a loud clang.
"Thanks for the rescue, Castle!" Falcon said, emitting a weak laugh as he lay on his back. "And I . . . didn't get you anything. Are there others?"
"Not enough," Punisher said grimly. "Not nearly enough." He pulled Falcon to his feet. "You okay?"
"No," Falcon said. "None of us are. We're completely screwed."
"I know."
Panting heavily, the two superheroes fled the scene, making their way towards Central Park. When Jormungandr the World Serpent had attacked the Helicarrier, the giant S.H.I.E.L.D. base had crashed in the middle of Central Park. Its mangled, twisted wreckage littered the landscape with debris. As they reached the wreckage, Falcon collapsed with exhaustion. "Ngh!"
"Hold it together," said Punisher, pulling the man up. "Almost there."
The two passed by the giant wreckage and down to the pond in Central Park. The water levels had considerably lowered, creating access to the pond's source of water: a giant sewer pipe. The heroes trudged through the mud and slop into the pipe. "Sorry, this is kind of unpleasant," Punisher said, wrinkling his nose at the smell.
"Considering the week I had," Falcon grimaced, "unpleasant sounds great."
Suddenly the two were tackled by dark shadowy figures who pinned them to the wall. "Come on! Come on!" Punisher grunted as Wolverine pinned him to the wall.
"Shouldn't have come back, Castle," said Wolverine.
Falcon was restrained and held down by the Thing, one of the members of the Fantastic Four. "Hey!" Falcon grunted as he was pinned against the wall.
"Give him the thing, Tony," the Thing said.
Tony Stark stepped from the shadows, clutching a scanning device. "I hate to use tech out in the open," he muttered as he placed the device over Falcon's mouth. "Damn you for making me do this, Castle."
Falcon's eyes went wide; he had no idea what was happening. The scanner made Falcon's chest transparent, revealing his anatomy and bone structure. It had initially been developed by Stark Industries as a hospital alternative to x-rays, but Tony had repurposed one into scanning the "heroes" that came to their hideout. A group of Doombots under some magical illusion spell had tried to join their team before, back when they were hiding in a secure Stark Tech facility. The Doombots had walked in looking exactly like some X-Men, and the fight had been short but brutal. They'd lost Cloak and Dagger, and had been careful ever since.
"He's clear," Tony said, and the Thing let Falcon go.
"I could have told you that!" Falcon groaned as he landed on his hands and knees in the ankle-deep sewer water.
Tony walked quickly towards Punisher. "I can't believe you came back here," he said.
"Just get it over with, Tony," said Punisher.
Tony obliged, placing the scanner over Punisher's mouth and exposing the bone structure of his chest. "Clear," he said, shutting the scanner off. "Doom didn't send his robots."
"Not this time," the Thing muttered.
"I'm doing the best I can, Ben," Tony sighed.
Punisher wiped a smear of blood from the busted lip Wolverine had given him while restraining him. "Could one of you 'heroes' help Sam?" he asked. "He's been through a lot."
"How do we know something didn't follow them here?" Wolverine asked.
"They're clear," came a feminine voice. They all turned towards the sound. From deeper within the pipe, Scarlet Witch had appeared. Her eyes glowed red for a brief instant, as they did when she used her telepathic powers, before returning to normal. "Leave them alone," she said.
"Thank you, Wanda," said Punisher.
"Don't act all put upon," Wolverine snapped. "We told you that if you left to go get him you better not come back. You've put us all at risk."
"And I told you that I'm not giving up on what is left of our friends, no matter what," Punisher shot back. He strode off, heading deeper into the sewers.
"There are rules we have to live by or we are all going to die, Frank," Tony said as the rest of the group followed Punisher.
"We're going to die anyhow and I'd much rather live that life the way I want to," said Punisher as he entered the main room of their hideout. Several yellow bulbs bathed the room in a soft golden light. Cans of fuel and ration boxes were everywhere. Scavenged bunk beds hugged the walls, each one housing a superhero. Punisher looked around, recognizing most of them.
Iron-Man. The Fantastic Four. A couple of the X-Men; Wolverine, Cyclops, Colossus, and Storm. Bruce Banner. Scarlet Witch. Vision. Falcon. Wasp. Ant-Man. Spider-Man. Spider-Woman. She-Hulk.
These were all who were left. The only remaining superheroes in New York City, for all they knew. The last few days had been nothing but a battle for survival. The Dark Elves had locked on to any and all transmissions they sent and found them, hunting them down to kill them. Many lives had been lost; Punisher had watched as Bill Foster had been gunned down before his very eyes.
One by one, or two by two, or three by three, they had found their way to Central Park and formed a ragtag group. The heroes had become focused on nothing but surviving and keeping their existence a secret. They knew when the HYDRA copters came and when they left. They knew where to scatter. They knew which beats to walk to find rations. They'd been forced to survive because they'd had to. Either that or die.
"And I'm not going to let what happened change the value of my life," Punisher went on. "And shame on the rest of you. Shame on you for giving up."
"No one gave up," said Wolverine.
Punisher laughed, throwing his arms out and gesturing at the room, at the superheroes sitting defeated on their bunks or on the floor. The feeling in the room was one of hopelessness and cynicism. "What do you call this?"
"We have no plan," Tony said.
"And whose fault is that?" asked Punisher.
"He's working on it," Tony said. He was referring to Captain America, who had shut himself in a small room and locked the door, asking for no one to disturb him while he came up with some kind of plan. He'd been in there for almost three days, and hadn't even come out to eat or drink or use the restroom. Some of them, privately, thought he might be dead or asleep. But they respected his wish, and his orders to not open the door were carried out faithfully (if a little restlessly).
"Guys, I need a sitrep," said Falcon. "I've been gone for the past week."
"Basically, Mr. Wilson, the world ended." The voice came from a kid with a tangle of brown hair and a red and blue suit with a black spider in the middle. Falcon recognized him. It was Spider-Man. They'd tangled before in Germany, during the whole Civil War thing.
"Here's some water for you," Spider-Man said, holding out the bottle.
Falcon accepted it. "Thanks."
"My name is Peter Parker, by the way," said the kid. "I guess we can forgo the paranoid formality of a secret identity. All those things that were so important to us—not so important anymore, huh? I think we met before. I fought you in Germany, back during the Accords thing. Sorry about that."
Falcon raised his eyebrows. The kid was still as overeager as he remembered him. "Don't worry about it," he said.
"What happened to you?" Banner asked.
Falcon looked out at the group. "Honestly, I was running a training mission with a new S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit named Cloud Nine. We were practicing aerial combat. Next thing I know there's weird monsters and alien warriors all over the city. Within hours the city fell. I don't know what happened to the new kid." He paused, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. "Do we know if it's just Manhattan?"
"We assume that it's everywhere," said Banner.
"And we assume that because—?" Falcon asked.
"No one has even tried to enter the airspace," Banner said. "Not an Avenger, not a plane or helicopter—"
"No military?" asked Falcon.
"Washington D.C. is gone," Mr. Fantastic said. "We know that for a fact."
"Gone as in . . . ?"
"The White House, the Capitol, and the Pentagon were burned to ash."
Falcon buried his head in his hands. The situation seemed so dismal. "Can I just say, I'm really glad to see you guys," he said. He took a look at the heroes around the room. "Is—is this everybody? This is it? Seven thousand superheroes in New York, and this is all that's left of us?"
"I'm afraid so, Sam," Vision said sadly. "We've taken heavy losses. Loki's forces are powerful."
"How did you end up kidnapped?" Tony asked.
Falcon shrugged. "There was this flash of white. I woke up drugged and tied to a chair." He took a swig from the water bottle.
"What were they doing to you?" asked Sue Storm.
"Drugging me, talking crap, you know . . . usual bad guy stuff."
"Who was it?" asked Banner.
"Taskmaster and Sabretooth."
"Did they say anything important?" Wolverine asked.
"Well, Logan, if you think them telling me that they were gonna sell me to HYDRA is important."
"They were going to sell you?" Tony asked.
"To HYDRA."
"They were going to sell you to HYDRA?"
"No offense," Scott Lang piped up, "but why would HYDRA need you? And why would he need those idiots to bring you to him?"
"I don't think it's a matter of need. Maybe just want." Falcon got up, grimacing in pain. "But I'm hardly an expert on authoritarian terrorist-criminal-paramilitary organization bent on world domination."
"But Scott has a good point," Wasp said. "Why would those guys need to do business with a couple of low-life dirtbags?"
"Exactly," Punisher growled.
"At this point, what's in it for them?" Scott said.
"It might be that Taskmaster and the other guy are just fooling themselves into thinking they can do business with HYDRA," offered Colossus.
"I thought that too," Falcon told him. "But they were really about to get themselves evaporated. And I'm under the distinct impression that they had done this before. Bartered a person of interest."
The heroes began murmuring among themselves at this new bit of information. Punisher clenched his fists. "That piece of—"
"Conquers the country to barter with trash?" Storm asked.
"This is insane," Invisible Woman said.
"You had to 'a heard him wrong," said the Thing.
"But we're going to do something, right?" Spider-Man asked. He looked around at the faces of his friends and colleagues. No one met his gaze. An awkward silence filled the room.
"Survive," Tony said at last.
"Tony, survive is not something," Falcon said.
"No, it's not." A familiar voice filled their ears, and they turned to see Steve Rogers standing in the open doorway behind them. He was older now, much older, or at least he looked that way, with shaggy brown hair and a beard. His suit was worn, the star in the center faded, but his trademark red-and-blue vibranium shield, scuffed as it was, looked just the same.
"But that's because we didn't have a plan," Captain America continued. "Until now."
"How about everyone gets off their butts, dust off, shake it off, and let's fight back?" Spider-Man piped up.
Scarlet Witch eyed him sadly. The newest addition to the super hero team was full of unbridled optimism and energy. But sometimes optimism was misplaced. "If only it were that easy," she said, half to herself. "If only there were more of us left. But without Bill Foster—"
She closed her eyes, trying desperately to forget the memory of the superhero Goliath being brutally gunned down by HYDRA forces. Around her, other supers began to call out the names of friends and family they'd also seen die, a grim roll call of the dead.
"Emma Frost."
"Cloak. And Dagger."
"Nighthawk."
Falcon turned to Ant-Man. "Scott . . . Maggie and Cassie?"
Scott said nothing, but his reaction to hearing the names of his dead wife and daughter answered Falcon's question. "I . . . I didn't know," Falcon said apologetically as Ant-Man walked off.
"But that was before we knew HYDRA was accepting trade," Captain America said. "Let's give them something to barter with."
"Barter for what?" Punisher asked, confused.
"Crossbones and the other loser made it pretty clear that they got permission to go about their business as long as they made their payments," said Falcon. "And the payments were guys like us. Me. "
"No one's answered my earlier question," Storm said, and they all turned towards the mutant. "Why wouldn't this alien army wipe just about everybody out? Why go to all the trouble to ruin the world?"
"Exactly!" said Wasp. "Doing this much damage—"
"—and now HYDRA's playing Monopoly with low-renters?" Invisible Woman finished.
"Yes," said Tony. "And I'll tell you exactly why. Loki's invaded Earth before. He was behind the first attack on New York. This wasn't some spur-of-the-moment thing. This was planned down to a detail. I know for sure he's teamed up with M.O.D.O.K., and A.I.M., and before Fury disappeared he told me S.H.I.E.L.D. had been gathering intel on a group of supervillains meeting regularly, about a plan to invade the Earth. These guys were A-listers: Doom, Magneto, Octavius, Red Skull, Loki, and a Japanese crime boss named Shredder. Every one of these guys has something in common. They hate the earth. They hate everyone on it. Nothing would make them happier than being able to burn it to the ground, wipe out every last superhero, and start afresh with them on top. So, let's say they won. They beat us. Now they're toying with us. They took the world—"
"Maybe it's not enough," Scarlet Witch mumbled.
"Let's say they 'won.'" Punisher threw his arms wide. "And can I just say screw Fury for not doing anything to stop this?"
"It's not his fault," Tony said.
Punisher whirled on the ex-billionaire. "What?! It's not Nick Fury's fault for all this mess? Whose is it? It's not my fault. It's not his fault. It ain't her fault. Whose fault do we think it—"
Tony held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay . . ."
"I don't get you at all, Stark," Punisher growled, jabbing an accusing finger at Stark's face. "I go out to save Falcon's butt, you all act like I've taken a dump in the pool. Fury knows this attack is gonna happen and doesn't do a thing to stop it, and you're all 'Well, he didn't mean it.'"
"None of that matters now!" Captain America shouted, and all attention was back on him. "It's time to make a plan. If HYDRA is buying and trading for guys like us, let's sell them one of us."
Colossus saw where the plan was going. "And see how far one of us can get into HYDRA's world."
"Grab intel," Mr. Fantastic said. "Maybe do some real damage."
"It's ballsy," Punisher warned. "Doom, Loki, Skull, Magneto, and the others might not know how to react to it."
"It would have to be somebody who can take the punishment," Mr. Fantastic added. "Sturdy."
"Indestructible," Wolverine mused.
At the same time, Banner, Colossus and the Thing said, "I'll go." They looked at each other.
"I have unbreakable skin, comrades," said Colossus. "I will go."
"So do I," the Thing said. "And I'm stronger."
"Debatable," Colossus snorted.
Banner grinned. "Guys, I'm a Hulk."
Scarlet Witch interrupted their parlay, detecting something telepathically. "As much as we all enjoy hearing you try to one-up each other, Tony Stark is about to tell you: none of you are going."
Tony had been opening his mouth to say those very words, but Scarlet Witch had stolen them. "Really?" he said. "For the record, I hate when you do that." He turned to Captain America. "Cap, with all due respect, it's not a plan. It's half a plan. It's not worth another life."
"Well, I'm not sitting here one second longer," Banner said, standing up. "I'll go. It makes the most sense. I want to do this."
"Fine," said the Thing, not about to be one-upped by a gamma radiation green giant. "But I'll be the one what sends ya."
"No, that'll be me, bub," said Wolverine.
"You?" Punisher scoffed. "Your leg isn't even healed yet."
"Three days ago it was completely gone," Wolverine shot back. "Sliced in half by one of those Dark Elf black hole grenades. It's doing pretty good all things considered."
Captain America held up a hand. "Wolverine, with your adamantium-laced bones, you are probably worth more to Loki than any of us. He will flay you alive the second he sees you, strip you for parts and who knows what else."
Tony crossed his arms. "Exactly right."
Wolverine clapped his hands to the sides of his head. "You two agreein' with each other? It is the end of the world."
"Okay, so listen," Banner said. Normally, the scientist was a soft-spoken man, but now he spoke with a confidence that got the room's attention. "I know some of you don't care for this plan, but Spidey, whatever he said his real name is, is right: we have to try."
"Peter Parker," Spider-Man clarified.
"We're going to go in and do the best we can," Banner finished.
"But obviously," the Thing added, "if by some miracle we do make it out the other side, we sure as hell won't be able to come back here."
"We'll meet you at another point," Captain America said.
"Where do we go?" asked Mr. Fantastic.
"The Village of the United Tribes in the Savage Land," Captain America answered, picking up his shield and strapping it onto his arm. "There will hopefully be enough vegetation and supplies to get us back on our feet."
"If there still is a Savage Land," mused Cyclops.
"Pack your things and get ready to move out," Captain America said. "It's time we ditched this base for a new one anyway." As the heroes dispersed, Tony gave Captain America a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye. I hope you know what you're doing, Steve.
"Alright, then," Banner said, glancing at the Thing. The pair headed out, into the night air, feeling the cold against their face. They started walking down towards the Manhattan waterfront, which was where Loki's ship sat in the water.
Ant-Man swallowed the anti-depressant pills that he'd nabbed from a corner store pharmacy. He wasn't one to pop pills frequently, but ever since Maggie and Cassie had been killed by Loki's attack, he hadn't been the same. He needed these pills to cope. Otherwise he'd break down. Have a panic attack.
"Scott?"
Hearing Wasp's voice, Ant-Man shoved the pills in his suit pocket. "Hey, Hope!" he said, turning around.
Hope Pym looked at him with a strange gaze. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Scott said, shrugging. "I'm fine. Why?"
"It's just, you took it kind hard when Falcon brought up Cassie."
Scott's face fell.
"Look, Scott, I'm sorry about what happened," Hope said. "We all are. I can only imagine how you must feel." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Want to know something? Something Hank used to tell me, back when I was a little girl. I was riding my bike, or learning how to anyway. You know that thing that parents do where they say they're not going to let go, but then they do, and you're fine anyway?"
"Sure do," said Scott, smiling slightly. In fact, he remembered back when he'd taught Cassie to ride her bike. She had been so nervous, but overjoyed when she'd learned how. That was a long time ago. Back when he and Maggie were still together. Back when life was . . . easy. Simple. Routine.
He realized Hope was still talking. "Anyways, I wasn't so fine. I fell off the bike and skinned my knee. Hank picked me up, and like the good dad he is, took me inside and laid me on the couch. I told him I never wanted to bike again. Then you know what he did?"
"What?" asked Scott.
"He told me something that I think about a lot whenever I'm in situations like this. He told me, 'Hope, pain is temporary. It may last for a minute or an hour or even a year, but eventually, it will subside, and something else will take its place. If you quit, however, it will last forever.'
"Scott, I'm sorry about what happened to your family, and I understand the pain you're in. Imagine the pain I felt knowing my dad was lying to me about what happened to my mother for thirty years. But his words ring true to this day. We can't give up. Not now. We have to fight so that the kids who are still alive in all of this mess can live the life we would want our families to have."
"You're right," Scott said, looking into Hope's eyes. "You're right." They embraced warmly, and Scott felt his eyes begin to water and his throat choke up.
"Rogers says we're on the move in twenty," Hope said. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Scott said, fingering the antidepressants in his pockets as they walked out. "Let's go save the world."
"We gotta make this realistic, Doc," said the Thing. "Otherwise they're gonna know the jig is up before it begins."
"Yeah," Banner said. "I figure maybe you can just knock me out before we get there."
The Thing stopped. "What, you mean like hit you?"
"Well, yeah," said Banner. "I mean, if you're as tough as you say you are, one solid right to the jaw and I'll be out like a light. That's the best way to do it."
"Is that even gonna work?" the Thing asked. "Cause I ain't too eager to go toe-to-toe with the other guy tonight."
Banner swallowed. "Sure!" he said nervously. "Sure, it'll work." He had no idea if it would work. He'd never had to knock himself out before.
They kept walking. Banner hadn't been topside in a while. It was still a shock to look at the world like this. It had never been this bad. Not after New York, or even Ultron. "Geez," he said.
"Keep it together, Doc," the Thing said. He trudged forward, never slowing or pausing to look.
"Sure," Banner said, staring up at the sky. "Because that's an appropriate response to the end of the world."
They rounded a corner. The waterfront was just around the bend. "See anything?" asked the Thing, glancing at the rooftops, keeping an ear out for the sound of the patrolling QuadCopters.
"No," Banner said.
"You ready?"
Banner closed his eyes and tensed up. This was really gonna hurt. "Do it," he said, raising his palms in a beckoning motion.
"Don't brace yourself," the Thing said. "Go limp."
"How about we switch?" Banner asked.
"Not the plan."
"Just do it." Banner shut his eyes.
The Thing let loose with a haymaker, punching Banner with all his strength. The blow sent the man flying into a café and out the back, where he crashed into a parked car, setting off a car alarm. "Ow," he groaned, rolling over onto his side. "That's gonna leave a mark."
"It didn't work," said the Thing, running up.
"I—I think maybe you have to wear me down," Banner suggested. "Try again."
So the Thing did, punching Banner a second time. The blow sent him down into the road with such force that it cracked the street, but nothing happened.
"Ow!" Banner shouted. "Again!"
Wham.
"Aagh! Again!"
Blam. Pow. Smash.
Banner yelled in pain, and his eyes popped open. The pupils had turned green, and his skin was beginning to turn green from his collar up.
Uh-oh, thought the Thing. This ain't good.
"Hurry . . . up," Banner said, straining to hold back the Hulk from emerging. "Do it alreadaaaaargh!"
The Thing finally realized that no amount of bludgeoning would bring Banner down. So he thought rapidly. "Think, Grimm, think! What would Reed do?" He looked around, spotting a fire hydrant and a still-lit street lamp on the corner. Water and electricity don't mix. He moved over to the fire hydrant and ripped it out of the street, directing the blast of powerful water to splash Banner.
Unfortunately, it did a bit more than splash him, sending him flying across the street into the side of a building. When the water died down after a few moments, all that was left was a very wet and very angry Hulk. The Hulk emitted an ear-splitting roar.
"Crap, crap, crap!" the Thing shouted, grabbing the street lamp and smacking the charging Hulk with it. As the Hulk reeled from the blow, the Thing backed up, behind the puddle that the fire hydrant had created. "Come on, ya big green idiot!" he yelled.
The Hulk roared again and charged the Thing, running right into the puddle. The combination of electric current from the street lamp and the water from the fire hydrant emitted a powerful electric surge that coursed through the Hulk's body. The Hulk roared in pain and stumbled out of the puddle, collapsing as electric shocks rippled over his skin.
The sound of a QuadCopter caught the Thing's attention, and he turned to see a group of HYDRA soldiers approaching him with blasters draw. Aw, crap.
"I have a Hulk," he said, grabbing the unconscious Hulk by the ankle and holding up his leg. "I want to trade."
Meanwhile, the rest of the heroes had put Captain America's plan into action. The plan relied on Storm's ability to summon wind currents to elevate herself to fly at high altitudes. They'd gathered their belongings and gone out into the middle of Central Park. Storm had manipulated the weather, using her powers to channel a wind that lifted them all up off the ground into the air. It was a tremendous effort, but somehow she managed to hold on.
"Everyone keep an eye on the sky," Captain America said as they continued to rise.
"And an eye on each other," Wolverine added.
The heroes continued to rise, keeping a wary eye out for any signs of trouble. Spider-Man had been keeping his eyes squeezed shut, but now he opened them a crack. He saw a lot of little ants, which he soon realized were cars. "Wow, um, guys, that's a long way down!" he cried, shutting his eyes tight again.
"Hard to breathe," Sue Richards gasped. Mr. Fantastic floated towards his wife, holding her hand reassuringly.
"Can she go any faster?" whispered Johnny Storm, the human torch. He was used to flying at fast speeds, and while Storm had gotten up to considerable speeds, it wasn't as fast as he'd like.
"She's doing the best she can, Johnny," Sue said, gasping again.
"How are you holding up, Storm?" Colossus called.
"I'm good," Storm grunted. "I'm better out here in the open air than I am locked in a cave! But I need to concentrate!"
Suddenly Vision said, "QuadCopters. Approaching from the east." Sure enough, a couple of small black dots had appeared on the horizon and were growing larger by the second.
"Sue, cloak us!" Captain America ordered.
"Everyone grab on to the person next to you!" Susan shouted. "I can keep us invisible at least until we're out of the city limits."
They all linked up, now flying in a V formation similar to Canadian geese migrating south for the winter. Each superhero held someone else's hand, with Storm at the point of the V holding Wolverine's hand in her right and Ant-Man's hand in her left. Invisible Woman was on one end of the V, using her powers to keep the entire group invisible. Silently, invisible to both eyes and scanning systems, the group traveled south, out of the city, over the Pacific Ocean, bound for Antarctica and the Savage Land.