Chapter 14: She-Hulk Smash!
Author's note: I suppose that this chapter gets a squick warning. I suppose that the last chapter should have gotten a squick warning too. IMO, described scenes never go further than those in an EC comic, a '30s pulp, or certain Marvel issues. It is hard not to get a bit icky when Dr. Frankenstein and Black Talon are characters. Anyway, on to our tale.
Physics can be tricky when you're a superhero. She-Hulk assesses the stony structure sitting in the Massachusetts countryside. Hayes Manor has a shale roof through which She-Hulk's boots might shatter after the hulking heroine leaps high. However, upon arrival, her fall's force might also plummet her through the upper story's floor.
Or, Nosferata's house has a brick exterior through which Shulkie might leap into the uppermost story. The Nosferattic, her quarry's inner sanctum, is her destination either way.
Deciding, She-Hulk flexes her puissant legs. She soars high into the November night sky like a missile. Like a catapulted cannonball, she shall crash into Purple Hayes' castle. The Nosferattic probably has reinforced floors anyway.
Elsewhere, at that very moment, in Ohio, metaphysics can be tricky when you're an evil wizard. Baron Mordo looms over Black Talon who is suspended in mid-air as both magicians mutually levitate. Beneath Black Talon, black soot forms the veve, the voodoo symbol, summoning loa Sagbata—known as Baron Samedi in North America. Baron Mordo tosses upon the veve burning tobacco and a flagon of rum, for smoke and drink are some of Samedi's favorite things. Samuel Barone hopes that he is also one of the death god's favorite things, for Black Talon has been a faithful servant to Baron Samedi. Thus, Mordo and he hope that the loa of loss might grant a favor.
Such is their fervor that Karl and Samuel have even drawn another veve on the white marble of Canton's Crypt of Shadows. The two also call upon Sagbata's twin deity—the dreadful Damballah.
In unholy unison, Mordo and Barone chant and sway, their eyes rolled back. Abruptly, an unnatural dark fire ignites over the sable symbols scrawled on the floor. Impossibly, the soot lines ignite and blast a malodorous miasma throughout the entire Crypt of Shadows. In the thick supernatural smog, the meddling sorcerers cannot discern a thing except the sting in their eyes and the blinding black billows. Suddenly, from the beyond, Baron Samedi steps forth on the floating, caliginous fumes, and ophidian Damballah slithers from the fissured space beside him. Tipping his stovepipe hat, the skull-faced gent lifts the flagon in a toast and takes a deep swig. Tipping his shades, his burning orbs assesse the two fools who summoned him.
Elsewhere, in the East, Jen Walters busts through the ceiling above Dr. Victoria Frankenstein. She-Hulk lands beside her. Before the roused researcher, splinters and debris rain over some animated and agitated thing in a tin tray. The obscured, buried object (Grim Reaper's active undead head) is hidden from She-Hulk. However, other sights distract the heroine anyway. The green guardian gasps upon beholding three human heads in jars. One is old Savage foe the Grappler (in his mask), now a barbaric bauble. Another is Charles Delazny Jr. ogling his darling Jen Walters with dead eyes. The third is Commander Kraken as slack-jawed as a goldfish in a bowl.
A great, green hand seizes Victoria's shoulder. It cinches. The towering seven-footer addresses the seated woman, "Well now, that's a sick sight."
"No, I give them life!" the re-animator explains, "I am the doctor making the sick better."
With terribly tight grip, the Jade Giantess raises the wretch, "I assume that you're the mad scientist in this house of horrors."
"I am Dr. Frankenstein," Victoria informs.
"Of course you are," She-Hulk shakes her disgusted head, "I know Frankenstein's Monster [see Fear Itself: Fearsome Four LS]. He is better people than you."
"And, Nosferata is a better monster than you!" proclaims the Dark Princess from the shadows.
She-Hulk recognizes her old ally's voice and silhouette. The Avenger tosses Frankenstein aside and approaches her adversary. From the attic's expanse, Nosferata flings two masses in succession. First, a bola arrives and wraps directly around Shulkie's throat. Second, an explosive whizzes past Jen (a big target) and destroys some Hayes family heirlooms kept in the attic. Ninny Nosferata misses badly. Purple expresses some blue words.
However, competent Nosferata quickly activates the electrified bola. The deleterious device is hair-raising, and it does life Jen's locks and jars her earwax. However, the collar neither chokes nor stuns She-Hulk, so she simply snaps it off. She stares down Nosferata. She will not be kept at bay.
"I saw you coming, broad," Hayes harasses, "No threat escapes the notice of Nosferata!"
"Get a closer look at me then."
Leaping forward, She-Hulk bounds upon Nosferata's body before it can move. Seven hundred pounds slams a slim figure to the floor. She-Hulk slaps it across the face—and then stops a second. She stares puzzled.
"That's a dummy, dummy," the She-Bat taunts from the rafters overhead. Sans hesitation, the devious debutante detonates the decoy with a din. The booby-trap blows the C4 charge within. She-Hulk's breast concusses and propelled particles pelt her skin. The explosion makes her sneeze irritants and shake-off dust. But, it essentially leaves Jen unaffected, although further disaffected with her friend. She-Hulk blinks thrice and becomes a bit angrier.
"You would roil Nosferata in her roost?!" the She-Bat swoops from the ceiling.
She-Hulk swats the flier to the floor. Shaking her head, Jen wonders how the plummeting Purple planned to possibly injure her. The giantess jerks the journeyman to her feet. The Avenger slugs her ex-ally in the stomach, buckling the Benedict Arnold, and flicks a forceful finger off dainty philtrum, fattening her lip. The brute backhands the dumb bitch like a brickbat, and the flummoxed fink flips in a full circle before flopping to the floor. Squatting, She-Hulk coils an indigo cape about her huge hand. Standing, Jen snaps Purple off the ground. Walters rocks the raucous reprobate unreservedly rattling Hayes' bones and brains. The chafed heroine rips the rogue rat's chiropteran cowl from her head and takes mousy Hayes' built-in corrective lenses with it. The half-blinded She-Bat squints pathetically at her opponent.
Hazy of sight, hazy in the head, Ms. Purple Hayes pronounces, "I see that. . . . ."
"Shut up and surrender," She-Hulk instructs.
Nosferata retorts, "Aw shucks. But, I thought that I could be like Batman that one time that he bested your cousin the Hulk."
"That one time might have never happened," She-Hulk scoffs, "The supposed incident involved the Shaper of Worlds [see DC Special Series #27]. The Shaper of Worlds could do a lot of weird s*** with reality. Or, the reality might be that a simple-minded Hulk of that time mixed-up Batman and Defender pal Nighthawk. I shall have to wheedle facts from Living Tribunal the next time I see him."
Nosferata places her arms defiantly akimbo. She replies, "The story might or might not be canon. But, I do have a cannon just like in the story."
Woozy Purple points left. She-Hulk grows instantly concerned. Jen recognizes the glowing green eye in the attic darkness, and she knows that it is a gamma gun just like in the fictional story. Except, this gamma gun is real like the ones that Bruce Banner, Leonard Samson, Abomination, and a bunch of the gamma fraternity could tell you all about. And, if calibrated right, the gadget can strip a She-Hulk of her powers. And, if calibrated differently, it can fatally irradiate someone such as human Hayes.
Grinning, Purple presses a button on her utility belt. The gun aims automatically. She-Hulk cradles her crazy foe to protect her. Jen Walters is ever good even to her enemies. The device discharges a burning beryl beam that sets She-Hulk and Nosferata ghastly aglow. From somewhere nearby, the Avenger hears someone scream hard. But, she is unsure if it be Frankenstein (for some reason), Hayes, or herself.
Elsewhere, to the West, an eldritch glow illuminates the entire Crypt of Shadows. Suspended in a devilish triangle, Samuel Barone scintillates like an inferno, an evil mage at his apex, and two base gods at his base. Black Talon writhes and wails in agony as his flesh unnaturally wrings and runs like liquid. Fantastically, his usually firm form flows fluidly through four hundred miles of space as occult agents profanely transfuse Barone's whole body into his limb lying within the Bag of Infinite Capacity. Dark powers obscenely deliquesce their death priest from a dilated interdimensional canal. Somewhere abysmal, blood jets from an independent, mummified right forearm, and then a humerus bone juts from the same. Fresh flesh affixes upon a forming physique as foul forces rebirth Talon's right limb remains.
Anon, in Brooklyn, Bailey hears bellows from her Bag of Infinite Capacity, and Attache has never heard such from her namesake. She wonders what possibly could be in her domain that she doesn't ken. Curious, the young lady lopes to her preternatural purse. Here at the Ideahive, she feels safe enough to investigate this unexpected, auditory anomaly, for exceptional allies surround her. For example, Patsy Walker, a.k.a. Hellcat, stands but thirteen feet away (although she somehow doesn't seem to hear the horrific howls). Bailey opens the now undulating Bag of Infinite Capacity. She wonders what surprise is in the sack?
From the ensorcelled sack, a bone dagger stabs forth. It sticks Bailey through the face. Patsy hears her startling scream. Springing from her stilettos, Walker immediately jumps to aid her endangered ally. But, the Talon grasps gullet quickly and yanks Attache away in an instant. Barone pulls his prey into the Bag as into a pit. As Patsy pounces (at disappearing ankles), the Bag of Infinite Capacity ominously closes itself like a slamming coffin cover.
Within the weird vessel, a hot Haitian sun somehow blazes upon Bailey as her adversary fiercely hoists her petite flesh like a prize. Hemorrhaging heartily, semiconscious Bailey cannot quite discern her new scene. It is not one that the tote's typical mistress creates or controls. Black Talon slams Bailey onto a straw mat on stony, sandy soil. Over her, Black Talon boldly stands as fully garbed as she is now disrobed. Her eyes flutter. She gasps and gazes fearfully at the four male figures that surround her. Mordo extends a hand over her. Samedi sees her bare body reflected in his shades. Damballah flicks his serpentine tongue. Black Talon steps back and returns (to sight) with a machete. The voodoo vicar hoists the big blade—with both arms.
"My grateful sacrifice to you, my loa lords!" Barone proclaims.
The machete plummets and bisects Bailey at the abdomen, from belly to bone. Thankfully, unconsciousness nigh claims her—before Sagbata and Damballah do. The twin terrors take her two ends in their tenacious grips.
Baron Samedi grins, "Brother Damballah, tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the United States. Perhaps, we should make a wish with this ceremonial fare."
"Oh yes, let us split it," the Serpent concurs. Dreadful Damballah grimaces with grotesque glee over the gruesome goods offered in sick sacrifice by sordid sycophants Baron Mordo and Black Talon. The gutted gal goes slack. Bailey dies. The malevolent beasts tear their item in twain.
The fiend Damballah then distends to a towering height. His fingers eerily elongate along unmoving legs, and they constrict likes boas about ankles. The ophidian entity unhinges his jaw all the way to the earth. And, the snake god gobbles down his meal.
The death deity Baron Samedi holds Bailey's remains, and he gently strokes the limp lass' exsanguinated cheek. Like magic, the recently departed comes to a certain life. Stilled teeth chatter. Eyes shift. Limbs chop the air. Samedi scoops the zombie bride from the straw, and he steals the habitual thief into the dark Haitian foliage. So crosses the shoplifter and burglar the threshold into perdition.
"Well," the rooster-masked man clucks, "she met a very bad end for a very good cause—in my opinion." Black Talon wiggles the fingers of his right hand.
"Indeed, the Black Talon is back," Mordo replies, "Next, we even have another degenerate to regenerate. The Lethal Legion must last, don't you know."
Damballah speaks, "I shall go gather Eric Williams from the Atlantic sediment and fish feces. See you—and my next meal—in Massachusetts, Mordo." Giving a chilling chortle, the snake spirit disappears into the ether.
Karl Mordo exhales. He explains to Samuel Barone, "I must likewise momentarily go do some mischief. Please excuse me." Above Barone, Baron Mordo levitates into the Bag of Infinite Capacity's endless space.
Outside of the underworld, Patsy pulls at the purse, peeved that it does not open. Suddenly, the satchel does unseal itself. For a second, Hellcat beholds Baron Mordo floating in a black abyss. Then, a bright bolt stuns her, and she falls forward into the Infinite's aperture. Reeling Walker somersaults pell-mell into an unilluminated bottomless pit. Karl Mordo smiles. Striking Stephen Strange's old allies is ever fun. Gesticulating, the sorcerer seals the Bag's Brooklyn exit. Collapsing into itself, the Bag of Infinite Capacity returns to the Asgardian witch Casiolena, the enchanted object's original owner, in Niffleheim, plane of the dishonorable dead. Over her shoulder, the realm's ruler Hela observes.
Far from Hel, in Massachusetts, Jen Walters feels chilly except for Purple Hayes' hot huffing on her face and warm body pressed to her own. Hoping to protect Purple, She-Hulk has the errant heroine hugged tight as the gamma gun discharges. The gun completes delivering a massive dose of rads.
She-Hulk steps back in boots looser than usual and a slightly less snug one-piece. She is not surprised to see Jen Walters' thin, pink arms before her eyes. A glut of gamma rads can remove She-Hulk's powers temporarily. Jen looks at Purple—who approaches aggressively. Nosferata looks like she could feed on some prey. But, when her aspiring attacker arrives, Jen jabs forcefully and the puny human knocks Nosferata the fudge out. Trained martial artist or not, Nosferata is only sometimes a terror, and Jen Walters is always a warrior.
With a little concentration (and anger), She-Hulk returns to being her usual Sensational self. From a bit away, the heroine hears a scream echo through the attic. She investigates. This is the second scream that Jen has heard from Dr. Frankenstein's direction. Walters is really curious what all occurs over there.
Moments before, low researcher Victoria Frankenstein picks herself up from the floor. She watches She-Hulk go for Nosferata. A booby-trap detonates and blows dust over Frankenstein's face. She sneezes and hacks. Vexed, Madam Victoria vigorously wipes the smut from her mug and spits the silt from her mouth. Her stinging eyes and ringing ears discern and detect a din and duel at the attic's opposite end, and she sees that She-Hulk is still active. The Austrian aristocrat plans her escape. Any genius would think that Nosferata is outmatched anyway.
Across the chamber, the glowing green ray of the gamma gun fires radiantly. The mad doctor watches the blazing beam strike a hulking form. Hurriedly, Dr. Frankenstein stows a few precious possessions. Beneath some debris, her prize test subject sits—and seems to stir. Which is odd considering that Grim Reaper is but a detached head. Isn't he?
With bated breath, the bad biologist removes the debris. To Victoria's shock, she views an Eric Williams grown taller. The head has grown a neck on which to violently sway and clavicles that buttress it like crab legs. The seething supervillain silently shrieks. The disturbed scientist squeaks back.
Then, a puff adder pops forth from the Grim gaping mouth! Frankenstein nigh freaks, and she screams. For one thing, the adder is totally unexpected. For another, the six-foot snake strikes her. Its fangs sink right through her hand. Screeching, Dr. Frankenstein shakes the attached, thrashing viper. Impossibly winking, the snake whips itself lithely around, and it wraps the wretched woman's head from open mouth to wide eyes. With a good view, Damballah watches the Grim Reaper reform in the tin tray.
Effectively blindfolded, the mad scientist can only empirically hear the horror happening before her. Dr. Frankenstein hears the tin tray clatter as though overturned. She hears something thud on the floor. To her surprise, she hears a man wailing in this Nosferattic occupied only by live women—and dead men's remains. The villainess hears something like bare feet slap the floor. Then, she hears "B****, you are so f***ing dead!"
Sticking his tongue out, Damballah drops off and disappears into thin air. Victoria von Frankenstein gasps and gawks. Eric Williams stands restored before her.
"You're going to suffer!" shouts the resurrected lab rat.
Williams' stump nearly knocks the scientist's head off. Then, his whole hand cracks her one. The same hand snatches healthy arm and bites hard. Scarlet sprays and splatters into his mouth, and the zombie sucks and slurps salty serum. Vicki stares stunned. Seizing her throat, the Grim Reaper slams the woman against her desk and exam table. From a shelf, dead, desecrated villains look on in possible anticipation of justice.
"We're going to vivisect Victoria!" Eric Williams snarls.
"Sssorry, there's no time for that," someone says to the side.
Damballah, an eight-foot snake with four limbs, stands presenting a familiar six-foot scythe, "Samedi and I require a swift sacrifice for our services. We have sundry other sshh** to do tonight."
Williams offers his right limb. Dark god Damballah slams the steel home rightly. The Grim Reaper is reborn. His left yanks Frankenstein upright. He stares her down as she staggers about.
From nowhere, Baron Samedi nabs Victoria von Frankenstein. Sans warning, he steps from the shadows. Death whispers in her ear, "Your family has stolen back too many souls from me over the centuries—like one modern Prometheus after another. But, do you know what a scavenger, a vulture, did daily to that meddler?"
The Grim Reaper approaches—weapon raised. Victoria von Frankenstein screams as the blade swings and swings again. . . . . Perhaps, she wonders if Hercules will show-up to save her like in the myth.
Moments later, She-Hulk arrives. Jaded Jen studies the disturbing scene. The experienced Avenger assesses. Apparently, some monster got Frankenstein. However, no fearsome creature, besides Shulkie, stands here now. Rather, only a smallish snake stirs on the stained floor amongst the sanguine scene. Jen ignores it. It ain't gonna harm her. The Haitian tree snake slithers away, smirking.
She-Hulk studies the jars and feels sad. No scoundrel deserves such posthumous disrespect. The Avenger sighs.
Then, she inhales sharply.
She-Hulk notices that the jar labeled "Eric Williams" is empty. The crimefighter considers the victim's segments on the floor. Victoria's killer would have to. . . . .
The Avenger's communicator trills, interrupting her thoughts. It is Tony Stark calling from Syracuse.
An Avengers communicator also vibrates on Spider-Woman's hip and buttocks, two stories below.
"Stay down," the Web-Lady tells Freda Pfennigswert defeated on the floor.
During their donnybrook, the ol' German knew jujitsu well, and Jess figures that Freda might be an ex-intelligencer or something. However, Freda was merely more capable than expected but less capable than, let's say, a Wind Witch. Spider-Woman kind of mopped the floor with the housekeeper.
Jessica Drew draws-out her phone. It is Iron Man.