Polarity

by Chris Myers

When a Romero-style zombie outbreak hits, three supervillains, led by a long time loser, find themselves doing whatever it takes to save themselves, and eventually, the rest of humanity.

5. Oh Crap

"How you want your steaks done, Aleksei?"

"Medium, please."

"Four medium steaks," I told my guests, "coming right up."

Rhino sat on the couch I had designed for him. Combining the finest in illegally obtained Swedish furniture and long-lasting American workmanship, I had jammed together an Ikea futon and a Craftsman workbench to give him a place to rest his bones without having to worry about crashing through to the floor. I flipped the steaks over on the grill, searing the edges, as the three of us watched the breaking news on my flatscreen TV.

"Jesus," Boomerang said, "it's everywhere." The map of the United States was covered in red dots. Each one represented a report of assault, murder, or homicide that had been attributed to people acting like the mooks we had encountered outside the Bar with No Name. Every state had a dot somewhere inside its borders, with the majority of indicators clustered around the big cities: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Seattle, Pittsburgh, Dallas...

"We're getting word now from our London bureau..." The talking head, with his perfectly coifed hair and $1000 suit, held a hand to his earpiece for a moment. "...and we have confirmed, attacks by the affected individuals are taking place in the United Kingdom. London, Birmingham, and Belfast are reporting..."

The three of us were currently sitting in the warehouse serving as my current hideout. A few months ago, my old place of refuge had been compromised. A water main had broken on 18th Avenue, right above the abandoned subway station I had occupied for the previous few weeks. The water poured right into my workshop, and I barely managed to save most of the tools and components. I vacated right before the New York Water guys showed up with nearly everything, but that still left me without a roof over my head.

After spending a few days driving a moving van around New York City trying to find a new place, I got lucky. A couple months back, the Punisher had gotten a hold of Phineas Mason, aka the Tinkerer, and stabbed him in the back. Bastard left the guy paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Phineas put the word out that he was looking to get rid of his current hideout and wanted to unload it on someone "worthy." Getting to him took a big of roughhousing, as there were a ton of supervillains looking for a new hideout in the wake of the whole superpower registration mess. After beating off some of the competition (last I heard, Cyber had it out for me after I knocked out of his arms out of joint), I made it to Tinkerer and made him an offer. I'd help him do whatever modifications he needed to his wheelchair, but more importantly, I'd help him move all of his gear from his old hideout to his new one. Apparently, no one even thought to ask the guy in the wheelchair if he needed a hand with anything, but just offered him money, more money, and even more money. The guy supplies more weapons then anyone (save Justin Hammer and Madame Menace) and is rumored to have a pipeline to Doctor Doom. Money was the last thing he wanted. The old man just wanted a hand with the stuff he couldn't do anymore.

It took three days of lifting boxes, loading trucks, unpacking parts, and welding a barrel and bullet chamber to his wheelchair, but once it was done, the Tinkerer handed me the keys and the security codes to this place.

Once, this neighborhood had been a warren of abandoned and empty warehouses, used primarily by the Mafia for after hours clubs and the occasional body disposal. Over the past few years, most of TriBeCa has turned into block after block of trendy loft apartments and hip little shops. They missed a few warehouses along the way, or the mob paid off someone to not notice them. This place used to be an Import/Export company for some Sicilian concern before they got swept up in the RICO purges of the late 80's, and the building boom stopped a few blocks away in the 90's. It's in the middle of a nearly-abandoned industrial park, about a block from the water. The other warehouses, I don't think I've seen anyone go inside or out of them in the few months I've been here. Sure, someday some real estate company was going to notice a couple blocks of wasted industrial space they could turn into the latest maze of boutiques and coffee houses. Until then, though, this place was all mine.

About 3/4ths of the warehouse was filled with shipping crates. Phineas had set up a couple of traps and an escape hatch in the maze of boxes, and I added a few of my own as well. In case Spider-Man or some other hero broke in here, my plan was to make a run for it, and hope the traps held them off long enough for me to make a hasty exit. The traps aren't too complex, just flash-bangs, a couple of contact panels like the ones in my suit, and tripwires to send anyone coming after me sprawling right on their face. The escape hatch is inside an old Wells Fargo shipping container, and it leads down to a small underground garage that intersects with a storm drain, and that intersects with a small access road that'll get me the hell out of Dodge.

Of course, I had my workbench and a whole bunch of equipment and parts stashed away there too, but over the past few months, I've actually managed to make a little living area in one corner. It ain't the Upper West Side, but I got a bed, a stove with built-in grill, a table, a couple of couches, a TV (60" flatscreen, with cable, and the only thing in here I actually obtained legally), and a computer with wireless Internet. Just as good as an apartment, and rent-free too.

I pulled the steaks off of the grill and put them on plates. Rhino and Boomerang had beers, so I grabbed one from the mini-fridge before bringing everything over to them. "Here you go, guys."

"Thanks, Herman." Rhino's plate had two steaks on it, and he picked one up with his bare hand and started tearing into it. A bit of bloody juice ran down his chin as he chewed. "Damn, these are good."

"Glad you like it." I sat down on the couch next to him and starting cutting my steak as we all watched the TV. Speed Demon had left us back at the Bar with No Name, following through on his promise to run the guy who had staggered in all bloody to the hospital. He said he'd meet back up with us later.

I remember, at that point, that I was treating what had happened to me earlier tonight with a weird sense of calm. You gotta understand, we've seen some strange stuff here in New York City. This is a city where mutants battle symbiotes on a weekly basis, where demons can step into Central Park and get beaten back to Hell by Captain America singlehandedly, and where you can get attacked by your alien doppelganger during an attack on Avenger's Mansion in the morning and be having a beer during early afternoon happy hour.

Around here?

Strange is normal.

So even though there's a whole bunch of people, all over the world, who are going around attacking other people, that's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about the guy I killed. And the guy Speed Demon killed. And the guy Boomerang killed.

"Justifiable," Boomerang said when I brought it up. He sat down on a nearby easy chair, sipping from his American beer with a grimace. "Mate, they were going after a group of schoolkids. You ain't gonna find a jury in the Tri-State area who'd convict you after you saved a group of kids from those guys."

"Yeah, Herman," Rhino added. He had finished his first steak, and was slowly working his way through the second one, appearing to savor the taste of every bite. "They might even see you as a hero or something," he said good-naturedly.

"Good luck with that," I responded. "I can see it now. 'SHOCKER MOLESTS CHILDREN, KILLS WOULD-BE RESCUER'. Damn Daily Bugle..."

Aleksei gently swatted me on the back. I could feel my contact-panels go off with the gentle impact. "Don't worry. No one reads that rag anyway." I joined Boomerang in giving a chuckle to that comment.

The news was the same for the next half-hour or so. A couple of reports popped up, describing incidents in Tokyo, Sydney, Mumbai, and Windhoek. It was all second-hand, however. Testimonials from a doctor in Bogota a hospital about how someone with a slit throat came off the gurney to come after him. A video from Oslo of a multi-car accident, and the driver of the vehicle, engulfed in flames, pulling himself out from behind the wheel of his truck to lunge after a would be rescuer. And, played from Youtube on CNN, the victims of a homicide bomber in a Kabul marketplace getting back to their feet, limbs missing, chests blown open, stumbling towards the cameraman.

"Herman," Boomerang asked as we watched the crowd panic, several people falling victim to the burned and charred forms, "this can't be a virus, can it? It's spread all over the bloody world in, what, an hour?"

"Little longer then that, but yeah. Most viruses I know, even weaponized ones, they don't work this fast."

"Then what the hell is going on?"

I found myself leaning forward, studying the TV a bit closer. "Magic, maybe? Perhaps another alien invasion?" Having been posed a puzzle, my mind had started to study it. I was poking around the edges, probing, listening for some part to fall into place. That's how my mind tends to work when it comes to a problem. I treat it like a combination or a tumbler lock, and try to slide the right pieces into place. It's one of the reasons I'd go so long between jobs. Every angle had to be covered, and it had to be done with a minimum of innocent bloodshed. Eventually...click. It would all fall into place.

This time...nothing was coming to mind. This was something that I had never seen before. People who should have been unconscious, or even dead, were shrugging it off...

The tumblers didn't fall into place. My mind didn't make that connection. Or maybe it just didn't want to.

"Hey, guys." Rhino pointed to the TV. The talking head, still maintaining his perfect haircut in the middle of this crisis, was talking about breaking news. "They're gonna have a press conference or something." The deskbound anchor mentioned that the first official word from the federal government was going to come any minute now. CNN cut from the anchorman to an empty podium with a single microphone set up on top. We'd all seen it thousands of times before, but it was the tag they put on the bottom that got my attention.

"LIVE – S.H.I.E.L.D. HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK CITY."

"...in a few minutes, we'll be getting an official statement from the United States Government's Department of Health and Human Services regarding the wave of violence that had swept the country. Also in attendance will be Colonel Nick Fury, current head of S.H.I.E.L.D, and Ms. Marvel, the leader of the Avengers, and they will be making brief statements on the situation at hand..."

"The Avengers? SHIELD? This is big, Herman," Rhino said after he finished his steak.

"Well yeah, Aleksei, this is world-bloody-wide," Boomerang retorted. "You're probably gonna get the capes up there, tellin' everyone to remain calm, this will be under control soon, and above all else, don't pay any attention to the lasers and burning buildings and Iron Man throwing Captain America through a window."

Rhino stared at Fred for a second. "You think they're gonna start fighting again? I thought Cap surrendered last summer."

"Oh, Christ, Aleksei..." Fred laughed. "Didn't mean it like that, mate. Never mind." He finished off his bottle of beer, and after disposing of it in the trash can with a perfect skyhook, Boomerang's voice turned serious. "Alright, mates. Here's what I'm thinking." He leaned forward on his chair, looking at the two of us. "We take a page out of Herman's book, and go find us a supermarket. Between the three of us, we clean the place out of water and food, bring it back here, and just wait for the desperate fat cats to use all that bailout money to stock up buying our overpriced goods."

I nodded half-heartedly. It was a good plan. Selling horded goods had made me a lot of money during several previous disasters. On the other end of the couch, though, I could see Rhino shaking his head. "I don't like that idea, Fred."

"Why not! Solid plan, worked for Herman here," the Australian said as he nodded in my direction, "and if we go now before there's a run on stuff, we can make a killing and keep our exposure down to a minimum. Let the heroes do all the heavy lifting while we sit here and play black market."

"I don't like that idea, Fred," Aleksei repeated. "Taking the money of rich people is fine by me, but what if someone shows up at the store who needs water or food, but it's all gone because we took it?"

"Screw em, they should have moved faster," Fred replied.

Rhino's eyes narrowed a bit at the Australian. "No, Boomerang," he rumbled, a bit of bass in his voice.

"Christ...I didn't think you'd take it so seriously, Rhino. Alright, alright...alright, how about this? We take...we take the stuff, but we leave half of it on the street, right? Anyone who wants to grab it for free, they can, alright? They don't have to pay the supermarket, and odds are the rich guys ain't gonna be street level anyway. How's that sound to you?"

My grey-skinned friend nodded. "That'll work." I could help but shake my head. There was no way just the three of us could have come close to cleaning out a whole supermarket anyway. But that was Aleksei for you. More then a lot of villains I knew, he was someone who tried to look out for anyone innocent, anyone who was in his way by accident. Get in his way, and Rhino would run you over before you could blink. Fall in his way? He'll pick you up, put you to the side, and get right back to smashing things.

"Alright, so where's the nearest super..." Boomerang was going to say more, but he got distracted, as the principal players in the press conference made their appearance.

Yep. Right there in glorious high-definition, the best pair of spandex covered knockers in the business.

I remember some guy in a suit, and of course Colonel Nick Fury would end up dominating the whole show in a little bit. At the very beginning, though...blonde haired, blue-eyed, and looking like she could kick anyone's ass, all of our attention was on the statuesque leader of the Avengers, Ms. Marvel, standing next to Colonel Fury behind the podium.

"That, guys," I said, pointing to her. "Right there, next year, my birthday. I want that, or as freakin' close to it as you can get."

"Forget that, mate, I'll be cutting in line ahead of you!" Boomerang whistled as she turned to observe the crowd of reporters, stretching a bit in her uniform. "Seriously, look at those damn legs. Woman would break me in half and I'd smile the entire time. Hell, I'd bet she could probably crack Rhino open and give him a whirl."

"I don't think she could, Fred." A few seconds of silence passed before I saw a smirk appear on the big guy's face. "But if she wants to try, I wouldn't tell her no."

By the time we had stopped laughing, the suit had been speaking for a few seconds. "...we won't be answering many questions at this time, because we still don't know what exactly we're up against. But we will release what information we have." The guy looked nervous, coughing slightly, holding the sides of the podium tightly with both hands. I'd seen that look before. I've lost track of the times I've seen that look before. A look like that, a guy acting that way? He doesn't have your money, and he's about to spin you a tale of utter bull.

"We have confirmed reports, ladies and gentlemen, of an epidemic of mass murder that is being committed, here in the United States and around the world, by an army of unidentified assassins. These attacks are taking places in villages and cities, in rural homes and suburbs with no apparent pattern or reason for these slayings. It appears to be a sudden general explosion of mass homicide. Eyewitnesses say that they are ordinary looking people, and some say that these attackers appear to be in a kind of trance. As of this moment, SHIELD has been mobilized to assist local and state law enforcement agencies, and several states are preparing to call up their National Guard units as well. The Avengers, as well, have been called upon to assist during this time of crisis."

"Christ...after the whole registration mess, they're going to the Avengers so soon? This must be huge," I muttered. Boomerang waved a hand to keep me quiet as the guy continued his spiel.

He was staring directly into the camera, reading off the teleprompter in a neutral tone, save for the occasional cough. "The official word, at this hour, is for private citizens to stay inside behind locked doors. Do not venture outside for any reason until we can determine, for certainty, the nature of this crisis. Keep listening to radio and television for special instructions. If you are at your place of employment, we urge you to stay there and not make any attempts to get to your homes. We repeat, the safest course of action at this time is simply to stay where you are. The President has called for a meeting of his Cabinet to deal with this epidemic of murder that has seized the world, and will convene within the hour. Members of his Cabinet will be joined by officials of the FBI, Homeland Security, SHIELD, and military advisors."

He looked away from the teleprompter. "Ms. Marvel and Colonel Fury have statements as well, but I will try to answer any questions I can."

And the reporters exploded.

Now the poor guy looked overwhelmed. Sitting there talking about a problem is one thing. Having twenty or thirty of the media's most rabid in your face, screaming a question that you have no clue what the hell the answer is...it's like saying "don't worry, I'll handle the customers when we rob the bank" and then having the damn Black Knight kick in the front door and charge you while screaming "FOR CAMELOT!" All the poor schmuck could do was point to one of the reporters. "Mr. Jones, do you have any idea what caused this outbreak of murder?"

"Um...at this time, we can't say for sure, but we have several theories we are looking into..."

The reporter cut him off. "Is this the precursor to some kind of worldwide alien invasion?"
"I...I can't speculate for sure." The same reported tried to shout out another question, but the guy, Jones, pointed to one in the back, this one a female.

"Mr. Jones, does the mobilization of the National Guard units in several states mean that we're possibly under some sort of military attack, maybe by a bioweapon of some sort?"

"Uh, these attacks have occurred around the world, and as I said, the Guard is being mobilized to help assist local law enforcement in keeping the roads and railways open..."

"That bloke is in way over his head." Boomerang spoke from back near the "kitchen" area. He had popped open another beer, grimacing as he took a sip of the weak lager. "Seriously, why the hell would you send him out there, knowing the poor buggers going to get eaten alive?"

I watched as Jones wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Probably so the government can show they're doing something about this. Making the public thing it's all going to be ok once they figure out what's going on. Plus, the news ain't showing the footage of those guys while this guy's up there..."

After a few more questions, one of the reporters, who hadn't spoken yet, calmly raised her hand. Jones nodded to her. "I'd like to address this question to Colonel Fury. Colonel, can we ask how SHIELD is involved in all this? Is your organization taking the point in this crisis?"

The old war hero stepped to the podium. Where Jones was unsure and unsteady, this guy was a damn rock. "As of right now, SHIELD is mobilizing on a national level to assist the FBI and the Department of Defense in their handling of this problem," he growled. "Units across the country are assisting in keeping the American citizen safe from these attackers, as well as providing logistical support while we try to figure out what exactly is going on."

"If I may interrupt, Colonel?" Ms. Marvel stepped closer to the podium, allowing the mics to pick her voice up clearly. "The Fifty State Initiative is also currently mobilizing to provide assistance during this crisis. The call has been put out, and all registered heroes are reporting to their posts."

"Ms. Marvel, what kind of support will the Initiative be offering," the blonde reporter questioned.

"Aside from providing any logistical support we can, we will also be on the lookout to ensure certain elements do not attempt to take advantage of the current situation to stir up their own mischief." She leaned closer to the microphone, his voice lowering in tone as she spoke. "If they do, then we have been authorized by the Secretary of Defense to deal with them immediately, and with the full extent of the Initiative's authority. But hopefully, that won't be a problem."

Us three got quiet at that statement. It was the forcefulness in her voice. Fifty teams of super powered individuals on active alert, apparently with government sanction to beat guys like us into the ground...

"And that's why that had this press conference." I leaned back in the couch, smirking to myself. "Not just to reassure people the government's trying to do something about the people walking around killing other people, but that there isn't going to be anyone like us trying to take advantage..."

"Forget that, "Boomerang snorted. "Guys like Hawkeye are gonna have enough on their hands to worry about me grabbing a few cases of bottled water from a damn Walgreen's."

"That's because you're a bleeding idiot, Fred." I'm kidding, I'm kidding," I quickly apologized when I realized the man was holding a glass projectile in his hand. "But the standard criminal, he'll see it and stay the hell out the streets, thinking that Spider-Man or Hawkeye's gonna show up as he's lifting a couple of Bluetooths from the Radio Shack on the corner."

"Yeah, but where does that leave us, mate?"

I was standing up, getting ready to pull my mask back down over my face. "It means we don't got too long to rob that superma..."

WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!

"Attention, attention, containment breach in laboratory number 4."

Our attention snapped right back to the TV. Ms. Marvel was still at the podium, but now she, like Mr. Jones and the other reporters, were all standing there, craning their necks with confused looks on their faces. All except Colonel Fury. As flashing emergency lights began to rotate on the ceiling of the room they were holding the press conference in, the guy was already pulling out his pistol and checking the slide. "You stay here and keep everyone calm," the microphone picked up his statement to Ms. Marvel. She nodded, and while she held up her hands, Fury turned and started walking away, towards a door on the wall behind them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm, I'm sure whatever it is, SHIELD will get it under control in a few moments..." I don't know if anyone was listening to her, though. Mr. Jones's face, I could see, had gone white. Completely drained, pants-crapping white. A few reporters seemed to pick up on the change in his demeanor. Some of them took the chance to pepper him with more questions.

"Mr. Jones, are we under attack?"
"Is it some of the affected, Mr. Jones?"

"Ms. Marvel, are we safe here?"
"As I said, SHIELD will get this under control quickly," the Avengers' leader responded. "There are guards at every door, and I'm sure Colonel Fury..."
I admit, at the time, I was watching Ms. Marvel intently. Her having her arms up, hands out, trying to exude calm and confidence, was doing wonders for her rack. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fury leaving the room through the open door...and something was following him, double-time.

Someone, specifically. It took me a few seconds to realize who it was, and what they were carrying on their shoulder. I grabbed the remote control and quickly flipped up a few channels.

"The hell, mate?"

"The guy from Fox News is following Fury." I flipped past CNN, MSNBC, and Headline News, all of which were showing Ms. Marvel from different angles. But when we landed on Fox News, we cut from her to the broad back of Nick Fury.

The Colonel was stalking down a metal hallway. It was instantly recognizable to anyone who had ever been in an underground lab, a research facility, or a HYDRA base. Seriously, for the longest time I swore thought there was a company out there making pre-fabricated hallways for secret underground complexes. The emergency lights in here was flashing red, spinning in their plastic cylinders. Fury must have been really, really focusing on what was happening, because the cameraman was almost right on his ass, but he didn't notice, or if he did, he really didn't care. The cameraman was moving quick, and keeping his mouth shut as well. He just followed Fury down to the end of the hallway.

Once there, Fury turned to the right, and that's when I heard the footsteps. A whole bunch of them. Barreling down the hallway towards him was a SHIELD agent. She had an automatic weapon in her hand, submachine gun by the look. When she saw Fury, almost immediately, I'm talking "oh-crap-it's-the-boss" speed, she skidded to a stop. The woman actually sketched off a salute before Fury waved his hand at her. "What the hell's going on? We got a breach? Daniels, report."

"Sir," the woman replied. She had managed to catch her breath, and was doing a damn good job of speaking clearly and evenly. "We were standing guard outside the lab when we heard screaming and a weapons discharge. When we headed inside...sir, when we got inside, Dr Beinmann was attacking Sergeant Coleman, along..." She paused in her sentence, eyes narrowing. Daniels was looking directly into the camera, realizing who was standing behind Colonel Fury. "Um, sir..."

"Daniels, what happened to Coleman!"

The barking question from Fury snapped her attention right back to the Colonel. "Sir, the scientist was attacking Coleman...along with the specimen, sir."

"Along with the specimen?" Fury's voice rose in volume, building in anger too. "And why the hell are you out here? The entire lab should be in quarantine right now because of the alert!"

"Sir, the airlock doors didn't shut. McKenzie and Gordon are back there standing guard, sir, and sent me to find to get backup there as soon as possible."

"There should already be a full containment team on standby in case this happened!" Daniels started to protest, but Fury waved her down. "It ain't your fault, Daniels, it's the damn budget..."

The sudden sound of automatic gunfire cut through the air. Instantly, he was on the move. "Damn it! Come on." Fury pushed past the woman heading back down the red-lit hallway in the direction she had come. But instead of falling immediately fell in step behind the Colonel, Daniels turned to the cameraman. "Sir, this is a restricted area, you need to le..."
"DANIELS, MOVE IT!"

Christ. They don't call him the Howling Commando for nothing. Fury's yell would have blown out my speakers under the right circumstances, if his order to Daniels was an indication. Daniels spun in place, and double-timed it to where Fury was. He was speaking into a communicator as he walked. "Command, Fury, I want a full team down in Lab 4 ASAP, as in yesterday, full weapons, full armor, Delta protocols."

The cameraman kept pace as well.

I was on an episode of "Cops" once, when the show was focusing on Code: Blue, the NYPD SWAT team dedicated to taking down supervillains when the capes aren't around. A bank job had taken longer then I had expected, and by the time I walked out, ten officers and a cameraman were sitting outside waiting for me. Getting past the Code: Blue guys was a cakewalk, but as I'm running down the street, holding two duffel bags full of cash, the only guy managing to keep up with me? The damn cameraman! Hauling down the block, keeping that damn light on me the entire time!

I had to admit, though, throwing a level-two that sent him into a pile of garbage bags? Not a bragworthy career highlight, but one of my personal favorite moments.

I remember all three of us were silent at this point in the evening. Something had escaped containment at SHIELD HQ, and Nick Fury was going to take charge and deal with a "specimen" directly. It had to be a guy like the ones we had tangled with earlier. What else could it be? Ok, maybe some kind of parasite, or symbiote thing that possessed or infected human beings and made them crazed psychopaths who could take a massive beating...

There's a Sinister Six joke in there somewhere. Find it yourself.

It takes a couple more turns, and then Fury and the female agent were standing in front of an airlock. Fury took one look at the structure before giving an inappropriate curse. "Why are both of these doors open? They should have closed when the alarm went off!" The gunshots were closer now, rapid stuccatos punctuated with a desperate cry. Fury had his pistol in hand, a chrome-plated .45, and the female had her machine gun at the ready. All the cameraman had was his equipment, but he followed those two straight through the airlock and what had to have been the lab area.

In that part of the building, the emergency lights were ceiling strobes, flashing brightly on the TV screen, but the normal lights had stayed on. The lab area was bright white, windowed rooms and offices on either side of the corridor. Fury had taken about five steps inside the lab area, before coming to a stop. He glanced to his right, and muttered something under his breath. The camera swung to the right as well, letting us see what had brought him to a halt.

The lab was trashed. Broken vials and test tubes littered the floor with shards of glass, mixed in with expended brass shells. A microscope and computer monitor had been knocked over onto their sides. And, splashed across the window like paint, a long, thin line of dripping red liquid. The door to the office was wide open as well, recessed into the wall. The camera panned down to the floor for a second, trying to catch the scope of the damage. What it showed the world was a long, dark bloodstain. It came out of the lab, and followed a zig-zagging pattern down the hallway. Several footprints were evident as well, a bit of white tile in a river of deep red. The shot lifted, moving up and following the stain. It reached down the hallway to an overturned gurney. The camera picked up the glint of several more shells lying in the middle of the pooling blood. It also was picking up some sort of sound...something that sounded like ripping paper.

"Daniels, that machine gun is loaded, right?"

"Safety's off, sir."

"Was that the lab the eggheads were using?"

"Yes, sir."

"No other specimens any where else in the lab?"

"Not that I'm aware, sir."

"Alright. McKenzie! Gordon! Report!" Silence met his request, and did so again when he repeated himself. "Anyone's back there, we are authorized to use lethal force, so anyone alive back there, you better say so now!"

Silence again.

Fury looked at Daniel with his eye narrowed. "You stay here, and keep an eye on that lab," he said, motioning with his head towards the stained window. Anything moves, you shoot it. And shoot to kill. Got it?" The woman nodded, bringing up her machine gun. As she covered the doorway, Fury held his pistol in both hands, a classic shooter's grip, and started to move deeper into the lab. The cameraman immediately chose to follow him. He moved around Daniels' back, always keeping the lens directly on the head of SHIELD.

The guys at CNN and the other networks had to be kicking themselves. I wanted to flip back and check out the press conference, just to see if they were still focusing on Ms. Marvel and the in-need-of-new-pants Mr. Jones. I also wondered if someone at SHIELD or in Washington was screaming for someone to cut Fox News' feed, because right now, that network was showing SHIELD's lab facilities to the entire world, and they had a good chance of catching this "specimen" on live TV for everyone to see, to show everyone what might be causing this crisis.

Fury was moving slowly and methodically. He passed several closed lab doors, all attention given to the front. The cameraman was behind him, back several feet, following Fury following the blood stain. It didn't take long for them to reach the gurney lying on its side. The fabric had begun to soak up a bit of the blood, a small line of red in stark contrast to the white cotton.

"Stay back," Fury said, "and don't get in my way."

Suddenly, the Colonel's hand shot out. He grabbed the edge of the gurney, and swung it to the side. It slammed into the wall with a loud crash, and I ain't gonna lie that it made me jump a little bit. Fury was already bringing his gun up, and snarled "move and I blow both your..."

You ever had an "oh crap" moment? Those precious little moments in life when you realize the situation you're in has just gone to complete and utter hell? For some people, it's "oh crap, I don't got enough in my account to cover the mortgage." For others, it's "oh crap, I forgot my girlfriend's birthday." For others, it's "oh crap, that's Spider-Man's fist about six inches from my face."

Having an "oh crap" moment happen to you sucks. Watching someone else have one can sometimes be hilarious. Watching Colonel Nick Fury, leader of the Howling Commandos, head of SHIELD, one of the few people who could tell Iron Man to "get lost" and pull it off?

Watching him have a moment, live on a worldwide news network, went a long way to driving home just how screwed all of us really were.

"Oh, crap," he murmured.