"Last of it, Herman." Rhino stretched his arms above his head, and I pulled the large box through the grate and onto the floor of the warehouse. It landed with a bit of a crash, the metallic contents inside shifting at the impact.

"Christ, you guys didn't mess around," Boomerang said, holding two crates of bottled water. "We got enough stuff to last us until Gabriel blows that final trumpet."

"Nice image, Fred," I groused as I took one of the crates from him.

"Picked it on purpose, Herman. Dead rising from the graves? Judgment Day might come by the end of this week." Rhino climbed out of the hole, closing the grate behind him with a loud squeal, before grabbing the box. The three of us brought the last of the goods inside, heading towards the makeshift pile just beside the kitchen area.

After leaving Sergeant Wallace, the ride back had been smooth. A few ghouls were visible on the West Side Highway, but the warehouse district, as least from what I could see in the darkness, was zombie free. Driving around to the storm drain, the problem of backing the trailer into the tunnel was solved by a simple and proper application of overwhelming force, namely Rhino taking a hold of the trailer and dragging it down the tunnel, breaking no more of a sweat then if he was pushing a wheelbarrow. The Hummer was parked right behind the storm drain, its grille directly against the bars to make sure it couldn't be pushed open. Ashley and Robert immediately took the kids into their custody as Rhino, Boomerang and I began to unload the trailer. I kept Fred up top so he couldn't see the booty that was tucked into the back of the trailer. Not out of greed, but...money made Fred do stupid things. I knew he had a firm grasp on what was going on, but adding bags of money and a suitcase full of gold bars to the mix...it'd hinder more than help, I was sure of it.

Mark and Sally were already digging into some sandwiches when we brought the last of the stuff over. "Alright, everyone," I called out. "We're back, we're in one piece, and we got a whole bunch of stuff. If you ain't busy, we could use a hand sorting it all. Aleksei, can you get Peter and Anne to handle the foodstuffs? Ashley, we grabbed a whole bunch of shampoo, soap...and yeah," I said in response to her look, "your special request is in that brown paper bag. You get to handle the toiletries for now, ok? And Robert, me and you, let's try to split up the rest. We'll start with the medicine."

I looked up at Aleksei, catching him in mid-yawn. "You ok, big guy?"

He shook his head. "Just tired. We did a lot of walking and running today, Herman. I'm feeling beat. Not just physically tired, but..." In a moment of self-awareness, Aleksei smiled at me. "My brain feels drained, too."

"We had a long day, man, between welding, lifting, and rescuing. You did most of the heavy lifting, Aleksei." I studied the stuff laid out on the table in front of us for a second, before waving a hand at him. "It's 1 am. Go grab some sleep. I can finish it up here."

He shook his head. "I'm fine, Herman."

"I'm sure you are, but really, if you're feeling tired...you got the constitution of an ox on steroids sucking on a ginseng shake. Your body must really be running on empty if you of all people are about to crash. It's ok," I told him before he could speak, "we're almost done here anyway. Get some shuteye, Aleksei."

"Ok, Herman." He turned away from the pile, and lumbered towards the reinforced futon. I watched the big guy move away, hoping he felt alright. Between cleaning out the drug store, charging the hallway to rescue Mark and Sally, and breaking through the wall to get us out of the apartment building, not to mention the moving of all the supplies, plus being cramped in the front of the Hummer for a while...he had endurance, but mentally, that had to wear on anyone, even a bulldozer like Aleksei.

Myself? I was just starting to feel tired, at the edges of my vision. The strong coffee was keeping it at bay, though. Black, no cream, no sugar, just the way I liked it when I was spending a late night at my workbench, working on my gloves or my armor. I felt sore, but not tired. Of course, once the caffeine wore off, I would probably end up falling asleep where I was standing, but for now, the strong, bitter blend was just the eye-opener I needed.

"Aleksei's going to sleep?" Robert, his coffee mug willed with coffee and sugar, came up beside me. "I'm surprised you're still on your feet, Herman."

I shrugged, holding up my mug. "I'm used to late nights."

"Yeah, I guess you are...I mean," Robert nervously backtracked, "not that I...you know what I'm saying, right?"

"I know," I told him with a smile. "How's everything else?"

"Pretty well stocked," Robert replied. "I'm thinking, if we don't eat too much, two weeks, maybe three if we're careful." He shook his head after sipping at his brew. "I'm hoping this all blows over by then, but...if it doesn't, we're prepared."

"How are Mark and Sally?"

"Sleeping. They ate dinner, and then collapsed. I hope you don't mind, but I put them in your bed...it was the only one open at the time. I can lay down an air mattress later, but for now..."

"Eh. I can crash on a futon. Let them get some sleep."

"Ok. Is this the last of it," he asked, nodding with his head towards the stuff on the table. Containers of batteries of all sizes, boxes of clock radios, several remote controlled toys, it was an eclectic mix of electronics.

"Yeah. I'll get it over to my workbench in a few minutes."

Robert eyed the collection. "Ok, the batteries I can understand, but the other stuff...this is what you use to build your gloves," the construction manager asked.

"Not quite. It's what I use to patch them." I pointed to one of the boxes, which contained a remote controlled racing car based off a hit children's movie a few summers ago. "I use stuff like that as a stop-gap, until I can get better equipment. I'm pretty set for now, but in case of an emergency, the wiring and processors...I can jury-rig them in."

"You're kidding me. Where the hell did you get your engineering degree from, Herman? I'm not an electrical engineer, but I know enough to say that it's pretty damn impressive..."

I shrugged. "Self-taught. Some high school Vo-Tech, but everything else I picked up by myself."

Robert shook his head in amazement. "Well, it's a shame you didn't go legit, Shocker. Lord knows what kind of career you could have had as an electrical engineer, if you built your gloves by yourself. Probably could have wired the new Trade Center by yourself, save me a fortune on contractors."

I had heard it before. Herman, you're so smart, you should have a real job. You're brilliant, General Electric would snap you up in a heartbeat. Points to Robert, though, coming off as non-judgmental.

"Eh...I knew from a young age the straight and narrow wasn't my path, Robert," I answered firmly. "I complain...but I can't complain. Sitting behind a desk or running wires through ductwork...just wasn't meant for me. Maybe it meant late nights, living on Raman and Mountain Dew, and getting my face punched in every now and again. But I set my own hours, only have to work a few days a month, and no one can say my life ain't boring. Especially the past few days."

He sighed, a weary smile on his face. "The Catholic in me wants to lecture you on your life choice, Herman. But the pragmatist will just thank you again for your hospitality, and ask if you want a hand moving this stuff to your workbench."

"Nah, I got it." I started to gather up the items, pulling them towards the end of the table. "Tell you what, Robert. Aleksei and I were having a conversation earlier along those lines. Tomorrow, when we get bored of watching TV, we'll talk some more."

Robert cocked his head to the side, studying me. "Herman, I don't want to force you to talk. I'm not here to play therapist, or show you the error of your ways."

"Ain't that, Robert. Just figured...it'd be nice to have someone to talk to along with Rhino. Big guy's my friend...but he ain't much for conversation, you know?"

"Um...excuse me, Herman?"

I knew the accent. I just hadn't heard it spoken in English...with English? And can an accent be spoken? Behind Robert and I, Peter, the baker friend of Aleksei's, stood, hands clasped in front of his chest. He had a worried look on his face, and stared at me with wide eyes.

"Hey, Peter," I said. "Is everything ok?"

"Is...my wife, Anne." He motioned towards the kitchen over his shoulder. His wife sat in one of the chairs around the dining table, chin in her hand as she appeared to be taking a nap. "When you come back with Aleksei from the outside...her medicine. Not there."

"Medicine?" I looked over at Robert, who had stocked the medicine we brought back, as I asked, "I don't think we forgot anything. What kind of medicine?"

Peter put his arm out. Just above the inside of his elbow, he tapped the skin. "Insulin."

Oh, crap. My hand went to my forehead, slapping it lightly. "Oh, damn it, Peter! I'm sorry...yeah, it was on the list. I totally forgot to grab it in everything. I'm sorry, man." I glanced over at Anne. "Is she ok?"

"She ok for tonight and tomorrow morning. After...not so well."

Damn it. I remember thinking to myself to grab the insulin from the refrigerator in the back of the pharmacy while Rhino grabbed the pills, but when Aleksei couldn't read the long words, I took over...and completely forgot about the insulin. Damn it, Herman. Get a trailer, save two kids, forget the insulin. Nice job, hero.

Good news, though, this time we had the Hummer, and could take it out without leaving those left in the warehouse without a ride. If we went back out now, before it got light...

"Ok, Peter. We'll go get some insulin," I told him.

The baker's face broke in a smile, and he put out his hand. "Thank you, Herman," he said, giving me a firm shake with his calloused hand.

"Don't mention it. It's my fault for forgetting the insulin in the first place." I let go of Peter's hand, and he went back towards the dining table where his wife napped. "Damn it," I muttered once he was out of earshot. "Damn it, I knew...it went too smooth. That whole little trip out went too smooth. I was going to mess something up, I just..." I shook my head at Robert in frustration. "It was on the list, too. Just skipped right out in my mind."

"Hey, don't knock yourself." Robert swept his arm to encompass the warehouse. "You got a lot of stuff and rescued two children. It happens, Herman. And you can fix it, right?"

"Yeah, yeah...we can hop in the Hummer and go back...wait. No, crap," I cursed. "That block's crawling with those things still, I'm willing to bet. Damn it."

"Ok, find another drug store. You got the Hummer, like you said. You're not packing a shopping list this time out. Smash and grab, Herman...you're good at those, right," Robert teased. "Just keep your eyes open, in, out, you're back here. No problems."

I managed a small chuckle. "I said that last time Aleksei and I went out, and looked how that ended up. Alright, the longer I spend here bitching, the less darkness we have to work with. Let me grab Aleksei and we'll get right out there."

I had just started heading towards the living area when I heard the snoring. Aleksei's broad back was towards me as he slept on the bed, face towards the wall. He still had his armor on. I didn't know whether he had made a conscious effort to keep it on, like last night, in case of emergency, or if he had just conked right out the second he got near the futon. On the couch, across from the two televisions, one showing the government feed and the other still showing the pirate signal from Versus, Boomerang was sprawled out, one arm flung across the chest, his other dangling towards the floor, his mouth wide open as he slept. The chairs were claimed by Ashley and Ernesto, both of them using the armrests for pillows. Aside from myself, Ernesto, and Peter, who was sitting next to Anne as he held her hand, the only other person awake was Bobby. I approached where he was sitting, his head hunched over the keyboard. "How's it going, Bobby," I asked him as I grabbed my vibro-smashers from their charging station.

"I've sucked down enough Mountain Dew to kill a man in his late sixties. So, you know, it's a typical night for me," he joked. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, but his fingers tapped away at the keyboard even as he looked in my direction. He glanced at my gloves as I slid them over my hands. "You heading back out?"

"Yeah. I forgot to grab some insulin for Anne, and I want to get it before the sun comes up. I got the Hummer downstairs. Shouldn't take very long." As my gauntlets ran through their initialization process, I looked at the monitor. "What are you looking at?"

"YouTube," Bobby replied, tapping at the screen with a finger. "A lot of people are posting videos about what's going on. Some people are calling for help, and some are talking about how this is all some kind of government conspiracy. But occasionally...this one I'm watching now. This girl from Vermont was trapped in her house, but her family showed up and rescued her. And this one," Bobby said, opening up a new window. "This guy, Max, from Israel, he's showing how you can turn a shovel into a zombie killing weapon."

"Wow. That's pretty impressive," I said as I watched the video of a middle-aged guy shearing down the spade-end of a garden shovel. "I'm surprised the government hasn't cracked on this kind of stuff yet."

"Can't stop the signal, Herman," Bobby replied with a hint of pride in his voice. "They've tried, but there's ways around it. Just have to know where to look."

"How do you know where to look, Bobby? This part of your audio/video classes?"

"Nah. Bit Torrent. I usually download the latest 'Doctor Who' episodes right after they air in England. I got a crash course in proxies and spoof IP's." He smirked at me. "Found some neat videos, too. You know a guy named Batroc?"

"Yeah...Batroc the Leaper. Dumb name, bad ass fighter. Savate, that French kickboxing martial art. I've seen him go toe-to-toe with Captain America and hold his own. Why?"

"Well, check this out." Bobby clicked open a new YouTube window, and ran a search. I couldn't make out what he typed, but after a few seconds, he tapped the screen. "Watch this."

The video was taken from a camera phone, the screen shaking like it was the latest "Bourne" movie. And screaming. A lot of screaming. The shot itself was taken from behind a barred window, thick metal protecting it from being broken. Beyond the window was a cobblestone street, narrow and winding. Five zombies lurched down the street, heading for a corner where two walls came together. In the corner, a young girl, no more than Sally's age, screamed her head off. She had her arms over her head, trying to push back into the corner, as far away from the ghouls as possible. They closed the distance fast, not once wavering...

A purple-and-gold blur leaped into the shot. A leg extended in mid-air, and the creature at the back of the pack crumpled to the ground as a foot slammed into its eggshell thin temple.

"NON CELUI-CI, CREATURES VILES!"

I didn't understand French, but I knew the handlebar-mustached figure had to be one pissed off frog. I had never worked with Batroc, but he was on the list of "people with stupid names who will kick your ass" that I keep in my head. Like a shot, two more zombies went down as Batroc stepped between them, and rocketed elbows into their temples. "Jesus," I proclaimed at they dropped to the cobblestones. In the time it took me to blaspheme, Batroc had one more ghoul out for the count, an elbow strike to its nose that probably drove bone fragments into its brain, like flechettes, to deactivate it.

The last ghoul, finally, figured out what was happening. It turned away from the girl...just at Batroc lashed out with his foot, catching the zombie dead in the jaw. It slammed into the wall hard enough to kill it, leaving a trail of blood and brain as it slid down the wall.

The bastard wasn't even panting as he stepped over the ghouls. Five down in eight seconds, according to the video. All with his hands and feet. He crouched down, and extended one hand towards the cowering little girl.

"Venez, enfang. Je vous prendrai a la maison."

The girl slowly extended her hand, with Batroc, mercenary, fighter-for-hire, took in his yellow glove. As he stood up, the Frenchman looked directly at the person holding the camera phone, a harsh glare on his face.

"Dissimulation derriere l'acier tandis qu'un enfant est mis en danger. Vous n'etes aucnu fils de la France."

"Damn," I said as the video ended with Batroc and the child walking away. "I'm glad I never tangled with that guy..." My gloves beeped, signaling the end of their powering-on process and bringing me back to reality. "I need something from you though, Bobby."

"Sure!" Fingers danced over the keys as he opened up a new browser window. "What's up?"

"The Walgreen's Aleksei and I went to earlier isn't an option anymore. Find me the next closest one," I asked him. "And make sure it has an on-site pharmacy."

"Oh, no problem." A few moments later, a map of Lower Manhattan appeared on the screen, several pink balloons pointing to various locations spread across the region. "Alright, this is the one you hit up earlier...and this one doesn't have a pharmacy...so that would make it this one. Broad Street," he said as he tapped the screen. "That's over in the Financial District."

"I know that one...yeah," I said. It was a smaller Walgreen's on the first floor of one of those hedge fund firms. I had passed by it a bunch of times, and I clearly remembered the red neon Rx sign in the windows. Hey, those hedge fund managers didn't have time to waste getting their ulcer medication refilled. "Ok, Bobby, if anything happens while I'm gone, wake Fred and Aleksei up. But I should be back in an hour, 90 minutes tops."

"Wait, what?" He spun in his chair as I started to walk away. "You're not taking Aleksei with you?"

"He needs some sleep. Trust me, when the big guy crashes out like he did, it's his body's way of telling him to slow down. Besides, it'll be quicker with just me. This is a stealth run, minimum exposure, no heavy lifting required." I pulled my mask over my head as I passed through the living room, past the snoozing Boomerang. Behind me, Rhino snorted, shifting slightly as the futon creaked under his weight. If he knew I was going out without him, he'd kill me. Not literally, but I knew, for a few seconds, his anger would probably make me fear for my life. But the big guy needed his rest. And I was still pretty good to go. The events of earlier in the evening had scared me right. No joking around, no getting cocky, and always, always, always checking my six. I knew where the drug store was, I knew how to get there from here, and I had a Hummer to handle the trip this time instead of having to walk. Get in, grab the insulin, get out, and I could be back home before Aleksei (or Fred) woke up.

Simple.

X

"Come to daddy," I said as I carefully removed the bottles of insulin from the refrigerator. The illumination from inside the fridge was much brighter then the dim emergency lighting coming from the ceiling, but the walls of the pharmacy hid most of it. In all, I now had eight containers of insulin, tucked safely into the reinforced pouches of my suit, which would hopefully be more than enough to last Anne for however long we stayed in the warehouse.

The gloom settled back in as I closed the door to the fridge. Carefully, I stepped over the body of the dead pharmacist, blood pooling from his noise and ears from my blast, and exited back into the drug store proper. Weaving my way past two fallen zombies, I made it out of the Walgreen's without any problems whatsoever. The Hummer waited for me just outside the automatic door, engine and headlights off. All in all, it had taken twenty minutes. Five minutes to take care of the three zombies inside the store, and before that, fifteen minutes were spent getting here, driving through Lower Manhattan down streets lined with charred piles of bodies and spent brass shell casings. The sweep, clear, and "rescue" by the armed forces had apparently started at the Battery and was moving north up Manhattan. I hadn't seen any soldiers, but plenty of dead bodies.

Outside the Hummer, I took a second to look up at the tall buildings surrounding me. There was evidence of the military operating here and disposing of any bodies they had deactivated by head trauma. I had to wonder, just how thorough their operations through these buildings had been. Were they focusing solely on residential properties, and only taking care of "street level" ghoul in a commercial area like the Financial District? Or did they have to go through every building, comb each single office, and climb every single floor, per Osborn's Order? Christ, I hope not, just for the sake of the soldier. Just walking into a Walgreen's was bad enough. Having to clear out a place like the Stock Exchange would probably make me freaking' desert.

The Financial District. I had been down here enough times in my career. Sometimes, I'd just pass through on my way somewhere else. Or I'd be meeting a client, or cracking a safe in some office, after everyone else had gone home. Or...one time, Spider-Man and I had been throwing down in the pit of the Stock Exchange. I can't remember what we were fighting over, but for a couple of minutes, I had the upper hand. There I was, in the last bastion of pure capitalism left on the planet, and every other stockbroker has gotten the hell out of Dodge. Save for one. This young turk, he's just holding a phone in one hand, and staring at me. I pointed one hand at him...and I remember putting on my toughest tough guy voice I could dredge up. "Hey, you...the Shocker wants to be a millionaire! Make it happen!"

Guy makes a few phone calls, cuts a few deals, and, with Spider-Man beaten, I walked out of that stock exchange with a couple million bucks, tax-free, deposited in a Cayman bank account.

True story. It ended up being confiscated by the IRS, but for one brief shining moment, I'd been rich.

Now, though...the windows didn't shine quite so bright in the buildings rising above me. The automated systems that ran the lighting systems in the high-price offices probably hadn't detected anyone moving around for days and were running in low-power mode (which, in a way, answered my question about soldiers going floor-by-floor). At this time of the night...well, it wasn't night anymore. It was O-Dark-Early, and the guys who played the European markets would just be arriving to work. Newspaper trucks would be dropping off the day's reading. The coffee kiosks tucked into the corners of the lobbies would already have customers. Even at this time of the morning, the heart of the American economy would be beating, pumping all that cash and trade out across the country and the rest of the world.

I'd lived in New York all my life. Most of it was spent across the river in Queens, and my adult life had seen me in a string of low-rent apartments and run-down warehouses. But at any time, you could look up, and see the Twin Towers rising to the sky, or the top of the Empire State Building up in Midtown. On the river, boats and barges pulling in to Brooklyn for off-loading. And just the...the feel of the city, its pulse, a New York minute the very thing most of America would have loved to experience, just once.

Now, the heart of the US economy, shut down, empty of life.

I think it was right there that I knew, somewhere inside my brain, that things would never, ever, be the same.

Ok, moment of moroseness over. Sitting here wistfully bemoaning the fall of New York City wasn't going to help Anne's diabetes. I took one last look at the Stock Exchange further up the block...

The shadow fell across me again. My eyes snapped towards the sky, and this time, I managed to catch a glimpse of it in flight. A man-shaped blur passed overhead, wings outstretched like an angel, high enough that its features were shrouded in darkness. My whole body turned in place as I watched it pass over me, gliding down the block. It wings flapped once, smoothly propelling the shape through the air, before it hung a right and disappeared from my view around the corner of a high-rise.

Now, this is the part in horror movies where the dumb main character follows the obviously out-of-place shadow, or investigates the weird noise, or checks out the abandoned house. And every one of us has thrown popcorn at the screen, calling them an idiot for risking their lives and walking right into the killer's trap. With that said, I wouldn't blame anyone reading this for tossing popcorn and shaking their head at my stupidity as I started up the block after the flying shape.

Let me at least try to explain my logic before you turn a six-dollar bag of popcorn into a missile weapon. That shape could have been a lot of things. It could have been some high-tech military drone built to act like a giant bird. It could have been some kind of flying superhero, like Falcon. Hell, it could have been the Avenging Angel of Walgreen's, since I had seen the same form earlier in the evening, crouching on top of the apartment building across the street from the Walgreen's Aleksei and I had...acquired our survival supplies from. It flown over me before taking up its watch post, and I had been distracted before I had gotten a good look at it. This time, I was determined to see what it was. I'm am engineer. I don't like unknown variables, especially when they turn up twice in a matter of hours.

And yeah, I was pursuing on foot. I could have used the Hummer, but in the end, it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

By the time I reached the end of the block, I could make out the same form turning to the left, disappearing again. My footsteps quickened as I ran down the empty street, save for an abandoned taxi parked in the middle of the road. I ignored the smear of red blood on bright yellow paint, the very sight of it now almost blasé to me...yeah, I know some French...and concentrated on the road. No zombies came into sight as I rounded the corner. Aside from an armored car parked outside a nearby bank, the road was clear of traffic or the living dead. Carefully, my eyes scanned the windows and balconies of the buildings around me, a mix of Art Deco architecture and poured concrete slab. Glass lobbies and golden statues lined the street, but my focus was on the ledges, the places to perch. My gloves were by my sides, my body language loose. I wasn't looking for a fight, I was looking for information. Each step was measured as I did my best to scan every square inch of stone and glass that lined the street. The streetlights shined their dim light as I walked down the road.

There. My hand clicked the vision enhancers in my mask, letting me zoom in. On the fifth floor ledge of the building to my right, the form was perched. It wings were folded around its body, and even with the electronic assistance, its features were lost in the darkness. Only its eyes shined, white pupils stark against its blank face. As I looked at it, it stared back at me, motionless, crouched still, like a predator waiting to pounce.

One thumb clicked against the trigger of my vibro-smasher as the other switched on my mask's infra-red sensors. They weren't much to write home about, and in a side filled with light pollution, I hardly ever used them. Better to have and not need, though, I thought as I switched over. Instantly, the world became a sea of green, the very bottom of my sight a bright white line from a nearby streetlamp. I fix my gaze on the figure...and make out nothing. The form is a pale green blob in my sights, featureless. I can barely determine its outlines.

Only the eyes show up. They dazzle brightly in the night-vision, piercing the green veil as the form keeps its sight on me. I focus on the eyes, the only evidence that the form is possibly alive. Pure white in a sea of green, the light blurs a bit on the edges, weaving back and forth like a heat shimmer. The gaze never wavers, not in the slightest, like spotlights from a prison movie, locked directly on the escapee.

So bright...I lean forward, trying to get a better view. The form finally shifts, the blob turning into an angel as the wings open up, spreading out to full extension. It stands up now, and I can see its arms extend towards me...the white lights of its eyes glint off the tips of metal claws at the end of its fingers. The shining points of lights draw my attention, my arms at my sides, full attention on this wondrous form that's crouching down, ready now to swoop down and engulf me in its wings...

Click.

"Hello," the voice says from beside me as he levels the .44.

The first thing I realize, after hearing the click of a gun's hammer, is that the form is gone.

One moment, it was preparing to fly down and grab me, and the next, it had vanished. I gazed at where the dark angel had been perched, but no evidence of its existence remained.

The guy with the gun, on the other hand, was quite real.

"Well look at this, guys. It's the Shocker," the voice gruffly said. "Thinking you'd rescue some rich fat cats down here on Wall Street?"

"Just stay cool, man." This voice came from behind me, low and quiet. "Shocker, turn off your gloves, and turn around, slowly."

It was just two of them. Ok, I could handle two of them...

"Man, we should just plug this wanna-be goody-two-shoes now." This was a third voice, high-pitched in tone. "Seriously, just waste him and let the zombies take care of the corpse."

"Shut up, Keller," the second voice said harshly.

"The boss ain't gonna like this," Keller replied. "Bad enough Hammerhead wanted a piece of our action, now the Shocker? Screw that, man..."

"How about we just ASK the boss, Keller?" This was the first guy, the one standing beside me. I couldn't make out his features from the corner of my eye, but I recognized the end of the long barrel of the .44 he was pointing at me. "First things first, though. Gloves off, Shocker."

"Alright, man." Three-on-one, against guys armed with guns...if they wanted to play it easy and talk, that was fine by me. Besides, this boss they were talking about, maybe it was the flying form. I put my thumb on the trigger of each vibro-smasher.

Clickclick. Click. Click.

A low hum came from my gauntlets as I completed the sequence, fading into silence after a few seconds while I was turning around to face them, holding my hands out to the sides in a non-combative manner. Three men, each armed with a .44 pistol, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. The ones on the sides were pointing them at me, and the smaller one, on the left, had a grin on his face as he looked me up and down. "So, Shocker. Ain't so tough now. Where's your buddy, the Rhinoceros?"

"His name's Rhino, Keller," the man in the middle said. "Stop trying to be a smart smart-ass, it doesn't work." He was holding a walkie-talkie in his hands, and clicked it to life. "Hey, boss...you won't believe who we came across just standing alone in the middle of the street." He eyed me up and down, as if he couldn't quite believe it either. "The Shocker."

After a few seconds, loud laughter came back from over the device. "You're kidding me! That's perfect, Smith. Bring him on in here. Maybe we can convince him to give us a hand."

"Roger." Smith lowered the walkie-talkie, and motioned with his head towards the other side of the street. "Come on, Shocker. Boss wants to see you."

"Yeah!" Keller stepped forward. "You're gonna love..."

His hand went to grab my arm, probably to pull me along in a display of toughness. The second he gripped my upper arm, though, the contact plates went off. With a loud crack, his hand got blown backwards, snapping his arm. "OW! SON OF A ..." he proclaimed, shaking his hand. The way it's been described to me was like holding an M-80 in your hand and letting it go off, without the bodily dismemberment. I smiled under my mask as Keller cursed loudly, using the opportunity to lift my arm and turn my night vision off.

"I thought you turned that stuff off, Shocker!"

"He shut down his gloves, Keller. If you didn't know by now not to grab the Shocker's suit, then you deserved what you got." Smith motioned again with his head. "Come on, Shocker, of your own free will. My boss is waiting in the bank."

The bank? The two men with the .44's followed behind me as I followed Smith. We passed by the armored car, its back doors wide open. Inside, I could make out, thanks to the backsplash from the streetlamp, several bags of money, laying about on the floor, along with several crates. Past the car, up a set of stone steps, the entrance to the Federal American Bank stretched above me, stone columns holding up the roof. A New York institution since the 1800's, it wasn't officially part of the Federal Reserve complex, but the government, as well as several companies, kept assets with the bank. Smith pointed to the front doors, which sat off their hinges, hanging crookedly in the frame. "Head on in, Shocker. Hang a right. Just don't try anything stupid."

Now, if I wanted to, I could have taken these three guys out without breaking a sweat. The guns made it a bit iffy, but three good blasts would have taken care of everything. I took my time heading into the bank, walking slowly, taking stock of my surroundings. Just inside the door, two goons, each armed with a submachine gun, nodded at me, and Smith, Keller, and the unnamed gunman. The foyer of the bank was dark, nearly pitch black, long shadows from the desks and teller stations reaching across the marble floor. Aside from the dim light coming in through the tall windows, the only source of illumination was coming from behind the long line of teller stations. Bright, flickering white light came in spurts, crackling and hissing with each burst. Any engineer worth his salt knew the noise...as did any safecracker.

Someone was using an acetylene torch.

Smith pointed back that way. I wove past the empty oak desks and through the swinging door leading towards the rear. I saw that the teller's stations had all been ransacked, drawers cracked open, coins and dollars bills covering the ground. I knew where we were going, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

"Using the end of the world to rob a bank, huh?" I said this to Smith, who was slightly behind me. "I admire the sense of timing, one bank robber to another."

"Wasn't my idea, but when the big man says go, I go. This time tomorrow, my ass is gonna be in a penthouse high above the streets."

"Color me jealous," I deadpanned.

We rounded the corner. A generator provided power to portable floodlights, illuminating the entire area. At the back of a long hallway, a thick metal door was set into the wall. I knew the make and model almost immediately; a Stark Enterprises X-09 high security vault. Quad-bolted, cobalt steel cores, layered steel plates, and enough wiring and false leads to drive nearly any safecracker mad. For me, it was about a two, maybe three hour job. A man knelt at one edge of the vault, light sparking from in front of him. He moved his arms up and down, moving the rubber hose that ran to a large blue tank set far back from the door. But it was the other man, arms crossed, staring at him, that got my attention. I knew the yellow-and-green outfit anywhere. Hell, I should. More often than not, the media got us confused anyway.

"Yo, boss," Smith said. "Just like you asked, here's the Shocker."

He turned, and from underneath the five-pointed yellow mask, bright white teeth smirked at me. "Well, well, well," a gruff voice remarked. "Just the man we could use for a job like this. Evening, Herman."

I gritted my teeth under my mask as I responded. "Hey, Electro."