If you're expecting me to take a time out here to explain who this guy was, this is all you need to know.
That's the Punisher.
He kills bad guys.
And he's going to kill me.
The shot from the assault rifle flew through the air, a 5.56 NATO round fired from an M4 carbine. From the way Electro's chest had exploded, the Punisher was using anti-personnel rounds, probably high explosive. Or maybe Electro's head packed enough electricity without being powered up that, given an outlet like a bullet hole, the shock of escaping power caused an explosion.
No time for discussion, Dr. Jones. Even as the red laser steadied on my head, I was diving to the side. An arrow of agony raced up my shoulder as I landed behind a wooden check stand. I heard the bullet strike the floor and ricochet towards the back wall, the chip in the floor was at the precise spot where, along the angle it was fired from, it would have passed through my brain and turned into watermelon. I could make out Keller's high pitched screaming and the rattling of the chair he was tied to as he struggled to get free.
Crap, crap, crap, crap! Not the Punisher...
Ok, Herman, focus, you can...
The panel next to my head splintered as the three-round burst passed through. I flinched to the side, away from the small explosion...where my shoulder had been, a second three-round burst disintegrated the wood, millimeters from tearing a hole in my armor.
"Oh, Christ, Christ, Mother Mary, someone get me the hell out of..." Keller's cries for mercy were cut off with a burst of gunfire, which was my exact cue to put my grand plan into action. Pushing to my feet, I sprinted as fast as I could for the wide open front door, forcing myself to run through my limp. As soon as I came into view of the window, a trail of bullets followed every step I took, small explosions and puffs of dust and stone chips in my wake. I didn't weave, I didn't juke, I didn't try to get fancy. I ran flat out towards for the street, hoping the same luck that kept the insulin safe in my pocket would keep me safe from the Punisher's bullets. My pumping arms had daggers being shoved into the sockets, and my legs protested, but the pants-crapping fear I was feeling was motivation enough for me to dive out the opening as gunshots riddled the frame, shattering the thick safety glass of the propped open door. I landed on the second step from the top, and proceeded to roll down the stairs. Each small landing was a stopover in physical agony as I hit every freaking' bruise I had on the way down. I managed to get to my feet about halfway down, rolling upright, and without breaking my motion, ran down the rest. I grabbed the stone pillar at the bottom and hung a hard left, still moving as fast as I could force my body as I sprinted down the street, hugging the buildings, towards where my Hummer was parked.
Holy crap. That was the Punisher. He just blew Electro away. And he tried to do the same to me.
When kids want to scare each other, they tell ghost stories. When criminals want to scare each other, they tell Punisher stories. There may not be very few hard and fast commandments in the criminal world, but there's definitely one rule to live by. "Thou Shalt Not Cross Paths With The Punisher, For He Shall Strike You Down No Matter Where Thou Chooseth To Hide." Right now, my only goal was to get the hell off my feet, behind the wheel of the Hummer, and high tail it back to TriBeCa. I'd take having to explain myself to an angry Rhino then the Punisher sniping at me any day of the week.
The sun was over the horizon now. The first real rays of light laid long shadows across the empty avenue as I ran, keeping close to the empty skyscrapers. My ears strained to her any sort of sound; a racing engine, a burst of gunfire, a loud explosion. How long would it take the Punisher to unsnap that harness and come after me? Hell, would he come...of course he'd come after me, what kind of stupid question was that, Herman? Move, move, move, if he's coming after you right now, the best bet is driving away before he can catch up.
I imagined him stepping out of the alley I was passing, carbine aimed at my chest. Sitting on a ledge above me, taking careful aim with a rifle. Maybe even just around the corner up ahead, foot just above the accelerator of his van, waiting for me to pop into view so he could run me over. Nightmare scenarios played in my head as I reached the block with the Walgreen's, each one involving me dying in a much more gruesome and horrifying manner. I was up to liquid nitrogen and a wrench by the time I saw the black Hummer, parked exactly where I had left it. For a second, relief flooded my senses. "Damn it, Herman, you ain't home yet," I told myself as I ran across the street...
So yeah, the fantasies about the horrible ways the Punisher could off me? In retrospect, they paled in comparison to the fact that, just by sticking my ass outside my warehouse, I was risking being eaten alive by the living dead. Even though I hadn't seen a zombie in a few hours, and my last encounter was with Electro and now the Punisher, those things were still out there. I was reminded of this fact as I closed in on the Hummer as I was thirty feet away.
I hadn't heard the moan in hours, so when the low-pitched noise grinded across my ears, all thoughts of the Punisher left my head and the worldwide threat reasserted itself. Immediately, I tensed up, my gloves coming up to the ready, scanning the area in front of me where the moan had originated. The space between me and the large black SUV was clear. Was it coming from behind the SUV? I quickly looked around, but nothing was shambling towards me. Where the hell...
Screw it. Unless the ghoul had somehow unlocked the SUV and climbed inside, I didn't care. Double timing it, my metal boots clicked off the asphalt as I crossed the abandoned street, one gauntlet ready to fire while my other hand fished in my suit's pocket for the SUV's keys. The moan got louder, though, as I approached the vehicle. Now, I could tell the moan was coming from right in front of me, but I still didn't see anyone or anything that wanted to eat me.
Ten feet away, and then I remembered the horror movie cliché I was probably going to walk right into. Coming to a stop, I ignored the dull pain in my thighs and crouched down to peer under the SUV.
Yep, just like I thought. The body was high enough off the ground for this trick. I could make out the outline of a zombie crawling underneath the Hummer, pulling itself towards me. Clever...if the ghoul was doing this on purpose. It was still clever even if he was just following some instinct. Here's a Hummer. It's abandoned...or is it? Something warm blooded could come back, something tasty. It had been waiting for me, probably "planning" to grab my ankle and sink its' teeth into my leg.
"Not this year, pal." I raised my gauntlet, and gave the zombie a level one from a distance of ten feet. My shoulder barked slightly at the recoil, but it wasn't anything too horrid. The form dropped to the asphalt, sprawling out on the ground...
...giving me a clear view of the block of plastique explosive attached to the bottom of the Hummer.
The detonator's light blinked green twice as I watched, before turning a solid red.
"Oh, cr..." I said as the Hummer exploded.
X
Something sharp poked at my chest as the car alarm blared in my head.
I didn't think such a thing was possible, but the clear blue sky above me wouldn't come into focus. I blinked my eyes to try...
Christ. Even closing my eyes hurt as it pulled the skin on my face. Blinking was going to be an exercise in fun.
Ok, let's sit up.
Ooof, that hurt. Whatever's poking in my chest...
My hand grabbed at my torso, and wrapped around something sharp and angular. Whatever it was, it had sliced through my armor, but didn't cut too deep into my skin. The black metal shimmered in my hand as I stared at it, before I tossed it to the side.
Ok, let's try sitting up again.
Chest is fine, but my back isn't participating in the festivities.
One more time, body, come on, work with me here.
I don't know how long it took, but the Hummer's chassis was still burning as I managed to get into a sitting position. Well, at least it wasn't a car alarm, because that would have been ringing the dinner bell as opposed to just grabbing their attention for a second. It was just the blood rushing through my brain that made noise.
The Hummer, needless to say, was ruined. The windows were blown out, and fire raged along the interior, burning the seat cushioning and carpeted floors. I could feel the heat from where I was...twenty? Thirty feet? The blast had blown me across the street a bit, but I wasn't...aside from the cut across my chest...seriously heard. My suit had, once again, saved me from the worst of the blast...and maybe some of the shrapnel.
There went my ride. That car bomb...it had to be set by the Punisher. Maybe it could have been set by the flying figure, but plastique was definitely Frank Castle's style. That's maybe why no shots had been fired at me since running out of the bank. He had been counting on the car bomb to take me out. Right now, I'm willing to bet the Punisher had heard the explosion and was counting me as KIA.
Groaning, I got to my feet. My ride was gone. There weren't any others cars in sight. I had an upper body that felt like Rhino had used it as a punching bag, my legs weren't exactly up for running a marathon, and I had at least 10 city blocks that, while apparently cleared by the Army, still held the threat of zombie attack.
"This day just started," I muttered as I started to walk, "and already it can't get any worse."
One of these times, I swear, I'll learn not to tempt fate.
Before I knew it, I was knocked off my feet again. Instead of being knocked backwards, however, I was instead yanked into the air, feet first. Something had wrapped itself tightly around my ankles, pulling them together and preventing me from moving my legs. The act of being tossed into the air, while not slamming into anything, caused protests of pain to be delivered from my body to my brain by express mail. The blood rushed to my head as I hung upside down, slowly starting to swing from side-to-side. Before I could react, I felt my arms, hanging below my head, being pulled together in the same manner my legs had been. I glanced down...well, up...trying to figure out what had happened to me. But I knew. Damn it, I knew, I had been this same situation countless times before. I groaned to myself as I saw the webbing around my feet, tying me to a streetlamp, leaving me to sway in the wind.
"Oh, come on...you gotta be kidding me."
"No joke here, Shocker...just, as usual, your poor choice of name."
He crouched on a nearby parking meter, just out of reach, the wide white eye-slots of his mask staring at me. "You turn that Hummer into a Pinto?"
"Screw you, Spider-Man," I spat.
X
"How wude," the wall-crawler responded. "What's the problem, Herman? We're just two guys hanging out."
God. The last thing I needed right now was the poor quips and wise-ass remarks of freaking' Spider-Man. Getting shot was almost a preferable option. "Shouldn't you be out there getting a zombie kitten out of a tree," I shot back.
"Oh, come on, Herman, that's the best you can do? Zombie kittens? That's the dumbest thing I've heard since watching Norman Osborn speak on television?"
"Well, considering I almost blew up from a car bomb and just spent the last hour going around the horn a few times with Electro, I'll take your advice and leave the stupid witticisms to you, Spidey."
He cocked his head to the side. "Electro? Where?"
I answered honestly. "Dead. The Punisher shot him after we finished fighting, down at the Federal American Bank a few blocks over."
"The Punisher? What the..."
Christ. The blood was rushing to my head, I was sore and tired, and there weren't any blondes masseuses in sight to rub away the worst of the pain. Somehow, I found my tough guy voice through the weariness. "Spider-Man, I ain't in the damn mood for Twenty Questions. WHAT do you want?"
He thankfully responded in kind with an honest tone. "I just wanted to ask you a question or two, Herman. But now it's up to four or five."
Damn it. This was JUST what I needed right now.
"I don't have a choice, huh, Spider-Man?"
He shook his head. "Not really. You'll have to cancel any and all pressing engagements."
"Fine," I admitted. "We can talk, on one condition. It's you and I on solid ground, and not with me dangling above the street like a piñata. Something happens to you, and I end up dinner for a bunch of zombies because you trussed me up like a turkey. Find us someplace safe, and I'll talk to you."
"Alright, Shocker. No funny business, though." He leapt from the parking meter before pulling me down from the streetlamp. With practiced ease, Spider-Man tossed me over his shoulder, holding me tightly with one hand, as his other hand shot a line of webbing towards a nearby building. One good tug, and then the two of us were airborne...
Look, I've flown through the air before, but never quite like this, webbed up and helpless, at the mercy of my greatest opponent. If he wanted to drop me right now, I'd splatter on the streets like a turkey thrown from a helicopter. The experience was...if it had been a carnival ride out at Coney Island, it would have been fun. As of right now...the rumors that I screamed somewhat at swinging through the air might not be exaggerated, let's just leave it at that.
The street pulled away, the burning Hummer still blazing, as Spider-Man took the two of us to a nearby skyscraper. In one fluid motion, we landed on a small patio on what was probably the tenth floor of the building. It sat on the corner, bordered by small shrubberies on two sides and on the other two sides by the glass walls of the building. Two small trashcans, filled with sand, sat on either side of the door leading into the building, the surface of the sand littered with cigarette butts.
"This'll do," I told Spider-Man.
"Yeah, it ain't the Plaza, though." He easily tore the webbing from my wrists and ankles, freeing me.
"Why did you web me up," I asked him. "You could have just asked me if we could talk," I said, rubbing my wrists.
"Because, Herman, you would have probably blasted me the moment you saw me." I had to nod in agreement at that statement. "Pull up a pew, Herman. We got some things to discuss."
"Check the door," I told him. "Just in case." As Spider-Man crossed the patio to pull on the double-doors leading to the smoking area, my grateful body sank to the floor. Using the shrubbery box to hold myself up, I extended both legs, flexing the toes to get circulation going. The phrase "ridden hard and put away wet" came to mind, without all the innuendo that usually went along with it.
"Doors are locked," Spider-Man said. He walked over to where I sat, and crouched down in his signature style, on the tips of his feet, hands resting in the center. "We should be able to talk for a while."
"Good." I grabbed my mask by the latex band, and pulled it up over my head. The unfiltered air felt wonderful in my lungs as I breathed deep through my mouth. My head felt back against the planter. "Wallcrawler, you have no idea the night I just had..."
"Looking at your face, Herman, I can believe it. You look like you told Titania she had thunder thighs and she did something about it," he responded. Was that concern? It definitely wasn't sarcasm...
"How bad," I asked him.
"Two black eyes, a cut on your forehead, and blood all over the left side of your face. Damn, Shocker...Electro did all that to you?" The sun was coming over the streets now, and I got a good look at Spider-Man's outfit. It was torn in several places, scraps of fabric hanging from his arm and mask. Dark stains covered the front. No bite marks, but plenty of battle damage. Whatever he had been up to, he may have been in the thick of it just like I had been.
"Dillon was trying to kill me, Spider-Man. His boss told him to off me."
"Really," he said, and there was the skepticism. "In the bank? Let me guess, you two guys quibbled over the cut of the robbery and it turned violent?"
I shook my head, ignoring the spur in my neck. "Ain't like that, webhead. I wasn't in on any job. His boss told Electro over the phone to kill me, and he did his damndest to try. I'm still trying to figure out how the hell I pulled it off."
"Uh huh. And who's this boss figure? You get a name?"
"I wish. Electro wouldn't tell me..."
Spider-Man was quiet for a few blessed seconds. "And just how did you end up at the bank then, Herman? Did Electro's goons find you and force you to join him at gunpoint?"
"Actually," I chuckled, "that's exactly how it went down."
"Damn it, He..."
"No, Spider-Man," I interrupted, spitting my words out at him. "How about this? Unless you're in a hurry, let me tell you what happened so you stop interrupting me. You're the one who wanted to talk...you got the time?"
With a weary sigh, Spider-Man nodded. "Ok, Herman. Spin your tale."
I started with Anne back at the warehouse. And I filled in the blanks; the Hummer stolen from Tombstone, the insulin, the flying form, Electro, and finally, the Punisher. Hearing the words come from my mouth, I realized, even in a world filled with flying gods and the walking dead, just how strange and over-the-top everything was coming across.
"...and then, after the Hummer blew up," I concluded, "you webbed me and pulled me up here. And now, we're all caught up."
"Huh. That's one hell of a story, Herman. And, strangely, I believe every single word of it." Spider-Man rubbed the side of his face, and I thought I heard him yawn softly. "So the Punisher did it, just killed Electro in cold blood. Maybe Castle's decided it's open season on baddies."
"Well that's a damn nice thought," I groused.
"This boss," Spider-Man said, shifting topics, "the guy Electro said he was working for. Do you have any idea who it could be? Any clues, anything you might have heard?"
I shrugged my shoulders carefully. "Damned if I know, webhead. I have no clue. He might have been lying...but if it wasn't Tombstone, and it wasn't Kingpin... thought it might be the Hood, but it ain't his style to off potential employees without resorting to bribery first," I explained. "The Hood would have at least offered me a job before trying to get me killed. But I still think it's tied to that thing I saw flying around earlier, the thing that led me to the bank. Have you seen anything like that around the city the past few nights?"
"I've seen some strange stuff, Herman, but nothing like that," Spider-Man answered. "I've been up and down the island, and aside from the corpses walking around like they own the place...nothing."
"It doesn't seem that bad," I replied. One hand motioned to the empty streets beyond the railings. "I only saw one or two zombies down this way. The first night was worse, they seemed to be coming out of the damn walls."
"Down here...yeah, the Army's been through here. Up near the Park though..." He was quiet for a second, crouched in place. "More civilians, more residents, and more zombies. I spent most of the past few days up there helping move people into the park, and most of that time is spent fighting off the creepy crawlies."
"Don't tell me you're enforcing Osborn's Order for everyone to leave their homes..."
He raised a hand. "Hey, I ain't taking orders from Norman Osborn. I'm taking them from Iron Man, and he says to do what Osborn's suggesting. That's what we get for letting the government take the Avengers over." His shoulders slumped, and for a second, this little twerp who repeatedly whipped my ass looked so small. "It's a mess, Herman. No bull. Every time a zombie gets dropped, two more show up, and add to that all the superheroes who think dropping a zombie is murder..."
"I thought the same thing, Spider-Man," I found myself saying. "Rhino asked me that very question. As far as I'm concerned though, zombies are biological robots, no personality, all motor."
"Yeah...that ain't a bad way to put it, Shocker. I just saw them as corpses that need to be put back the ground..."
After a few seconds of awkward silence, I spoke up. "So, what's the deal, Spider-Man? You said we needed to talk...don't tell me you searched all over Manhattan looking for me. I'll file a stalking complaint."
"Herman, could you please leave the jokes to me? You don't have enough practice to pull them off," he quipped...
Oh, God, I was smirking. Smirking was halfway to a smile. I just smirked at one of Spider-Man's quips. Damn it.
"No, I wanted to talk to you, but I was down here looking for someone else." He motioned towards the north, indicating the island. "Carnage is apparently on the loose. Someone heard a rumor that he was seen down near the Battery, but when I checked it out, all I found was bupkis. I was swinging north when I heard the explosion and saw you hobbling away."
"Carnage? I thought the Sentry killed him when Electro broke everyone out of the Raft a few months ago?"
Spider-Man chuckled darkly. "It's a symbiote. You don't kill them, Herman, you just pray you can lock them up somewhere. There have been reports of him all over the city, and I'm checking them out, just in case."
"Great...the last thing we need is Carnage running around..." I paused in mid-thought, the gears grinding in my head as I shifted from "just great" to "we could be screwed." "Spider-Man...what if Carnage gets bitten? You'd have an undead symbiote swinging around if the odds were bad..."
"That's exactly why I'm trying to find him, Herman," Spider-Man answered. "So far, we know that only humans are affected by whatever's making the dead get up and walk, but that symbiote's been bounded to humans for so long...well, I'm gonna have nightmares this evening. How about you?"
"If all goes well, I plan to sleep for 48 hours, Spider-Man."
"Lucky bastard. I'd go for sleep right now...I was hoping that flying form you mentioned earlier was Carnage. It doesn't sound like him, though. If it was Carnage, odds are he would have tried to flay your face off instead of swooping around like a flying squirrel."
I closed my eyes and chuckled at a though that came into my head. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and Carnage and the Punisher will run into each other. You'd be able to find them both from the city block they'd level."
"Or the mushroom cloud from the suitcase nuke Castle could use," Spider-Man quipped. "I never met a man like the Punisher who believed that there wasn't any kill like overkill." The wall-crawler stood up now, looking down at me, arms crossed. "So, you actually went out to get insulin for someone you're hiding back at your hideout. It doesn't rank as the weirdest thing going in the world right now, but it's in my personal top ten."
"Like I said, Spider-Man, she's a damn good cook. Look at it like this," I explained, "maybe I wanted a good last meal before I croak. I don't fancy going out with a bunch of beef-flavored Ramen on my tongue. Besides, if I didn't go out, Rhino would have, and I figured one guy could sneak in, sneak out, and be back before anyone really noticed." I thought of the Hummer's burning frame and laughed. "Christ, was I wrong on that one."
"So it's you, Rhino, and the two guys and girl from the 7-11? "
"And Anne. The woman I'm getting the insulin for. Oh," I added, "and her husband Pete. And Boomerang too, Fred's hiding out with us..."
He held up a gloved red-and-blue hand. "Whoa whoa whoa, Herman! How many people did you yank off the streets? "
It hurt even trying to count using all ten fingers. "Me, Aleksei, Fred, Robert, Ashley, Pete, Anne, Ernesto, Mark, and Sally. No offense, but I figured my hideout was a better place to lay low then Central freaking' Park."
Spider-Man...I couldn't actually tell if he was or not, but it sure felt like he was staring right at me. "So it's you three...and seven civilians? What's...you have to have an angle, Herman. You and altruism were never partners."
It was just a little spark of anger, but I held it down. "You know...you're right, I ain't the charitable type, Spider-Man. But I saw Nick Fury take down the Wrecker. I saw those scientists eating human flesh. I heard the screams of the guy in the car when those things jumped all over him. And it all happened just a few blocks from where Fred, Aleksei, and I were watching it all on my widescreen, eating steaks and knocking back a few cold ones. Four blocks, webhead. My angle was a mix of shame and...those three, they needed help. If it wasn't for me and Aleksei, they'd be dead, not dead-dead, but the special brand of dead that's walking around right now. So yeah...altruism." I laughed, wincing, as I pointed at my face. "This is what being nice got me, an ass-kicking by Electro, shot at by the Punisher, being threatened by Hawkeye, and a run-in with Wolverine." That last one was probably the scariest out of all of them.
"Altruism," Spider-Man spoke again. "I believe you, Shocker, but I don't believe you. You always tried to make these plans and grand schemes to break into banks and crack safes, plans a seven year old could see through. And now? I'm honestly supposed to believe you're doing these things out of the kindness of your heart just because..."
"I don't care." The spark was being fanned, a pit of glowing embers in my soul. Who the hell was he? Ok, fine, I'm sure Spider-Man was doing his part to save the citizens of New York City. Well and freaking' good for him. I wasn't allowed to do my part? Alright, I could see he had a point, considering I was selling bottled water when the Hulk came to down a few months back. This...this was different. "Spider-Man, if you want to keep on hating me, I don't care, because right now, I still loathe you. You don't want to think I'm capable of actually doing something nice, that's fine with me. Especially since, even if they're going through Iron Man, you're taking orders from Norman Osborn."
"Whoa, that's completely..."
"It's not even CLOSE to being different, Spider-Man. Norman Osborn is a madman, a psychopath, a murderer!" Well, there were the flames of anger now. Too late to stop, however, so I decided I might as well ride the wave. "The man's sanity is kept tethered by a bunch of pills, and he's in charge of everything, and you're listening to him. I'm a thug who has delusions of adequacy, but even though I've never killed anyone in my life, Osborn's word is better than mine. Whatever, Spider-Man. If you heroes decide, when push comes to shove, the measure of a man's trustworthiness is based on how many bodies he's put in the ground before he becomes a good guy, well, last I saw the Punisher, he was three blocks down and looking to plug me. I'm sure he'll make a wonderful addition to the Avengers."
"So far off the mark, Herman, I might as well call you Big Wheel." Spider-Man's body was tense, one fist clenched. "I hate taking any type of direction from Osborn. I'd rather bite down on a metal file and have someone yank it right out of my teeth then listen to him. But he's been right so far, and he's the guy who stepped up and took charge when the rest of the government fell apart and got eaten. You don't think guys like Iron Man and Reed Richards aren't keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do something like open the gates and let the zombies flood Central Park? Give us some credit, Herman, we're not all stupid."
That point, I conceded...and then I took the wide open target Spider-Man had handed me. "So you're giving Osborn a chance then?"
"Herman, I'm not averse to second chan...ces..."
Pause.
"Ah, hell."
The smile on my face, seeing Spider-Man flounder for a moment, almost made the ass-kickings I had taken over the past few days well worth it. "Guess that doesn't apply to me though, huh?"
He shook his head. "I'm blaming it on exhaustion, Herman."
I took the one little victory. "If this was any other night, we'd be having this conversation while trying to beat the stuffing out of one another. Right now, though...the rules got rewritten, Spider-Man. The way I see it, this is humanity fighting for survival. Those guys out there, those zombies, you can't make them give up, you can't make them put down their guns, and you can't just beat the crap out of them until you can't fight anymore." My mouth felt dry, and I licked my split lower lip, ignoring the minor jolt of discomfort. "It ain't capes vs. cowls anymore. We're getting down to the line, man. Three nights ago, Wolverine, Rhino, and I would have fought, even though he would have wiped the street with both of us. Now...this is bigger than any petty arguments you and I have, Spider-Man. If I saw you being attacked...I'd help you. I'd like to think I would, at any rate."
"So what you're saying, Herman, is we need to put aside our differences and work together to beat back the undead?"
"Close enough, yeah."
"Kind of like how I'm swallowing my hate of Norman Osborn and giving him a chance?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried to respond again. Nothing.
"Ah, hell."
"Welcome to my world," Spider-Man replied...without sarcasm. He looked to the east, down the avenue. The sun was up now, just clearing the horizon, beginning to glint off of the windows along the street...and a zombie stood behind the double doors, staring at the two of us. The three-piece stockbroker's suit was torn all along its front, and red gore stained the area around its mouth. It didn't bang the glass, but just swayed slightly at the sight of the two costumed morsel. "Well, think that's my cue, Herman, before the dinner bell rings. I gotta get going, at least check in with SHIELD and let them know what's happening."
"I ain't gonna hold you up," I groaned as I tried to stand up...and failed. "Ahhh," I said, as I sank back to the patio. My legs had fallen asleep during our conversation. I began to massage the blood back into them, getting the circulation going. "I'll tell you this, Spider-Man. I'm going back in my hole and I don't plan on sticking my head back out unless it's absolutely necessary. I have enough responsibility on my plate right now, I can't handle anymore...especially if the Punisher's out there."
Spider-Man nodded. "Herman, I won't blame you. I don't know what's harder, keeping an eye on seven civilians, or keeping an eye on Rhino and Boomerang."
Another laugh. Damn it. "I keep Aleksei fed, and I keep Boomerang drunk. Everything else falls into place."
Spider-Man chuckled under his mask...and then, he extended me his hand. I stared at it for a second, processing this brand spanking new gesture, before sticking out my gauntlet. He winced slightly as we clasped hands, probably expecting my suit's contact panels to go off, as he easily helped me to my feet. My lower body felt much better as blood began to pump through my legs again. I nodded my thanks before pulling my mask back over my head, tucking it back into the latex loop on my neck. My suit didn't recharge like my gloves did, and I'd have to break out the backup when I got back to the warehouse...after a shower. A long, hot, scalding shower. And lots and lots of Vicodin.
The wall-crawler studied me for a second. "Where you heading, Shocker? You aren't in any condition to go anywhere. You...I can't believe I'm about to offer this...you want a lift?"
"A lift? The whole swinging through the air thing?" I turned to look over my shoulder towards the East River. The shape I was in, I probably couldn't manage a city block, let alone the six or seven I was from home. And that was before considering the walking dead. A ride through the air would probably get me back in...20 minutes? Without running into any zombies?
"You better not drop me," I warned him. Swallowing my pride, I stepped forward. "You know if someone sees me with you, Spider-Man, it's gonna shoot my street cred in the foot," I said as he let me put my arms around his waist.
"What street cred? Squeeze tight, Herman." As I clutched at his chest, the hero webbed my hands together, bonding me to his costume. "And you're worried? If Wonder Man sees me, he's gonna never let me live this down..."
X
"Hey," Spider-Man said, walking towards the warehouse's edge, "wasn't this the Tinkerer's old hideout?"
"Yeah," I responded, "but you can't beat the location. Just don't tell anyone, alright?"
"Actually, Herman...I know a guy who's been looking for you, an old friend of ours. I'm gonna send him down this way when he gets a chance, alright?"
"Webhead..."
"Trust me." The hero turned away, crouching slightly. "You'll want to talk to this guy. Take care, Shocker." And as I watched, he sprung into the air, easily making the roof of the cannery across the way.
"That's what Electro told me about his boss," I yelled, trying to get in the final word as he sprung to the next rooftop. He heard me. I knew he heard me.
7:30 am, and it promised to be a warm autumn day. The streets, normally filled with rush hour traffic, were instead occupied by a military caravan and a few stray ghouls. Maybe Osborn's plan had worked, because ever since we had rescued Mark and Sally from their apartment and hightailed it back here, I don't remember seeing a large number of undead. Granted, I spent most of the trip over here with my eyes closed, praying that Spider-Man's webbing would hold and not choose this time of all times to fall apart and send me screaming to the street. But Lower Manhattan seemed pretty clear.
Following that line of logic, though, the gunfire and activity up near Central Park meant that the living dead were packed around the green space in the heart of New York City, trying to get inside.
As I stumbled towards the roof access door, I glanced at the city spreading out around my warehouse. The west, across the river, saw Newark's northern suburbs on fire, as smoke and flames rose from all the urban renewal that had been going on since the turn of the century. I couldn't make out I-95 through the morning haze, still thick enough to block my view without commuter traffic distilling the mist back into water and pollution.
I could make out some smoldering fires to the east, near the Brooklyn Bridge, but nothing on the scale of what was happening in Newark. Up north, though, where I could just make out the skyscrapers of Midtown, smoke from diesel generators and gunfire mixed in the air to drift into the sky. Lower Manhattan was a comparative oasis compared to the surrounding areas of the metro region. I made a note to get an update from Bobby...just what was going on everywhere else?
New York City was burning, not as badly as I had thought, but still, it smoldered under the feet of the walking dead. And this was with the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the heavy hitters doing their best to stem the tide. How was the rest of the Initiative holding up? Were they keeping the wolves at bay in Miami, Dallas, Seattle? And beyond that, in London, Moscow, Tokyo...
God, I'm thinking too much. I just want to lie down, take some prescription painkillers, and take a nap. I had been on the go for almost 24 hours, with hardly any rest. Rhino had conked out way before I had, and...
Aleksei. Oh, he was going to kill me, I knew it.
I took off my mask, and opened the door to the warehouse. "I'm back," I called out loudly down the white metal stairs.
"Herman!" That was Fred's voice, mixed in with several steps of footsteps. I closed and locked the warehouse door, and took a step down...
Ow, ow, ow, ow. Stairs were NOT going to be my friend. I turned, and slowly side-stepped my way down to the first landing. "Sorry I took so long. Cross-town traffic was a bitch."
"At least tell me you're in one piece, mate."
"Barely. I had...a run-in with someone." I emerged into the warehouse proper, shuffling my way down the steps one at a top. It would be my luck to trip, fall, and break my neck to end this screwed up evening. At the bottom of the steps, Boomerang, out of costume in a black t-shirt and blue jeans, and Robert were standing, looking up at me with concern. Everyone else was scattered across the warehouse, all of them looking up at me...
...including Aleksei. He was also out of his suit, but still, he cut a granite figure, arms crossed as he stood, like a marble sculpture, at the bottom of the stairs in black shorts and a white muscle t-shirt.
"Run-in? Herman, from the way you're limping, it looks like several someones," Robert said. "And why are you coming in from the roof? Where's the Hummer?"
I waved a hand, gripping the railing with the other. "I'll explain it when I reach the bottom, ok?"
"Mate, you want me to fly up and grab you? You're really limping along like a three-legged dog."
"Nah. It looks worse than it is," I lied. Aleksei's face was etched in stone...angry, bitter, ready-to-punch-my-head off stone, easily noticeable at 100 feet. A small Band-Aid rested on his cheek, covering the cut he had gotten earlier. He never said a word, not once asking about me, as I limped my way down to the bottom of the stairs to the warehouse floor. My legs felt like my upper arms as I finally stepped foot on the stone floor. One hand still held onto the railing as I gingerly reached up and pulled my mask off from over my head. "God, it's good..."
"Oh, sweet Jesus, Herman. Did you run into, the Thing?" Fred and Robert winced as they got a good look at my face. Even Aleksei's face softened a bit as he saw the number that had been done on me. "Who the hell did all this to you?"
"Electro," I replied. "Max tried to kill me..."
"Kill you?" Aleksei almost shoved his way past Fred. His anger was still there, but it had been misdirected, away from me towards the deceased Maxwell Dillon.
"Hold up a second." Robert spoke up, stepping forward to where I was standing. "It sounds like you had a hell of a morning, Herman, but first things first. You got the insulin, right?"
Smiling weakly with triumph, I reached into my suit's pocket, and produced the small bottles. "Here. Hopefully those will be enough to last us for a while. How the hell they survived the beating I took is a damn miracle."
"Aleksei," Robert said, handing the bottles over to my friend, "take these to Anne, and then get some icepacks from the freezer. Herman looks like five miles of bad road, let's get him down and comfortable before we all get distracted." To my surprised, Aleksei nodded. The vials looked so small in his hands as he walked them over to the kitchen, when Anne and Peter were watching the proceedings. I could see them deflate with relief, their tension leaving, as they saw the familiar bottles in their colleague's hands.
"Fred, help me get Herman to bed..."
"No," I said as both of them moved to take me by the shoulders. "The futon. I prefer recovering on the futon, Robert."
"You sure?" I nodded, and the three of us hobbled over to the entertainment area. Ashley whistled from where she was playing with Sally and Mark, and I responded with my best smile. At least I wasn't missing a tooth...
The twin TV's were still playing their signals, I saw as the two guys helped me sit on the soft cushion of the futon. The government signal was showing a two-star Army general, discussing how the military's evacuation procedures into the major cities were coming along. The Versus signal showed a grainy video of a man, holding a two-by-four, bashing in the head of a zombie, as two kids cowered behind him. Bewildered, I asked "they haven't taken Spike TV off the air yet?"
"They've tried," Robert answered. "Apparently, Spike TV keeps finding a new channel each time. Osborn's even talked about it, how the 'pirate TV station is spreading fear and misinformation.' It's also the only channel that's showing someone how to survive without government intervention."
"Damn, mate. Your suit's more messed up then I've ever bloody seen." Boomerang pointed to the pock marks, black bits of Hummer, that were embedded in the quilted fabric, along with the minor tear that revealed several layers of fabric underneath. "Electro did all this? What the hell did you say to piss him off this much?" After removing my gauntlets, I carefully unsnapped the torso piece of my outfit, and pulled it off. Even as I threw the shirt on the ground, Boomerang was giving a low whistle. "Mate...you look like someone left you out on the grill too long."
You could make out the red imprints where Electro had run the current into my chest, outlined by a line of freshly scabbed over skin. Thin lines of crimson ran along my nerves, spreading towards the limbs of my bodies. The only contrast to the red was the dark blue and brown bruises that splotched along my chest.
"Damn," I whispered as I got a look at my chest for the first time. How...all Electro had were a split lip and a bloody nose. How the hell did I take all this? And more importantly, how the hell did I walk away? Seeing the bruises and wounds on my body...the pain finally decided to show up. Oh, it had been there more of the time, hiding in the back, just chilling in the yard, but now that I've finally seen what was inflicted upon me by the events of the evening, my body finally decided that a complete and utter collapse. How many times have you seen a superhero or a villain get the utter crap kicked out of them on TV, but when the time comes to give the morale building interview to the bubble headed bleach blonde reporter, they're standing tall and talking like that don't have a single ounce of discomfort anywhere in their body? Well, I'll tell you the truth. Once you get behind closed doors, and it's just you? That pain reveals itself, because you can let your guard down and not worry about your street cred or pride getting wounded. Well, right now, seeing the damage Electro had done to me...denial wasn't in the cards anymore.
It was a dull pain, without any throbbing or sharpness, but it quickly ran through my entire body, from the bottoms of my feet to the top of my head. My body collapsed back into the futon, muscles going completely slack. Even that slight motion caused me to wince from sinking a few inches into the couch cushions. "Ow."
"You need some painkillers, mate..."
I motioned to my shirt on the ground. "Check my pockets. I got some Vicodin," I groaned.
"Vicodin? Screw that Mickey Mouse stuff, Herman." Boomerang was on his feet, and walking towards where his uniform was laid out on the ground. "Got something a lot better."
"Hope it ain't morphine...then again, I kind of hope it is."
"Here, Herman. Lie down, I'll get your boots off." Kind words from Aleksei, as he handed the icepacks to Robert and knelt down on the floor. "I'll grab you a pillow too when I can."
Slowly, I turned in place. Lying down sounded like a wonderful idea right about now, better then booze or sex. "You don't have to play nursemaid, Aleksei."
He took one of my metal boots, and gently started to unsnap it. "Yeah, I do. I want you at least capable of getting a running start when I whip your ass later, Herman. Going outside alone...you trying to get yourself killed?"
"I didn't want to wake you." I cried out as he pulled the boot off, the blood flow causing my ankle to throb.
"I can sleep anytime," he growled. "Keeping your ass alive is more important than a few z's, and you should know that."
"Ok. Next time I tangle with Electro, I promise, you can be there," I white-lied.
Robert helped to arrange the ice packs on the worst parts of me. The freezing first-aid shocked me at first, but soon gave me literal cold comfort. By the time Rhino had gotten my other boot off, Fred was towering over me. "Here," he said, leaning down. "Take two of these. They'll do you a world of good." Two small red caplets rested in his palm. "It'll help knock out the pain."
I trusted Fred enough to take them without question. He also had a bottle of Deer Park water, which helped wash down the caplets. I lay back on the pillow, slowly trying to shift my shoulders. "Where did you get..."
Like fighting Cloak, the darkness crashed over me without warning. One moment, I was asking Boomerang where he had gotten the meds he had gotten me, the next, my eyes had slammed shut. I could hear myself trying to ask him, but soon, that got cut off too. Within a matter of seconds, my body had shut down, exhaustion catching up with me in an instant.