"Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap" I said, over and over again, as I plunged towards the unforgiving street.
There was no way my suit could absorb the impact. I was looking at several broken ribs at the best case scenario, and death at the worst case. Ok, I could blow a hole in the street, but what was underneath? A sewer? A subway tunnel? A whole bunch of gas pipes? All I'd do was make my fall a little longer and give me a whole lot of debris to slam into...
Wait, there! I saw the flash of red against the curb as I passed the eighth floor of the apartment building, and fired off a blast at the seventh, trying to control my flailing arms and hit a target that, to a body falling at a rate rapidly approaching 9.8 meters per second from seven stories up, wasn't any bigger than an apple. If I missed, I was probably screwed, because even if I lived, I was going to be an easy target, and the guy who was currently trying to kill me would follow up and finish the job without me being able to fight back.
As I hit the fifth floor, I saw the red target explode as the level-two shattered the metal holding it to the concrete. The plume of from the broken fire hydrant shot into the air as I crossed the fourth floor, slamming into my chest as I reached the third floor. The broken water main underneath the hydrant pumped water through the remains of the hydrant, and I managed to catch the middle of it, just off-center. The fountain hit me like a punch to the gut, immediately soaking through to my skin. The force from the water pressure wasn't nearly enough to stop my fall, not even close to it, but it slowed me down enough that, when I slammed into the sidewalk chest first, leading slightly with my left shoulder, nothing seemed to snap in my body.
It still felt like a blow from a jackhammer, though, when I landed. My shoulder screamed out as it took the brunt of the initial impact, followed by the rest of my body collapsing on the now-wet concrete. I could hear myself groan over the rushing water that was cascading back down onto me as I rolled over onto my back to relieve the pressure on my chest. I knew I had to move, soon, before the water soaked into my outfit, and possibly shorting out my contact plates. I wiped the water from my eyepieces, and tried to sit up...
The zombie literally fell on top of me, shoving me back down to the ground as it snapped and tore at my chest. Its' long black hair dripped with pinkish liquid as the water washed the blood from its exposed scalp, a young woman in club wear trying to get my heart. "Get OFF," I growled, lifting my right arm and decking her in the nose. It took another punch to knock her away from me, sending her back to the street and letting me scramble...
...ok, lumber to my feet, since my body was very clearly telling me, "Herman, you just survived an eleven story fall and are dripping wet. You are in no condition to be scrambling anywhere soon." My left shoulder was the most vocal member of that choir, and I gave my body the benefit of the doubt as I grabbed onto a nearby parking meter and pulled myself up. Water fell down the entire length of my outfit even after I stepped out of the hydrant's spray, pinpricks of ice along my arms and chest.
He flew through the waterfall, catching me off guard before I could begin to look for him. Exploding from the spray, an outstretched arm caught me in the waist like a lead pipe. He couldn't have been more than two feet from the ground, but for him, it might as well been a hundred feet. He carried me along, the claws digging into my side as he skimmed the sidewalk between the line of parked cars and apartment buildings with ease. I could see the long, sharp green wing stretching along the underside of his arm and beyond his hand. I was a sideways 'u' on his arm...or probably a reverse 'c'...my feet not even skidding on the ground, he had me flying so fast. I threw an elbow, but didn't come anywhere close to his face. "Damn it, put me the hell down," I yelled as I swung at him again.
"As you wish, Herman!"
Yeah, poor word choice, I know, but at the time, I was being flown through the air by the world's longest shoulder tackle. It SEEMED like a good thing to say at the time, says the guy who only a minute before had tempted Lady Fate. The guy suddenly came to a stop, going from a horizontal flying position to a vertical holding pattern by turning his wings sideways and flapping a few feet into the air. In the process, he released his grip, and I kept flying forward.
Luckily, the sedan I slammed into stopped my momentum.
My back shattered the driver's side window, sending glass all over the front seat, and left a body-sized crumpled dent in the door. At the same time, the very thing I was worried about earlier came to pass. That lovely, familiar sound grated across my ears as the car's anti-theft alarm went off, a mix of beeps, whoops, rising sounds, honks, and horns that guaranteed only the most jaded New Yorker would ignore the noise. Tonight, however, it wasn't an anti-thief device so much as a dinner bell, and any zombie within decaying earshot of the sounds was going to lumber this way in search of a meal.
Granted, at the time, I wasn't consciously thinking about the sound. I was overriding the pain and preparing for what my opponent was going to do next. It was his standard opening gambit – first, drop the victim. If he lives, throw him against something immovable. If he someone survives that, turn him into a human pincushion. As soon as I opened my eyes and leaned forward, groaning under my mask, I saw the sliver streaks flashing through the air from fifteen feet off the ground. I dove to the side as three spikes embedded themselves in the driver's side door, quivering from the impact that had driven them half-way into the steel. Even as I moved, a level two was vibrating through the air at my attacker. He easily flapped his wings and gained altitude, letting my blast past harmlessly under him. It had easily bought me enough time to get to my feet, reposition my bearings, and come to grips with my current situation.
This was dealing with the fact that the Vulture, who couldn't even get out of bed a week ago, was floating in the air above me, cackling with glee at my possible demise.
X
I know exactly what most of you are thinking.
"The Vulture? Really? There's a chance in hell you're going to get your ass handed to you by a guy named THE VULTURE?"
Considering my name is the Shocker, one of my best friends is named the Rhino, and one of the best martial artists in the world is nicknamed "the Leaper," and each and every one of us is fully and utterly capable of kicking YOUR ass, I'd advise you to do the following. Shut up, sit down, and listen close.
Adrian Toomes is an electronics genius. That harness on his back, the whole 'wings and claws' thing? He built it himself, and when he found out his business partner was embezzling from their company, he decided to use that harness to become a professional criminal. The guy's done it all. He terrorized his ex-partner. He's heisted jewelry and payrolls. He's run numbers rackets and gambling organizations. He's taken part in kidnappings. Any crime, any time, that was Toomes' style, whatever made him money and let him terrorize the populace.
You'd think for a guy in his sixties, Toomes would be a pushover. "Oh, gee, he can fly, what else can he do? You'd blow him right out of the sky." Well, for starters, that harness...and let me tell you about this thing. It's like a backpack, but the wings are attached to his arms, so he has to flap his arms like a bird to get anywhere, and he wears it over this ridiculous green pajama suit with a furry white collar. And when a guy who's wearing a brown-and-yellow outfit thinks what you were is stupid, that's saying something. Fashion sense aside though, that harness lets him fly with pinpoint accuracy and precise maneuverability, and all while being deathly quiet, which is what let him sneak up on me a few moments earlier. He doesn't just swoop down and glide back in the air. Vulture dives, cuts your face, and it right behind you doing the same to your back before darting right back up on the air. Oh, and let's keep going about that harness, because it makes him stronger and tougher. He hits like Mike Tyson in his prime, and that's when he's standing still...or flying in place. Add to it those sharp claws and the edges on his wings, and a beating from Toomes ain't pleasant. And he can take a hit like Ali. I've seen Spider-Man deck him clean across the face, and the Vulture just shrugged it off.
The harness is the key...damage it and you're cutting down on his capabilities. Of course, it's like trying to hit the hood ornament of a car that's spinning out of control down a rain-slicked hillside. Drawing a bead on Toomes from range is damn near impossible, and we're talking a direct hit to really break that damn thing. But if I could just get him grounded...
Of course, this is avoiding the big question...how the hell is a guy who had a stroke that paralyzed the left half of his body flying around like a heavily-armed Peter Pan?
About a year ago, Toomes was fighting Spider-Man at some kind of book signing when he suddenly collapsed. And Spider-Man rushes the guy to the hospital...so yeah, good for the wall-crawler. Turns out, Toomes had a massive stroke, and one half of his body wouldn't respond anymore. The last time anyone had heard from it, Toomes had been in an assisted living home, barely able to get around without help from a nurse. And now...
...well, the big question now is...WHY is he up and about, and why is he using that newfound mobility to try and kill me?
"Say your prayers now, Herman! You'll be too busy screaming in a few moments to remember!"
Somehow, I could hear Toomes screeching even about the din of the car alarm going off next to me. A solid level three blast into the car's engine shut the damn thing up, never once taking my eyes off of the Vulture. The alarm's noises faded into distant echoes...
Aw, crap.
...that was soon overtaken by the cries of zombies.
Just like I feared, the alarm was a big neon sign reading "EAT AT HERMAN'S." From where I was standing, I could see the zombies beginning to pour out of the pharmacy I had just escaped from, two or three at a time pushing their way through the front. And all around me, coming out of the narrow alleyways and slowly opening the doors to the brownstones and mid-rise apartment buildings, the living dead were following their instincts. Noise meant humans. Humans meant food. Food meant Herman becoming a snack. Options, options...come on, Herman, think of some options.
The Vulture, though, wasn't gonna give me that kind of time. He lifted a wing, and three more of those sharp blades shot out of his harness, coming directly for me. I lunged to the side...
He was already diving for me. Even as I dodged the spikes, I was pulling backwards as well, attempting to avoid those outstretched claws coming for me. The talons snapped as Toomes closed in, attempting to cut me and drive me into the asphalt. I managed to take a step backwards just as Toomes pulled up, his claws slashing upwards in an attempt to disembowel me. The rush of air against my body paled in comparison to the white hot pain that lanced through my chest as the talons sliced through my costume with ease. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," I screamed as Toomes pulled away swaths of fabric and part of my outer layer of skin. He swooped back up into the air as vertical lines of warm wetness formed on my chest. Grimacing, one hand held over where the Vulture had cut me, I looked up in the air, tracking the villain as he swung around, coming to a stop over the empty city street, finally getting my first good look at the guy.
Toomes' sharp features moved freely, showing no signs of any damage from the stroke he had a few months back. But that wasn't the only change I could see in Adrian Toomes. The old harness, the one I had spent the last few minutes talking about? Well, looks like I was a bit out of date. Instead of the pajama suit, Vulture floated in mid-air clad in a green metal suit. It didn't look like power armor, at least the sort that Mach-IV or Iron Man wears, but just a suit made out of metal. The ends of his hands were covered with silver gauntlets, with talons on the end of each finger and spikes adorning the forearms. Behind him, silver wings beat a steady pace in the air, attached directly to the back of his armor.
"Looks like you got an upgrade," I said as I brought my fists up. I didn't have a chance in hell of hitting him right now, and Vulture easily avoided the two vibrations I sent through the air.
In response, Toomes clicked the end of his talons at me. Yellow fabric and bits of wiring hung from the claws as they snapped together. "Technology marches on, Herman," Toomes cackled in reply. "A new Vulture deserves a new suit!"
"Well, sorry if I ain't happy to see you up and about right now, Toomes."
The moans of the living dead were slowly becoming more prominent. Risking a quick glance around, I checked my surroundings. The sidewalk I was standing on was a mixed-residential area, with mid-rise apartment buildings right next to single family brownstones. Trees ran along the curb, providing leafy shade during the day and pouring pools of darkness at night. Aside from the small mob flowing from the pharmacy, a few of the buildings lining the street were beginning to show signs of unlife. The ghouls had managed to get the doors open, or the doors were already off the hinges or broken. They slowly shuffled out of the lobbies, down the front steps, towards where the Vulture and I were having our little talk. With a long line of cars parked against the curb, I didn't have a lot of room to move. Options, Herman, focus on options. Gotta get him down on the ground, because as long as he's airborne, I didn't have a hope in hell of plugging him. But once he was grounded, I had the advantage and could pummel away to my heart's content. In order to hit him, I first had to hit him.
"So, how the hell are you up and flying around like a pigeon, Toomes? Last I heard, you couldn't even cook dinner by yourself," I taunted, taking a step to the side between two parked cars to get out onto the relatively wider street...
*SCHTUCK*
I quickly recoiled, yanking my foot away from the shaking steel nail that was embedded six inches deep into the asphalt by a car's front bumper. "It's been such lovely weather lately that I decided it would be a good night for the Vulture to take flight. And indeed, I found my prey with relative ease." Oh, damn, he was actually tapping his fingers together, like one of those old Republic serial villains. "You were a fool to stick your head back out from whatever rock you were hiding under, Herman, and I plan on taking full advantage!"
The nearest zombie was about twenty feet away, its features obscured by the darkness the tree it was under provided. Its arm was already reaching for me as I made another attempt to grab some breathing room. "Full advantage, huh? So why the hell are you trying to kill me, anyway?" I took a few quick steps towards the same space I had gone for earlier as I spoke. "Let me guess, some super secret shadowy supervisor sent you to silence me?"
"Exactly. I've just been waiting for you to get away from that big gray dolt...and after you killed Electro, I decided killing you was personal as well as professional!"
That caused me to pause in mid-step...just long enough for a spike to slam into the ground just where my foot would have been an instant earlier. Damn it, when did Toomes get so fast? But more to the point, the Vulture was working for the guy who tried to get Electro to whack me?"
"Wait, wh..."
The forearm closed around my neck. I felt the cold body press against my back, buffeted slightly from the contact plates firing, and something press down firmly on my shoulder. On instinct, I jammed an elbow backward, feeling the sharp bone connect with flesh. The limb wrapped with my throat loosened its grip, enough for me to slide my hand between the forearm and my skin and shake my assailant off. I spun around, thumb on the trigger of my gauntlet. A level one vibrated through the skull of the zombie who had grabbed me...and I had to quickly fire off a second level one at another ghoul who was lunging towards me. And behind them were a lot more. The mob that I had lured into the pharmacy had finally escaped from my trap, spilling out the front door and onto the side street. How the hell had they gotten so...the trees. They helped play a trick of what meager light there was around me, screwing with my depth perception. Objects in the Shocker's front view were a lot freaking' closer than they appeared. When I finally noticed just how close the horde was to me, they must have noticed my noticing, because their moans got a hell of a lot louder once their prey realized just how screwed he was going to be.
I had taken a step backwards, half-turned to sprint up the sidewalk and at least make it to the end of the block, when sharp talons pressed against my back. "Don't be shy, Herman," the Vulture's voice hissed in my ear. I heard his wings flap, and then the points of pain on my back flared up as, with an assist from his harness, the Vulture shoved me forward, propelling me into the ongoing horde of living dead. "Go say 'hello!'"
I felt hands grabbing at me as I flew past the initial line of corpses. The bastards didn't even give me a chance to crash land before going for the kill. Smacking into the sidewalk chest first, the air left my body, leaving me gasping for breath. I rolled over as best I could, trying to relieve the pressure on my chest in order to grab a good solid breath of fresh air...
The zombie leaned over me, dark gore dripping from its open mouth. Its hands wrapped around my neck, locking behind me as the ghoul tried to lift me to its lowering mouth. "Get off me," I croaked as I lifted my arm and fired a level-one at point blank range. The thing's head snapped backwards and it fell away from me...
...my arm became the center of a tug-of-war. Two separate things had a hold of my forearm, and pulled at potential morsel, snarling in rage at their opponent. "Let go, damn it..."
...even as I pulled my arm free, I was kicking at another ghoul who was attempting to make a snack out of my toes...
The groans grew louder, drowning out my protests. Any direction my eyes darted, there's a hand, pulled into a claw, grabbing, yanking. Fingers brushed against my quilted suit, being flung away by the contact plates just under the outer layers. Every time a hand shot away, another one was right there to take its place. I couldn't even see the night sky above the moaning horde. Red teeth, missing skin, exposed muscle, that's what my eyes beheld. Each hand grabbing at me pushed my mind away from that of a rational human being to something more primal, something more desperate...something more freaking' scared. I did my best to kick and punch, swinging every limb I had, pulling away from one ghoul even as I lashed out at another. During those few precious moments when the fear clouding my mind thinned, I fired a random vibro-blast, the equivalent of "spraying and praying." Level one or two, I wasn't paying attention. This close in, I was hitting them in the legs and chest, not even shoving them backwards due to the sheer weight of numbers keeping the crowd hemmed in around me.
I did catch one, somehow, in the head. It fell to its knees, I caught from the corner of my eye, and sprawled across my chest as it died again. For a few moments, the zombies around me didn't even notice he wasn't one of them anymore, and kept pawing and swiping at me over his body. Eventually, a large ghoul, in the blood remains of a butcher's smock, hissed and used both hands to roll him off of me, exposing my chest where Vulture had cut me earlier. Large, puffy fingers dove right for where the fabric was torn, exposing my skin to the air. With a strangled cry of triumph, the butcher's nails clawed into my body, bypassing my defenses and going right for the warm flesh. I shouted out, pain ripping through my entire body, as I felt him try to pull back a strip of my flesh...
A snapshot in my mind. An image of my chest being yanked open, ribs snapping, my fabric being torn along with muscle and sinew, as hands plunge into my chest cavity. Nails tear at my lungs and intestines, teeth sinking into my liver...
"GET OFF!" I'd like to say I yelled this in a bold, daring manner. Instead, my voice cracked like a teenager going through puberty as I crossed my wrists over my chest. The crowd took advantage and closed in, reaching for me as I jammed my thumbs down on the trigger of both vibro-smashers. My eyes were squeezed shut underneath my mask, fighting the urge to just fire as hands pressed into my suit, pushing past the firing contact plates to pull at the quilted fabric of my suit.
One...two...three...four.
My eyes opened as the level four blasts shot off in different directions, full spread. At such close range, I could see the vibrations distorting the air, waves of energy smashing into the crowd bending over me. The ones trying to tear into me, they flew backwards as my attack slammed their bodies, an overpressure wave flinging them away. Torsos slammed into heads, legs kicking jaws, as I kept my thumbs down. Instead of two blasts, a steady concerto of vibrating air beat from my gauntlets, thumping into the horde. The first line of ghouls...they were stopped by the second line, blocked from being shoved backwards. I was still surrounded, sheer mass keeping me penned in place. I never let up as I climbed to my feet as best I could, rolling on my knees as I moved my gauntlets around me, firing off level-three blasts in every direction. Every time I dropped a ghoul, another one took its place. A section of the undead wall would get blasted backwards while another surged forward. Yeah, I was fighting a losing game...but I bought enough time to get to my feet. And not an instant later, I spun and faced the street. Both triggers thumbed a level four blast, aimed squarely at the thinnest part of the horde, the line of three-to-four stuffed between me and the line of parked cars. The expanding blasts of air exploded between the ghouls packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and even as the hole was forming, I took two steps and dove forward.
Their hands clutched at me, but thanks to the laws of momentum, I slipped through their clutches. I had chosen my rabbit hole well. My dive took me between two parked cars, and even though one of my metal boots clipped a rear bumper, I'd take the somewhat-less-than-graceful (trust me, my landing deserved that many hyphens). I managed to roll through the impact, saving my shoulders the pain, and got to my feet quickly. The parked cars, close to the curb, kept the horde from immediately coming right after me, a solid wall of Detroit...semi-Detroit...steel and glass. The street itself held a few ghouls, nothing I couldn't handle. My immediate concern, now that I had room to work with, was plucking the wings from the Vulture.
I craned my neck, looking up at the leafy trees extending their limbs over the street. Nothing. If Toomes wanted to crash through the canopy at me, I'd hear him long before he got to me. The far side of the street was clear. Behind me...
He was doing it again, but this time, there weren't any obstructions or zombies to block him. Adrian was coming in low and fast. His metal wings were at full extension, the tips inches away from leaving long scratches on the line of parked cars, gliding just feet above the asphalt. Part of me, the engineering part of my mind, stared in wonder as a man who couldn't even take a leak without assistance a few short months ago now glided like an ancient pterodactyl.
The other, much more prominent part of my brain, exclaimed "oh, crap" as I brought up my gauntlets and fired off a salvo of level two blasts in Adrian's direction. The air rippled as they flew towards him...and with barely a twitch of his wings, the Vulture sailed over them, letting my attack pass harmlessly under his torso. Before I could fire off another series, he was in my face, flapping his wings and coming to hover just inches away from me. I raised my arm to fire a point-blank blast, but the sharp tips of his wing cut down across the back of my forearm. Even as the pain registered in my arm, the steel claws on his gauntlets slashed and grabbed at my face, going for my eyes. My other arm came up to defend myself on reflex, and Adrian took advantage, sinking those claws into the meaty part of my limb, slicing past my contact plates and embedding the hooks under my skin. I cried out in pain, cursing as I locked eyes with Adrian. Those beady eyes twinkled with glee, predatory grin underneath, taunting me as he suddenly yanked backwards, flesh and fabric pulled away. Now, I yelled out in pain, blood dripping from the tips of the claws down to the street below. This was hand to hand combat and a guy in his sixties was wiping the damn floor with me!
I clutched at my wounded arm, cursing, as Vulture pulled his arm back one more time, raised above his shoulder for the killing stroke. "And now, Herman, you..."
Using my good arm, I lifted my wounded arm and aimed it right at his face. The poor bastard might have gotten kung fu lessons, but cocking his arm back left his head wide open. His eyes, already wide with the joy of putting me down, got just a little bit wider as he went from "killing Herman" to "getting shot in the face by Herman" in 0.0 seconds flat. Ok, maybe I rounded down, but I wasn't going for numeric accuracy at the moment.
I thumbed the trigger of my vibro-smasher, sending a level 2.0...God damn it...a level two blast directly into Toomes' face at point-blank range. His hands immediately went to his face, clutching as the air exploded around his nose and eyes. "You blinded me," he croaked, as one of his wings lashed out at me over his shoulder. I felt the passing of the sharp edges just as I let loose with a second blast, this one a level-three, and this one aimed at his chest. His power armor was probably protected there, and I didn't expect to cause any damage to his harness. But what it did so was shove Toomes back a few feet, his hands still holding his face, giving me enough room to cock my own arm back...
Now, I ain't ever going to knock walls down with one good punch like Rhino can, but throwing a punch at the same time I'm triggering one of my blasts? The poor schmuck on the other end will wish he got knocked into a wall...look, the analogy sucks, but its there, glean something from it.
I waited for that split second when Adrian pulled his hands back, and then I stepped forward, planting both feet and turning my torso. My arm flew forward, fingers curled into fist, as my thumb pressed down on the button. I could see the air ripple and shimmer around his head, wrapping around his skull as my metal glove connected square and true (with an EXTREMELY satisfying crunch) with his nose. His body turned in mid-air, feet flying towards me as his upper half was propelled backwards. Against the motion of his wings, the Vulture flew a few feet away from me before coming to a halt, crashing onto the ground back first. Adrian moaned, with his head lolling to one side as his wings twitched beside him.
Ok. I could finish this guy off right here and now, and I was sorely tempted. Two idiots trying to kill me two nights in a row, on top of a city full of zombies? Electro I could kind of understand, since I had blundered into his little bank job. But the Vulture had hunted me down, sought me out, and apparently, if what he said earlier was the truth, it was at the behest of the same "boss" who Electro had been working for when Maxwell Dillon still walked among the living. I wanted answers. I had almost died tonight because of Adrian Toomes, and the reward I deserved for living was a chance to beat the hell out of the Vulture and get an explanation for the past two nights.
My chest was on fire, and my arm throbbed with pain, but hey, my legs were still taking orders. I stepped forward to where Vulture lay quietly groaning on the asphalt, but as I closed, more moans began to mix in with Adrian's dismay. Behind him, barely ten feet away, a trio of zombies walked up the street towards the two of us. All three wore the same uniforms, from a private prep school on the Upper West Side. The lead zombie had half a head of lovely blonde hair, the other half having been torn away along with the rest of her scalp. After a moment, I took a few steps backwards, my good arm held at the ready. Alright, here was a good chance. Let these jokes close in on Adrian and claw away at his scrawny ass for a few seconds. Either he fights them off and gives me a wide opening to pummel him some more, or I blow them away and earn his gratitude. Or, of course, he dispatches all three with a swipe of his wing and somehow pulls out a big particle cannon from his pants and disintegrates me in one shot.
Come on, the way my luck has been the past hour, who wouldn't be surprised if something like that happened to me?
I kept my gloves trained on the ghouls, making sure the street was clear behind me. The horde was still penned up on the sidewalk, too many zombies fighting to squeeze through a narrow space between cars parked bumper to bumper. Good. It was just me, Adrian, and these three 'NYC Prep' rejects. The snarls and cries of the sidewalk crowd didn't faze me as the first ghoul reached Adrian. He was still on the ground, facing the sky, his wings flat on the street. One of the blonde's arms reached out...
She stepped on the metal wing, bloody lips pulled back as she stumbled towards me. The other two passed on the opposite side of the fallen Vulture, not paying the moaning villain a single bit of attention. One loafer-clad foot brushed against the green metal of Adrian's foot as the blonde clenched her fingers in my direction, snapping her jaw at me.
"No..." I said softly, taking a step backwards. "No, Adrian's down, he's a meal, he's lunch, he's right there! Why the hell..." That voice, kids, was panic. Instead of taking the time to munch at the Old City Buffet, these three were coming right for me! The blonde was closest, and my blast dropped her with ease. The second went down without trouble too. The third one, though, a younger man, probably still a teenager, with gray skin and perfectly coifed hair, I stepped forward, and grabbed him in the shoulder. The thing didn't snarl, groan, or snap, but quietly leaned forward, mouth wide open before I shoved him backwards. He stumbled, colliding with the Vulture's lower body and falling onto the street. Adrian was stirring, trying to sit up, and this thing could have simply rolled over and taken a bite out of his exposed neck. But instead, it grabbed onto Adrian's body, and used it to get back to a standing position. It never even once looked at Adrian, but focused solely on me.
"God, no..." I stepped away, wondering what the hell was going on. Why wasn't it going after a free and easy meal? Why...why was it still coming after me? I didn't even have time to give these questions any sort of thought as Adrian was on his knees now, staring at me as the zombie went for me. An evil smile was on Adrian's lips as he saw my plight. A flap of his wings pulled him back to his feet as the zombie fell upon me again. This time, I flung him down to the ground, and jammed my foot down onto his chest. Both of its arms wrapped around my boot as I took aim at his head, firing a level one to kill the brain.
"Herman..." I had a shrill voice tease. Looking out, I saw the Vulture crouched on the roof of an SUV. Blood ran down his face, staining the pale skin. "You really should run." Before I could fire a blast at him, the bastard took a step backwards, into the crowd of zombies that pushed and strained to get at me from the sidewalk! He actually dropped down into the horde, and their gazes never once left my body.
How in the...
Things were either moving too fast, or my body was just slowing everything down. The SUV wobbled on its wheels for a few seconds as I watched. It rocked back and forth on it suspension, each time leaning a little further towards the street. By the time the wings flapped, giving Toomes enough force to overturn the SUV, I was already stepping backwards, away from the vehicle. With a loud crash, the SUV landed on its side, bending metal and shattering glass. Behind it, I could briefly make out the green metal form of the Vulture before the view was blocked by the horde of zombies pouring into the wide opening, stumbling towards me, the sheer number causing the group to turn into a flood as they flowed into the street.
"Run, Herman!" I took Adrian's mocking advice to my beating heart, turning and sprinting, ignoring the pain in my arms as they pumped, moving away from the horde towards the narrow alleyway between two brownstones. I saw the streetlights on the other side, and as I barreled into the alley, the shrill voice of the Vulture cried into the Manhattan night.
"RUN, HERMAN! I WANT YOU TO DIE TIRED!"