"Faster! Gotta go faster," I urgently called into Spider-Man's ear.
"You're not exactly a stabilizing influence, Herman! I'm going as fast I can!"
"Well so is he!" Half a block behind us, the Hulk landed on the sidewalk, cracking the concrete from the impact. Slowly, he turned to face us, and then launched himself into the air again. His motions were still like a puppet, jerky and a bit wild, and it took him a second to readjust his "aim" before jumping after us again. But man, who needs to fly when you can leap tall buildings in a bound or two?
He had been after us for the past five blocks. As Spider-Man swung down the residential streets with me in tow, the Hulk had leapt after us. We passed over abandoned cars, burned bodies, and the general debris of a fleeing populace. The Hulk would leap off the sidewalks, from the center of street, and even touching on the side of a building for a split second before pushing right back off, some kind of crazy undead parkour runner. Spider-Man was using the rooftops and streetlamps for leverage, going faster than I could ever have run. But the Hulk kept up with us, not letting us drop out of his sight for a second.
"What the hell did you do to tick him off, Herman? Maybe you're on to something blasting him in the head." Spider-Man hung a tight corner, taking us around to a cross street. Within seconds, the Hulk slammed into the edge of the apartment building at the intersection and leapt away, bouncing off the street, still on our tail.
"I ain't about to stop and try it again! Where the hell is everyone else? If he catches up with us, we're done for!"
"Don't worry! We have a backup plan," he shouted over his shoulder as he whipped around yet another corner.
"I thought I was the backup plan!" At the speed we were swinging through the air, I couldn't tell if the Hulk was getting closer, but the entire Eastern Time Zone was "too close" in my mind right now. Being chased by an undead Hulk was bad. Being chased by an undead Hulk who's apparently fixated solely on you is worse. Was I that damn tasty in the eyes of the undead? Now the Hulk, first the zombies ignoring the Vulture and coming right at me. Did I get marked somewhere along the line? With my luck, those magic healing pills Boomerang gave me made me give off pheromones that attracted the undead. Could have attracted, say, stunning blondes in Spandex, but no...
"Blasting him in the head didn't work, so this is the backup to the backup plan!"
"How many backup plans do we have?"
"Three. Six, if Hank Pym's with us! Now, hold on, we're gonna swing around this corner and hit the ground!"
In mid-air, he swung me around, and now I was hanging from his neck. As best I could, I clung to Spider-Man with one good arm and one bad arm as he spun another line of webbing and took a wide turn around the corner. We were in a more run-down neighborhood now, with crumbling brownstones and a few shuttered stores. Hell's Kitchen? I didn't even know from all the spins and turns we made. "Hang on," Spider-Man yelled again as he turned onto the new street. Instead of shooting a new bit of webbing, he dove towards the street, arms and legs extended to take the impact, soaring just a few scant feet underneath where Ms. Marvel whooshed overhead.
I turned my head just as the Hulk turned the corner. He landed just past the intersection, and had leapt back into the air when Ms. Marvel dove at him, both fists extended in front of her. The audible crack of the impact snapped at my ears as they collided. The Hulk suddenly changed direction as the blonde Avenger hit him with everything she had, stopping him cold and pushing him towards the street. As he fell, she soared right after him, never letting up for a moment. The Hulk slammed back-first into the pavement an instant before Ms. Marvel drove herself into him, cratering the big guy into the street. The Hulk's body bowed slightly, his waist sinking into the pavement from the impact. As Spider-Man came to a halt, Ms. Marvel crouched on his chest, one hand raised, and pounded a might blow into him. And another. One hand kept her balance while the other hand was like a damn jackhammer, just punch after punch into the head of the Hulk. Each punch was accompanied with a shriek-like sound of anger and fury from the blonde bombshell, artillery-like blows trying to finally put the massive zombie down for good, sending pieces of the street flying into the air...
It was just one arm, casually swatting her away. It was almost like a shove, just one green hand pushing her off of him and through the air into a pick-up truck parked on the side of the road. She smashed into the side-panel and flipped into the back of the truck's cargo bay, disappearing from view. Using both arms, the Hulk slowly pushed his way out of the crater. From where Spider-Man and I stood, we could both see the blood red eyes peering at us from underneath hooded lids.
"I'm gonna run out of webbing at this rate," Spider-Man said as he grabbed my waist again. "Hold on, we'll line up Tho..."
The asphalt whipped through the air, throw side-arm by the Hulk. At close range, not even the wallcrawler's split-second reflexes could help him. Spider-Man took the brunt of the attack as the street slammed into him, knocking him away from where I stood. Part of the asphalt struck my wounded arm, filling my vision with white stars in the process as I spun away, clutching my shoulder in reflex. It took a few seconds to clear my head as I gritted my teeth, cursing under my breath at the pain. By the time I opened my eyes and reassessed the situation, he was towering over me.
His chest was dented, surely with broken bones or bruised necrotic muscle from all the impacts the Hulk had taken from Ms. Marvel and Thor. But the skin was unbroken, a uniform pale gray-green. My brain locked up...the rational, conscious part of it, at any rate. Fear just got ball four and took its base. Instead of doing the right thing and running the hell away as fast as my tired legs could take me, I slowly raised my head, taking in every part of the massive form standing in front of me. He could have knocked me dead in that moment. One flick of his finger and odds are he could have sent my head into the atmosphere. But instead, the Hulk was a statue, unmoving. My throat went from dry to parched as I took in the green giant. This was the Hulk, a guy who tossed Thor and Ms. Marvel around like toy cars, the warrior who caused an evacuation of New York City a few months back with just a few words. This was the guy who gave the toughest guy I knew, the Rhino, all the hell he could handle, and even gave the Juggernaut a run for his money. Even dead, his muscles bulged under his skin. But it was his eyes that held my attention. I could make out a few spots of pale white as the red liquid inside made lazy circles, like a school of fish swimming on the ocean floor. Whatever the Hulk was, he was a different kind of undead, one that could turn off its hunger and act with a little more focus.
I should have been running. But it was my own curiosity that rooted me in place. "What...what the hell do you want with me?"
The responding growl was low and throaty, and served to remind me that I was standing in front of the Hulk, who apparently wanted to kill me. I finally took a step backwards, getting ready to turn and run, which served to save my ass. His finger just lightly tapped my chest as he flicked it in my direction, casually trying to knock me away like I was a housefly. If I had taken it directly...is there a medical term for "a sucking chest wound without the massive external trauma?" Luckily for me, I didn't need to learn it at that moment because his attack barely grazed my chest.
That was a rib, I remembered thinking as I soared through the air backwards. I slammed into the pavement, the back of my head cracking against the hard asphalt. Even if my suit had still been functioning, I probably would have still flown the fifteen or twenty feet I just had. The padding of my mask did save me from anything worse than a series of bright stars shooting across my vision. It didn't take anything away, though, from the fact that one of my ribs was broken.
Jesus and all the little drummer children, I was a piñata of injuries. Slashed, burned, shot, punched, not to mention almost drowned, almost stabbed, and almost falling-to-my-death. Even groaning caused a shooting pain through my lower torso, and forcing myself to sit up made it worse. Didn't have a choice, though. I had to see what the pounding was that was making the street around me jump. And, just like I had imagined, it was a lumbering, charging Hulk, a few seconds away from stomping his foot down on my head and ending my brief, shining career as a quasi-press-ganged-Avenger, as well as, oh, my entire life.
It took me a second or two to fully gauge what was happening. Luckily, the Hulk's sprint towards me was more of a stumbling job, and it gave me plenty of time to roll out of the way. Of course, my dumb ass rolled the direction that put all my weight on my broken rib, but the yell I made was easily drowned out by the sound of the Hulk cracking the pavement as he drove his foot into the ground. His legs, from where I was rolling away, were like damn tree trunks, and his foot was at least halfway into the ground. I sat up again, trying to get to my feet, but the pain caused me to grab my side, gasping in agony and trying to catch my breath. Every inhalation felt like someone was stabbing me, but damn it, I needed to someone get out of there. The Hulk's head turned, red eyes staring down at me. The pavement cracked some more as he pulled his foot out of the street and swiveled on his other leg, stomping down at me again. Using my hands to scrabble away, I managed to avoid the worst thing possible as the Hulk's foot jammed down between my legs, my feet almost touch the sides of his foot. He tried again, swinging his other leg now. I felt like a crab scuttling backwards, my body somehow finding the means to jam enough adrenaline in my system for me to...discount the pain, to play it off, because I sure as hell wasn't ignoring it. It was right there, slamming cymbals and playing "The Immigrant Song" over and over again as I dragged my ass across the street. I managed to get further and further away, never far enough to risk getting to my feet, as the Hulk stomped his way after me. I was already trying to figure out how to use the sidewalk to push up and maybe dive to a side when my back collided with a parking meter. Figures. All that room and I had to bang against the ONE stationary object.
Before I could ditch to the side, he was there. His foot slammed down in front of my feet as the Hulk towered over me. The green Machine got a little closer as I tried to push against the parking meter to get to my feet. I knew it wasn't gonna work, one of his massive fists pulling back to throw a punch that would, literally, knock my head off...
I don't know what made me do it. Reflex, or the last desperate act of man about to crap his pants. As his hand flew at me, my hands came up, thumbs jamming down the triggers.
Pop.
Fill it in on your "Herman's Injury Bingo" card. That pop was the sound of my shoulder dislocating of joint from the twin level four blasts I let loose. Luckily, I didn't feel the bone scrape as it popped loose, because it was underneath about seven layers of agony as the bone DID push against the bullet wound.
I can't still be conscious. I can't. I've taken enough punishment this evening to make even the Marquis de Sade go "that has to be unpleasant." But I am. My body just won't let me black out, and I think it knows that the fade to black would be the last thing I ever experienced. It really shouldn't have mattered. If Mjlonir and Ms. Marvel's blows couldn't stop the Hulk, and a sustained series of blasts to his head didn't do a damn thing, two level fours glancing off his fist shouldn't have done a damn thing.
But they did. The Hulk's fist was caught between the two blasts as they soared through the air. As they passed by, my eyes, which hadn't yet closed in anticipation of being pounded, caught the punch stopping. It wasn't knocked away or halted by my blasts, but...it petered out. Just came to a stop, hanging in mid-air. The Hulk was still staring at me, still bearing bloody teeth, but that hand wasn't coming to Buster Douglas my ass.
Confused? So was I. The Hulk wasn't. More like...annoyed. That low growl again, and then his other hand swooped in. The air rushed out of my body as the green giant squeezed my throat and lifted. The tops of his fingers alone supported the rest of me via my jaw, and from where I was dangling, his thumb might have been the size of my neck. Time I should have spent blasting him again, I instead spent trying to pull his fingers away from my throat with my good arm, to absolutely no avail.
Suddenly, he had yanked me close. Nose-to-nose, his red eyes glared at me as I choked in his grip, my legs kicking, trying to find some purchase. This close, the Hulk could have bitten my head off, or otherwise devoured me like, well, a zombie. But he didn't. Instead of becoming chow for the Jolly Green Giant, the evening took another weird turn, because hey, what's one more plot twist in the Herman Humiliation Conga?
That low growl? It was back. But it wasn't constant, throaty, or angry. It was laughing. Imagine a lion chuckling, turn the bass up, turn the speed down, and that's what I was experiencing as I was helpless in front of the Hulk. This...undead thing...found me funny. Was that everything? Was this guy just toying with me? And everyone else who had tried to stop him? It beat being eaten, but...
"HULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLK!"
Ever seen an angry god? An angry god who was streaking down from the sky, blonde hair trailing, his hammer out in front, ready to lay a holy smackdown on someone?
Yeah, well, the Hulk had. The Hulk swung back his hand, and just as Thor was about to slam into him, he smacked the God of Thunder.
With me.
In case of emergency, Herman Schultz can be used as a melee weapon.
It was like running into a brick wall as I slammed into Thor's side hard enough to send him skidding off course. The Avenger hit the ground hammer-first, the legendary weapon cracking the ground. The ensuing crater split the street, and as I watched from where I was swinging, Thor disappeared into the ground, swallowed by his own impact. The Hulk looked at the large hole in the ground, and roared in approval, maybe in victory, as he still had me dangling from his first.
Spider-Man was still down. Ms. Marvel hadn't gotten up from the truck bed. And now Thor was literally six feet under. And where the hell was Hydro-Man?
"Hey..." My voice was weak, cracking from a lack of oxygen. But I was the last one standing, so to speak. And damn it, I wasn't going to let it end without some type of defiance. I didn't have a plan, but I had...something. The Hulk's head turned to face me, slowly rotating on his neck. I heard something crack and pop as he turned. The street? Maybe rigor mortis? I didn't know, I didn't care, but what I did do was...
"...is that all you got?"
In any other situation that saw me uninjured and not facing the Hulk, that might have been a sentence of defiance. In the case of the Hulk, though, it was apparently a personal challenge.
In case of emergency, Herman Schultz may also be used as a projectile weapon.
He reared his arm back, pulling me over his shoulder, and then did his best impersonation of a javelin thrower. With one hand, the Hulk sent me hurtling through the air. This time, at least, I was horizontally flying and not vertically falling. I easily cleared the row of parked cars, gliding over the sidewalk. I had time to acknowledge that I wasn't going to smack into the side of one of the buildings before, just getting my arms up, I crashed through a first-floor window.
It was that safety stuff, pretty indestructible. But in this case, my body smashed through the thick glass and the chicken wire woven throughout. Luckily, the back wall stopped my momentum as I slammed into his forearms first. I bounced backwards and hit the floor stoMACH first. And yes, just like you'd imagine, that was the slash wounds, burns, and broken rib that told me, though shooting pain, that they were still there and wanted to play, along with my right shoulder making a grab for attention.
I groaned. That was all the noise I could make. Now, darkness was starting to creep into the edges of my vision. Sleep. It seemed like a damn good idea. Just for a few minutes, like the nap you grabbed between subway stops. You'll wake up when you get to your destination. A minute or two, that's all I...
"Mister?"
A gentle hand rocked my good shoulder. The voice was a little girl's quiet and curious. "Mister Shocker? Are you ok?"
"Emma! Get away from him!" The adult female voice was louder, but something kept shaking at my shoulder anyway.
"I think he's hurt, Mrs. Robinson." I groaned in agony again, any thought of sleeping slowly drifting away as this girl kept trying to get my attention. "Are you ok," she repeated."
"Hell no," I replied. It took me a few seconds before I rolled over onto my back. Wherever I was, it was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs, with a white tile floor, and desks which had been shoved against the windows that faced the street. Leaning over me was a short girl, blonde hair, missing some of her teeth. She still had my arm, and now, she was trying to pull me up. "Hey, hey!" No, no, this is a little kid. "Hey," I said, gently pulling my arm away. "I'm ok."
A woman with black-hair quickly stepped over, and wrapped Emma up in her arms to pull her away. I slowly sat up, taking in my surroundings as the pair backed into a corner, where about a dozen other children, along with several adults, were well away from the windows. And me. The walls were covered with drawings in crayon, gold stars, glitter pictures...
...and on one wall, I could clearly make out a big photograph of two rows of young kids, sitting side-by-side, in a class photo lineup. And behind them, next to the teacher, was a huge pile of orange rocks, shaped like a man. Underneath, in large letters, "1ST DAY CARE SESSION OF THE DANIEL GRIMM YOUTH CENTER."
"Oh, this keeps getting better and better." Now that I was sitting up, holding my hand to my head. The bump I thought I felt forming was the least of my concerns.
"What's going on?" That was the black haired woman...Mrs. Robinson? She had the kids herded near a doorway, the adults surrounding them. "What are you doing here, Shocker," she said, her voice challenging me, a lioness protecting her cubs.
"I'm asking myself the same question." I grabbed at a nearby table, covered with art supplies and paste, to pull myself back onto my feet. "Lady, the Hulk's one of those things, and he's the one who pitched me in here. He's dead, and he's ticked off. You need to get those kids out of here before he comes in here and tries to finish the fu...the job," I stopped myself.
"There's nowhere else to go," she replied. "We're sitting here waiting to get rescued, and no one's showed up for two days."
"Wha...what?" I shook my head as I replied. "The Army's been through here. They should have picked you guys up."
"They did come through, and the officer in charge said they'd be back for us," she countered. "They helped us barricade the doors and drove off. We've been waiting every since. No one's come back."
"Damn it, you're kidding me. Well, you're in luck, lady. The Avengers are outside," I said, pointing to the window. "Thor, Ms. Marvel, Spider-Man. And SHIELD's on its way. But for now, you gotta move these kids before..."
Just then, one of the kids screamed loudly, a splitting cry that pounded on my eardrum. Almost immediately, one of the adults joined in, pointing at the window. A massive green hand reached inside the window, grabbing at the surrounding stone. The wall crumbled as the fingers dug into the masonry, and the arm they were attached to flexed as the Hulk pulled himself inside.
"Out!" I pointed towards the doorway. "Get them out of here!"
She didn't need to be told. The adult in the back flung open the door leading out to the hallway, grabbing two of the kids by the wrists afterwards. By the time the wall fell away, the adults had gotten the children out of the room. Which left just me and the Hulk. Screw coming in the window, he had ripped damn near half the wall down. As brick and mortar fell into him, the Hulk stepped through the opening, ignoring the concrete block that simply bounced off his shoulder.
"Thor? Ms. Marvel? Spider-Man? ANYONE? I could use some damn backup!" Even as I called...cried...for help, I fought the urge to step towards the door and run for safety. That's the direction the kids had gone, and if the Hulk got his hands on them...
He was inside the building now, hunched over, unable to stand straight due to the low ceiling, which made him look even bigger as all that muscle mass compressed downward. His very first step cracked the floor, a spiderweb instantly appearing on the tile floor. His second step just added to the damage as one hand casually flung a desk away. Those red eyes didn't hold anything now. No anger, no annoyance, no emotion. The Hulk advanced towards me, each step breaking the tile underneath his feet. Alone. Damn it, I was alone again. I kept finding myself in these situations. No Rhino, no Boomerang, not even a Speed Demon to back me up. My luck was just about to run out.
So the question was, as the floor buckled, how was I going to go? Cowering in fear? Quietly defiant? Smashers firing? Right now, I was going to go with frozen solid.
Halfway towards me, the Hulk stopped. Bent over, his feet embedded with pieces of broken asphalt and tile, the giant simply stared at me. And I stared back, at the crimson orbs embedded in his skull. I wouldn't beg. I wouldn't call for help. Maybe I had been a laughing stock, but for now, I was Herman Schultz, the Shocker, and damn it, I hope a bone gets stuck in the Hulk's throat as he eating me.
His mouth slowly opened. No roar this time. But that moan. Low, almost like the Hulk was gargling with blood. Hungry need. He was done playing with me. I stepped backwards involuntarily, pushing against the rear wall of the classroom, as the Hulk came forward again, still moaning. Each step cracked the floor, like Rhino did when he charged down the street...
...
...in retrospect, I didn't think it through. Which was a good thing, because if I had known how much it was going to hurt, I probably would have had second thoughts, and I couldn't spare the time for any. I had only two or three steps to time it just right, and it was on the second step, just before the Hulk's massive foot set down on the floor, that I aimed my gloves right at the floor where he was going to step, holding down both triggers to fire off two level-five blasts. One shot, for all the marbles.
Level five. The "ever see a parking meter stuck in a human being" blast. The attack where "you don't have kidneys anymore. Or a sternum." I think I said, "it'll liquefy your organs like an overpressure wave from a fuel-air explosion bomb." Now, I might have been bragging slightly, but it's still my Alpha Strike, the last resort attack when I'm all out of options. It's as close as overloading my gloves as I'm comfortable risking, and it threads the hell out of that line. Needless to say, it'll drop anyone, even Spider-Man, and I'm sure it'd give pause to a guy like Thor.
So imagine what it'll do to a floor.
The tile just vanished. It immediately fell away, turning into dust as the twin vibrating waves slammed into it, followed immediately by the Hulk's foot disappearing into the basement below. Just like that, half his leg was buried in the floor, and a split second later, as the floor decided that it couldn't take his weight, the Hulk's entire lower body just suddenly jerked downwards as it gave way. His hands tried to find purchase as he fell, gripping and grabbing at the tile. As he slid into the basement, somehow, the Hulk managed to grab onto the edge of the sinkhole, digging into the floor with his fingers. It couldn't quite hold him, though, and with a loud crack, his entire body vanished. The remaining bits of floor shook as he slammed into the basement, knocking over a desk and sending some of the art supplies on a nearby table to the ground.
I really didn't see any of this, though. Because I was screaming in agony, more pain than I had ever imagined running up and down my wounded arm. The recoil had vibrated up my arm and into the bullet wound, passing over my dislocated shoulder, and finally ending in my brain, where the pain receptors were having a field day. I bent over the table, gritting my teeth, as a pounding red filled my vision. Christ, Christ, Christ, Christ...deep breaths, Herman. Deep breaths. I wanted to pass out, oh did I ever. I just couldn't take anymore abuse. It was impossible. A mouse could have killed me at that moment with just one squeak. It felt like Electro was shocking me, the Vulture was slashing at me, Wolverine was stabbing me, the Punisher was shooting me, and Rhino was squeezing my shoulder between both hands, all at once. The sheer shooting agony was what kept me conscious. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to look at the hole. Limping due to the pain, I walked over, leaning on the desks to help me along. The hole opened up into the basement, alright, specifically the boiler room. Carefully, I peered over the edge, trying to see where the Hulk's body had landed.
The green form was standing up. He was on one knee, his hands pushing him from the ground. The basement floor had cratered from his landing, but the impact had done nothing more than faze him. Damn it. I didn't expect it to kill him, but he should be been, I don't know, stunned or something?
As he raised his head to stare at me, I braced myself as best I could. Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes after aiming, my shoulder flared up as two more level-five shots went in the Hulk's direction. My jaw ground against the rest of my skull as I peeled open my eyes to see the Hulk was back down on one knee, the floor beneath him now covered with cracked spiderwebs. He was back down. The level-fives had...not hurt him, but he wasn't trying to get back up. I didn't have a choice. Another set, the air exploding as the blasts shattered the floor around him. It was like a hot poker in my shoulder, but the Hulk shuddered under the attack.
"Shocker!" I didn't have to look up to know that Ms. Marvel was the one calling my name. "Shocker, are you ok?"
"In here," I yelled before setting off another blast. The cracks now reached across half the basement, and after the sound of vibrating air filled the room, the Hulk threw his head back and roared loudly once my assault hit him. "I think I got him on the ropes!"
A second later, the whoosh of air announced the blonde's arrival. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her hover for a second over the large hole in the floor, before suddenly zipping downwards. The resulting sound of impact was louder than my vibro-blast had been as Ms. Marvel's double-fisted attack slammed into the Hulk's face. But the sound of the basement floor giving way was louder. Her attack had been the final straw, and the force of our combined blows was enough to break the concrete. She hovered in mid-air as the Hulk fell through the new sinkhole, the floor around him collapsing, giving him no purchase. I could make out, through the falling debris, a latticework of metal and wood just before the Hulk broke through that, too, falling through the subway track. And the layer of pipes underneath that. And the layer of pipes underneath THAT layer. The sound of shattering wood and collapsing metal were music to my ears as the Hulk fell away from me, the sound of his cries lost in the noise of destruction.
Finally, he came to a stop. He slammed into an old, rusted pipe, probably from the turn of the century. The 20th century. The thick metal held its ground, refusing to budge even for the Hulk. Even from up above, I could hear the quick squishing sound as the pipe jammed through his skin and bone, bursting out of his chest. About six inches worth of blood smeared steel, when all was said and done, jutted from the Hulk's torso. Pipes and stone still fell as the Hulk's descent came to a halt. But he still was still groaning, his arms and legs moving in mid-air as he tried to figure out what exactly had happened to him.
Ms. Marvel didn't miss a trick. She flew down like an out-of-control freight train, leading with her foot. Passing through layers of underground New York, she slammed her boot into the chest of the Hulk, just above the pipe, and another six inches of metal burst through his torso. And still, one hand swiped at her. She easily avoided the attack, hovering just out of reach as his hand grabbed at her.
"Damn it," I yelled down to her, wincing as my chest flared. "What the hell is it going to take to kill him?"
"SHIELD's on its way," she called back. "They'll burn him, and that'll be the..." She paused in mid-sentence, sniffing the air. "Aw, damn it. I think he broke a gas main!"
My shoulders slumped as I detected just a slight hint of natural gas. "Damn it! Well, worry about that later, Ms. Marvel. We got civilians up here!"
"I know, Spidey and Thor are getting them out..." She stopped again. When she didn't start speaking again, I called after her.
"What's wrong now," I asked wearily.
"The guy doesn't know when to quit!" She stomped at him again, as the Hulk had both hands on the pipe, and was slowly trying to pull himself off of the pipe. He didn't have anything to push again, just using sheer strength to try to free himself, pulling his entire mass along the metal projected from his chest. "Damn it," she cursed again. "He just won't stay down, and with the risk of gas, I don't want to use plasmathrowers to burn him!"
You had to be kidding me. The Hulk was about as helpless as we could make him, and now using anything to incinerate him might blow up an entire city block. Personally, I was willing to make that trade, but I wouldn't be the poor guy holding down the trigger. "Just keep pounding him," I suggested. "Someone will think of something!"
"Well that better be you, Herman!" She kept kicking and stomping, trying to keep the green zombie pinned on the pole. "I can't do this forever!" She reared back with each kick, dropping down suddenly for added impact.
As I watched her, one of the pipes that had been broken during the fall shook slightly, before water began to pour out of it, slowly taking on the form of Hydro-Man, about halfway between myself and Ms. Marvel. "Wow," he exclaimed as more and more of him flowed together, "you guys are impossible to find."
"Bench! Where the hell have you been," I exclaimed.
"Trying to catch up to you!" He snaked towards me, the lower half of him still flowing from the pipe. "I ducked underground to absorb some more water, but when I popped back up, you guys were gone! And I ain't as quick as Thor or Spider-Man, so it took me a while to get here!" He wavered in front of me in his watery form, clear eyes without pupils giving me an once-over. "Damn, Herman. You look like you got put through the ringer."
"Hydro-Man! Get down here and give me a hand! We gotta keep the Hulk on this pipe!" At the sound of Ms. Marvel's yell, Hydro-Man turned and shot down the hole. His form turned into a giant fist, just passing Ms. Marvel and slamming into the Hulk's chest. The fist broke apart on impact, splashing around and below the green zombie, before reforming underneath him.
"You push, Ms. Marvel! I'll pull!" The fist split into two hands, each one flowing around the Hulk's upper arms before clamping down tight. The rest of Hydro-Man's "body" flowed after him, snaking into a pipe below the Hulk and apparently using it as a source of water. The Hulk's roar shook free some loose-hanging debris. Dust and small bits of masonry fell onto Ms. Marvel as she repeatedly kicked at the Hulk. His hands still clutched at the pipe, his only source of leverage. Slowly, he was pulling himself free, even as an Avenger and my friend were trying to keep him in place. "Hey, is that gas I smell," Bench asked as his form flowed down like a geyser in reverse.
"Yeah! Don't cause a spark or else we're gonna get flash fried," Ms. Marvel replied.
I wanted to help somehow, but it was taking everything I could do to remain standing. The strength of the Hulk was simply incredible. Without any leverage, he was freeing himself from impalement. How were we going to keep him down until SHIELD got here? Beating on him couldn't work. Burning him would blow up who knew how much of Yancy Street. Hell, I'm surprised we didn't just shoot him. At this point, I was ready to try jamming him under an industrial drill or some kind of metal press and just try crushing his head...
...
...pressure.
"Morris!" I cupped my hands and yelled down to my former teammate. "Morris! Try crushing him!"
"Huh?" His fists were now chains, constantly breaking and reforming as Hydro-Man tried to keep the Hulk down.
"Crush him! Like if he was at the bottom of the ocean!"
It took a few seconds, but I could see Morris slowly getting the idea. "Right! Right! I don't got enough water, though! I'd need Long Island Sound to get anything! Can you and Thor throw him into the ocean, Blondie?"
"We don't need to get his entire body, Hydro-Man! Can you squeeze his head? Maybe we can pop his brain like a balloon!"
"Hell," he replied, "I'll try anything at this point!" The chains broke away, reforming into a ball as the end of a long tether of water flowing from the pipe. The Hulk had managed to fight off Ms. Marvel's blows and pull himself about halfway off of the pipe he was impaled upon when Hydro-Man's body reformed beside the Hulk's head. Both watery arms lashed out, surrounding the skull of the Hulk. From the after-action report, Hydro-Man told me that he had jammed his "fingers" into the ears, nose, and eyes of the Hulk, filling the skull cavity with water before starting to squeeze.
THAT got the Hulk's attention. His massive hands immediately clamped down on the sides of his head, fingers clawing at his skull. Hydro-Man was pumping more and more water into the Hulk, filling every single crevice that he could. And it was working, because the Hulk was flailing and punching at the water globe surrounding him.
"YOU GOT HIM, MORRIS!" My rib protested at the scream, but screw it. We had finally hurt the Hulk. "Keep pouring it on!"
Hydro-Man's grunted in response. He was pushing more and more water into the Hulk's skull, compressing it from all directions. The water inside, being applied from every direction, couldn't push out any of the other openings, so the only thing it could do was force itself inward. The pressure in the deep ocean is applied by all the water above an object, or a human being, weighing down on it. You're down fifty feet, you have fifty feet worth of water pushing onto you from above. You're down five hundred feet, it's five hundred feet worth of water. Right now, all that force was being applied to the Hulk's brain, and Morris was pumping more and more into it. The effort must have been incredible, especially with the Hulk slapping and pulling at the waves of water pushing into his head. All that water, pushing on each other, pushing inward. Water was flowing quickly from the pipe Hydro-Man was using, pouring up through his body, down his arms, and into the Hulk's skull. Come on...come on...it's physics, it has to work. "You got this, Morris! You'll be the guy who took down the Hulk," I yelled as encouragement.
If the Hulk screamed, it was lost in the bubble of water surrounding his head. But Hydro-Man cried out, the sound of a man using his last effort to cross a finish line. A surge of water rippled up from the pipe, curving up his body like a shaken-up bottle of beer, before shooting down his arms and into the ear of the Hulk.
Pop.
The Hulk's arms went rigid for a second, before falling to his sides. His legs dangled in the air as he hung from the pipe, motionless. After a few seconds, the water surrounding him fell away, pouring down his body and down into the blackness below him. The remaining water flowed back into Morris' body, who's panting held a gurgling nature. "Holy...crap..." he breathed. "That was hard. His brain was like a damn diamond."
Ms. Marvel gently floated over to the still body of the Hulk. "Are you ok," she asked Hydro-Man as she studied the green giant.
"No...at the end there, the bastard tried to swallow me whole. Those things can't bite me, but floating around in the Hulk's liver ain't my idea of a good time." He waved a tendril of water at Ms. Marvel. "I'll be fine. Just make sure he's dead for good this time."
First, she bent the steel pipe at a 90 degree angle, to make it damn hard for the Hulk to escape if he somehow popped back to life, turning in to the side like it was taffy. Then, the blonde Avenger crossed her arms, hovering beside the Hulk. His limbs hung to the sides, and from his ears leaked a black fluid, blood and brain fluid dripping. "I think you did it, Hydro-Man. You squashed his brain." She carefully picked up one of the Hulk's arms, and let it drop down to its resting position. "Wow. Nice job," she praised him.
"Herman's plan," Hydro-Man responded. "I would have kept pounding on his skull otherwise...but thanks for the compliment," he said with a hint of pride in his voice.
"His eyes!" I yelled down at the pair from my perch above them. "Are his eyes still red?"
Ms. Marvel lowered herself slightly. The Hulk's eyes were wide open and sightless, staring back at her. "No, Herman. They're brown and white."
I let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Then I think he's down for good."
And my body thought so, too. My legs went limp, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head like I had suddenly gotten very, very tired. It all caught up with me at once, the punishment I had taken over the past few hours slamming into my soul with the force of a runaway train. No pain, no agony, just an unfightable urge to pass out. Slowly, my body fell forward, and soon I was falling down...down...down...
As Ms. Marvel caught me with both arms, just before I passed out, I distinctly remember the two words that went through my head. The blonde avenger had just saved my life, and I found myself in a position to finally confirm what I had thought for all these years.
"What knockers."