"So, welcome to my new home." The Grim Reaper swept his left arm over the length of the church. "It's big, it's historic, and once we cleared out the few parishioners who refused to leave, we found it to be downright comfortable. And you can't beat the location. Only a few blocks from the beating heart of New York City!" He lowered his voice for the next sentence. "The mass of humanity sitting like helpless ducks in Central Park."
Eric Williams. Brother to Simon Williams, aka Wonder Man of the Avengers. Member of the Maggia organized crime syndicate. Longtime blood enemy of the Avengers. Sorcerer of the black arts. Former zombie, until he was resurrected. And, apparently, the man responsible for the zombie uprising.
It made sense. It made a lot of sense.
Eric Williams had always lived in his brother's shadow. Where Simon Williams went on to become a businessman, a movie star, and an Avenger, Eric turned to the Maggia and became one of their top associates out in Las Vegas. When Simon died at the hands of the Avengers (long story, short version, Wonder Man used to be a bad guy), Eric turned to the Tinkerer. To a vengeful Eric, it made perfect sense to have his right hand amputated, replace it with a scythe, and wage a personal war against the Avengers. Even when it turned out Wonder Man wasn't dead (again, long story), Eric, now calling himself the Grim Reaper, continued to take on the Avengers time and time again, fighting with his brother most of the time. Somewhere along the way, the Grim Reaper died, but was brought back to life, picking up a bit of black magic during the process. I don't know the details, since magic's not my thing and it is a bit weird to ask someone "hey, so tell me all about the time you died."
People look at the Grim Reaper and saw a big guy, in power armor, with a scythe that could drain the life from someone, shoot AND deflect energy blasts, slice bullets out of mid-air, and turn into a mini-helicopter that let him fly. Add to it the very image of the Grim Reaper as Death himself to most of humanity, and you had a guy people were a little wary of crossing. Here was a guy who could hold his own against the Avengers and screwed around with the dark arts. They always forgot one thing, though. Eric Williams is a master criminal as well. You don't rise in the Maggia without being good at being bad. There's a reason the Grim Reaper, even in that outfit, ran things out in Las Vegas for years under the reign of the Maggia. Adrian had been right earlier. I had worked with him before. Once, during the registration mess, we had tried to reform the Sinister Six. Note the use of the word 'once.' But I knew Williams, and I knew his reputation.
Technology. Magic. Thuggery. Add it all together, and yeah, here's a guy perfectly capable of bringing about the end of the world given the right tools and proper motivation.
X
"So...this is all your doing, Eric."
He responded by gently waving the scythe in my direction. "Reaper, please. You may stand on informality with Dillon, but you won't with me. And yes. The worldwide resurrection of the dead was my doing. I had some help, of course, but the onus falls upon me, Herman."
There was only one question I could follow up with. "But...why, man?"
He stared at me for a second, just a heartbeat's worth of time that made me regret opening my damn mouth. "Come on, Herman. Let's talk. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'll do my best to answer them and explain what the hell's going on. Baron Toomes," he called to the ceiling above us, "keep an eye on the outside and alert me if someone approaches. Everyone else, use this time to prepare for the final phase of our master's plan."
As the rustling of metal wings passed by overhead, the Grim Reaper motioned with his scythe towards the back of the church, past the altar. "Let's speak in privacy, Herman," he said politely before walking past me. I took a few wary steps in that direction, one eye on the Grim Reaper as I followed. He walked behind me, each step echoing. Electro took a step backwards, to let us pass, before moving back to stand beside the altar. Near the very back of the church, under the tall stained glass windows, there was a wooden throne, where the priest holding the Mass would sit. That's where the Grim Reaper was heading. He spun around, his cape flourishing behind him, and parked himself in it, sitting down as I stopped in front of him. Something must have been leaking back here, because I could hear a steady "drip, drip, drip" coming from somewhere. Damn. When even Saint Pat's is falling apart, you know New York's in trouble.
Reaper slumped a bit in his throne, leaning on his hand as he spoke to me in a casual tone, like two people chatting over a beer. "You should be dead, Herman. You should be dead many times over. But here you are."
"Yeah, no thanks to you, Reaper. First Electro, then the Vulture, and then the Hulk?"
"Electro and the Vulture, yes. They were sent out to kill you, Herman. But the Hulk was just pure fate. Trust me, I didn't set out to use the Hulk to kill you. That would be like using an atomic bomb to end a bedbug infestation." He smirked under his helmet. "You just got in his way, and I figured I might as well kill you while you were offering yourself up on a silver platter And you ended up getting him killed as well."
"He was already dead. I saw the bite wound. The Hulk was some kind of souped-up zombie, Reaper. And since he had red eyes, and you have red eyes, and Electro and Vulture now have red eyes, I'm going to hazard a guess and say you had something to do with him taking on the Avengers." Reaper simply nodded in acknowledgement. "Alright then. So, was he working for you? Did you bring him back to life like you did Heckel and Jeckel out there?"
"No, Herman, he wasn't working for me. I...borrowed his corpse when he died. That's the best way to put it." Reaper leaned forward slightly, his left hand resting on his right wrist. "Herman, allow me to be frank..." He paused, before chuckling briefly. "No, that would be ironic. Allow me to be honest. I want you working for me. Killing you has become more trouble than it would possibly be worth to me. You've proven time and time again how adaptable you are, surviving the end of the world...no, not surviving. Thriving. You're a lone wolf, one light in the darkness. A candle that could easily be snuffed out with a snap of my fingers. But you refuse to die. You refuse to just roll over in the face of impossible odds, Herman. Look around you, though." He motioned to the entirety of Saint Patrick's in a wide, sweeping gesture. "The odds can't get any longer. This is where I offer you a chance, Herman, to stop fighting and join up with what Dillon calls 'the winning side.'" Another low chuckle, the laughter mixing in with the sound of dripping. "But let's be honest. It's really 'the eternal side."
Silence. I just stared at him, not saying a word. Reaper did the same for a few seconds, before going on. "I understand your apprehension, Herman. You probably think I'm turning my back on the human race, handing them over to the living dead. But let's be honest. What has humanity ever done for you? Oh, sure, right now, they love you, Herman. You're a star. You're hope in human form. And when that's over? Do you think they'll respect you forever?"
After I didn't say anything for a bit, with only the sound of dripping to break the silence, he plowed on. "Respect is nice, don't get me wrong. There's a reason I chose this image, this persona for myself. Death. Nothing gets more respect. It's why people eat better, exercise, go to the doctor all time. It's the one thing in this life that's certain. That life ends. And soon, life will end for humanity, Herman."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His lower lip was sucked into his mouth as the Grim Reaper studied the silent me. "I know it's a momentous decision, Herman. Maybe I spoke too soon. Not all of humanity will be gone. Just most of it. There will be a few left to serve us, to be our entertainment, to keep us from being bored. That's something you always wanted, isn't it? The most reward for the minimum amount of work?"
Drip. Drip.
"It can all be yours, Herman. You've shown talent, skill, resolve...here's your chance to get everything you wanted."
Drip.
"Just say the word, Herman."
Dr...
"Say it, Herman," he hissed at me. "Don't stand there like a mute beggar, say you accept."
"Why?"
One simple question. One easy word. And it seemed to throw Reaper for a loop. He leaned back on his throne, studying me with red eyes. "Why? Herman, pay attention when I speak."
"I really don't give a damn about your pitch right now, Eric."
THAT got his attention. He quietly leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Herman, don't think my patience has no limits."
"Alright, sorry...Reaper." I put my hands out in a peaceful gesture. "But seriously, that's your pitch? No offense, but I'm standing in a city that's seen demons invade, giant robots crash land, massive aliens hovering overhead threatening to eat the planet, superheroes running around beating the hell out of each other. You're going to have to forgive me if I don't foresee the damn Avengers kicking down your front door at some point in the near future and Sentry throwing you into the sun."
"And if that happened, Herman, would you join them in fighting me? Or would you get out of their way?" The Grim Reaper leaned back now, resting comfortably on his wooden throne. "The Avengers have been accounted for, Herman. Believe me when I say, I wouldn't be trying to hand this planet over to the living dead without accounting for every last detail. Granted, I've had to improvise, considering that people I thought would have hidden under their couches or taken advantage of this situation had instead joined the fray against me, but they're nothing in the grand scheme of things."
I took a step forward, feeling just enough courage to risk an act. He didn't budge or react, staying slumped back on his throne. "You aren't answering my question, Reaper. I want to know why you're doing this. Don't tempt me with rewards that I'll probably never see. Give me your reason. That's what I want to know."
"Very well. You want to know the truth. The reason why things work. No wonder you went the engineering path, Herman." The Grim Reaper sat up now, one hand and the wrist attachment of his scythe set upon the armrests. "I had a vision a few weeks ago. It came to me as I was holed up in a second-rate Maggia safehouse in Trenton. I was tinkering with my scythe when I saw my future, Herman. As clear as day, my fate was laid right out before me. I lay in a prison infirmary, my life bleeding out from a shank in my chest...and my brother, Simon, the sniveling caveman was holding my hand as I lay dying. The indignity of having the man I hate the most on this entire planet soothing me and telling me everything would be alright..."
Reaper took a deep breath. I watched as his shoulders moved. Was he still alive? Or just breathing for dramatic effect? I kept an eye on him, trying to see if under that power armor, he was still using his lungs. "I remember one thing, though. As clear as day. Simon told me that it was the fault of the American people that I had been stabbed. That they had made a mistake, putting their trust into the hands of the man who had paid off a prisoner to kill me.
"And that man...was Norman Osborn."
Drip. Drip.
"Osborn," I asked incredulously. "Norman Osborn? Seriously?"
"Seriously."
God damn it. Why the hell does everything in the damn world have to come back to Norman Osborn? The entire universe is revolving around this damn guy!
"So you saw a vision where Norman Osborn is responsible for some prisoner shanking you? And that's what set you off?"
"There's more, Herman. He who showed me the vision took me further into the future, past my death. My death, due to the machinations of Norman Osborn, were just part of a list of objectives he wants to complete. And once he's achieved what he wants, Herman, Osborn will put this entire planet under siege. In the end, everything dies. I saw cities burning," the Grim Reaper told me. "I saw the seas boiling. Animals turning on each other. Plants withering and dying. And in the very end, even over an empire of ash, Osborn still waging war."
"...right. Don't get me wrong, Reaper, it sounds like something Osborn would do. But come on, you had a bad daydream."
"You don't get it, Herman. Peel back your perceptions of reality for one second. I saw this vision. And I heard a voice...it spoke to me, Herman. He showed me these things, and told me what had to be done."
Great. Now we've added voices into the mix. I'd say Grim Reaper's gone bye-bye if it wasn't for the red eyes and the fact he seemed to raise two of my former colleagues from the dead.
"So someone showed you the future? Did you happen to get a name, or was this an unlisted phone call?"
The Grim Reaper laughed in response. "I know his name, Herman. It is a name not to be mentioned lightly. But I owe you that much, since you're seeking such knowledge. He's known by many names across many dimensions..."
"Oh, come on, can you just cut the theatrics, Reaper? You know me. The whole big song and dance, it doesn't impress me. The chase, get to the chase."
Maybe...maybe that was the wrong path to take. His eyes suddenly flared brightly, the deep red being replaced by a bright ruby. I took a step backwards, almost tripping over my feet, as the Grim Reaper's head burst into crimson flames. He didn't flinch from the heat, but I felt it crash into my face, a wave of energy that smacked my brain across the frontal lobe. Rock still, unfazed by the inferno that engulfed his skull, the Reaper's mouth opened. What poured out was eternity, speaking with the voice of forever. I had to grab on to a nearby support pillar as I sunk to my knees, my body in pure awe as it spoke.
"I AM THE ENVOY OF CHAOS, HERMAN SCHULTZ. MY GAZE HAD TURNED UPON YOU. YOU HAVE DRAWN THE ATTENTION OF THE LORD OF THE DARK DIMENSION. I AM THE DREAD ONE. I...AM DORMAMMU, AND ERIC WILLIAMS IS MY VOICE UPON THIS DYING EARTH."
Each word scraped into my eardrum like a sharp nail. I watched as the flames wreathed around the Grim Reaper for a few more seconds, illuminating the area around him, before suddenly snapping out of existence. My eyes had to readjust to the sudden lack of fire as Reaper slowly smiled at me. "Now you know, Herman. He's the one in charge. I'm just his right-hand for the moment."
"...yeah." I had nothing. That...if that wasn't a god, it was pretty damn close. And I don't mean a god like Thor. I mean...I could imagining people worshipping in fear and awe, giving their devotion simply because he was that powerful. I had never heard of his name before this evening. I would never forget it for the rest of my life.
"You know now why I wouldn't use his name casually, Herman. His name holds such power, it should be spoken with respect and praise."
Ok. Ok, ok, ok. I'm finally in WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY over my head. Zombies, ok. Supervillains trying to kill me, ok. Billionaire industrialists screwing me over? Par for the course. Things other dimensions knowing me by name? Oh dear God...if you're looking for someone to crack quality quips in the face of pants-crapping terror, go find Spider-Man. I'll be standing here paralyzed.
"He showed me what had to be done, Herman. He showed me how to stop Osborn. Told me what I had to do. Who I had to talk to. Late at night, he'd whisper into my ear, telling me what circles to draw. Where to incant passages from certain books. Which graves to dig up. Who to recruit. All of it, Herman. Every action building upon itself, all leading up to one glorious moment, when the final sacrifice was made. It was a fine bit of irony...the Hood died screaming, but within minutes, Herman, he had sat back up and stumbled out the door. An hour later, the first reports started to filter in. Two hours later, the body of the Wrecker that our sacrifice had infected reanimated in SHIELD headquarters. From there, it was time, Herman. Just a simple matter of time, before the whole rotten structure collapsed upon itself."
"...that's your plan? That's...his plan? To stop Norman Osborn, you're going to kill humanity? How does that help anyone? How does that save humanity? It doesn't make sense, Reaper."
"Save humanity? Herman...why would I want to SAVE humanity? Didn't you hear what I told you? My brother told me it was America's fault for putting their trust in the hands of Norman Osborn. And the rest of the world has sat by and done nothing. This whole plan isn't about saving humanity, Herman. It's about making sure Osborn isn't the last man standing. It's to make sure HE is. With the right people around to make sure everything that remains runs nice and smooth."
Follow the bouncing ball, Herman. "So...this isn't about stopping Osborn for the sake of the human race. It's about stopping Osborn so YOUR boss can rule over the planet once everyone else is gone."
"He's been trying for centuries. It was only recently that he came into possession of something that gave him the ultimate opportunity. A way to bring back the dead, Herman. Not resurrection, because I know something about that," Reaper clarified. "But, much like those old movies, the reanimation of dead flesh into something quasi-living. It just needed a little refinement, Herman. A little tweaking in the lab, some magic spells, a sacrifice or two, and we had it. A curse to lay upon the entire world. Once the last breath had left our final sacrifice, anyone who died became one of them. Of course, the Hood resisted, because he thought a zombie apocalypse would be bad for business. But my boss...he doesn't take 'no' for an answer Herman. But even in punishment, blessings are handed out. The Hood was the first, Herman, sliced open throat to waist and brought back to life. And it worked, Herman. It worked wonders. And when we turned her loose upon the Wrecker, not even Asgardian magic could stop our curse."
Curses? Sacrifices? Each sentence from the Grim Reaper pulled me further down the rabbit hole. This is what I wanted to know, right? "That's why Aleksei got scratched. Those things, they can tear through skin. That's why the Wrecker was all messed up. It's how Tombstone croaked."
"Tombstone...if he hadn't been too greedy, he could have had it all. I would have offered him the same deal I offered Dillon. But back on topic...if the living dead posed no threat to superhumans, the Avengers would tear them apart in a blink. By putting them at risk, I had hoped to make the Avengers and their ilk pause, consider their options, while our own plans were put into motion. To have them huddle behind closed doors while an army of the damned tore humanity to pieces. But then, on the very first night, bare hours…hours, Herman," he hissed at me, "after everything was put into motion, a pair of third-tier losers play hero on national television. After that, there was no way the Avengers could sit back and look like cowards, so they fly out of their hovels and do their jobs. And from there, crawling from their holes in the ground, the criminals, the villains, decided to throw their lot in with the heroes…"
Waves of anger crashed in his red eyes. "You were the fly in the ointment, Herman, of his grand plan. You had to be broken. How does it feel, Herman, to know you've annoyed a being so powerful that he's turned his gaze upon something so small, so insignificant?"
"Personally, Reaper? It's like being in the crosshairs of the Punisher after years of keeping my ass off the radar." Reaper gave an evil smile at my response as I plowed ahead. "Alright, alright, so…your boss…wants to kill me. Or convert me. So let's put that to the side for a second. I get the whole using magic to bring the dead back to life thing. I don't understand it, but I get it. That doesn't explain…" I waved a hand over my face. "…the eyes."
"Ah," he said, nodding at my statement. "I've been remiss. All this talk about the 'how' and 'why,' and I've missed one thing that would interest an engineer. What am I capable of? Where to start…" The tip of his scythe tapped on the ground as Reaper pondered his options. "Well, to begin, the living dead fall under my sway. They have their own instincts, of course, and base hungers. But if I wish for them to leave someone alone, to let them pass unhindered, they have no choice but to bend to my will. If need me, though, I could also take a more…direct control over one of the living dead. They become a puppet to my whims, dancing to whatever tune I play."
"Ah ha," I found myself saying. "That'd explain the Hulk, and why he wasn't trying to eat me or Ms. Marvel. You were controlling him so he'd kick everyone's ass."
"Exactly. Mr. Banner was indeed a mindless zombie when I came across him, but still, he could have served a purpose if it hadn't been for you and Hydro-Man. Hydro-Man...I never, not even in my most ambitious moments, would have imagined the Incredible Hulk laid low by Morris Bench," Reaper mused, waving a dismissive hand. "Moving on, consider Adrian Toomes. A few weeks ago, he was residing in an assisted living facility, a shell of a man. When I approached him, Toomes had all but given up on life, content to sit out and let the world pass him by. But I couldn't pass up his talents, his creativity. So I made him a very simple offer. His undying loyalty for a chance to soar over this city again, to sow the fear he once instilled in the citizenry. And when he accepted without a moment's hesitation...with my power over death comes the power over life as well, Herman. A snap of my fingers, and the effects of his stroke were gone. Just like that, the Vulture flew again."
I couldn't help it. I spat out the first thing that came to my mind. Not the absurdity of the situation, not the practical applications, not the world-ending ramifications...
"So you can raise the dead and heal the sick. At the first 'I am Jesus' comment, Reaper, my ass is walking out that front door."
He responded with a low chuckle, barely audible. "Right now, Herman, I'm bigger than Jesus."
Lightning didn't strike him for that comment. "Alright, so explain this to me. Adrian looked fine when he was trying to kill me a couple nights back. Now, though, he looks like a walking jigsaw puzzle. You couldn't heal that right up?"
"Astute question, Herman. Simple answer, though. I can't heal the dead." Reaper nodded towards the dark alcoves above the cathedral. "Toomes is dead, Herman. So is Dillon. They both died, but before the curse of my master could lay claim to them and bid them to rise as the living dead, I brought them back to life. Well, a semblance of life. They're tougher than when they were alive, and nearly impossible to put down for a second time. But...I can't cure what killed them. Dillon will always have those gunshot wounds to remind him of his death, and Adrian's skin will remain that way, as his body was in flames as he passed on. Death leaves his mark, Herman. Always."
One more question, the one that I had asked originally. "The eyes, Reaper. What's with them?"
"That's simple," Reaper replied. "My master asked me to come up with a mark, something to imprint upon the chosen. I've seen enough horror movies, Herman, to know red eyes make a simple, but unforgettable, statement. And that, Herman," Reaper said, "concludes our question and answer session..."
"One more question, Reaper." His face took on a scowl, his red eyes narrowing slightly under his helmet. "Ok, ok, sorry..."
"One more." Reaper slowly lifted his scythe, slowly jabbing it in my direction with each spoken word. "But only one."
I chose my words carefully. "The Hulk. What were you going to do with him? Just have him kick the crap out of the Avengers?" Silence. Reaper's response was just to stare at me. That dripping sound was still there, somewhere behind Reaper, as his red eyes studies me. Yeah, Eric was right – that are pretty unforgettable once they're bored in on you.
"Yes. What else would I have used him for?"
"Fair enough," I responded.
He stood up from the throne, smoothing out his cape before stepping towards me. "I will say this, Herman. You're taking this remarkably well. Toomes was more taken aback when I laid my grand design out for him. And Dillon screamed for an hour like a little girl after I pulled him back to life."
"Don't get me wrong, Reaper, this is still way over my head. By this point, though...I admit, seeing your boss with your head on fire threw me for a freakin' loop, but everything else...by this point, man, I'm just numb. My mind's damn near punch drunk."
"That's what I always liked about you, Herman," Reaper said as he came to a stop in front of me. "You always recovered well whenever anyone blew your cool." His hand rested on my shoulder. He may have been going for solidarity and camaraderie, but I just found it creepy and winced a bit at his touch. "Herman, you'll have a seat at the table. Nothing will be able to touch you. The world will be yours once the heroes have been eliminated. How could you possibly say no?"
I slid my shoulder out from under his grasp. "You killed the world, Reaper. This is...this is like the Crusades, World War II, and the Registration Act mess all rolled into one. And you...you expect me to want to join up?"
"No, Herman. I expect you to want to win." He patted me on the shoulder again, an almost caring gesture. "Think it over. There's still time. Let me know when you've decided."
I knew my answer. Even as he brushed past me, I almost yelled it out in pure defiance. "Screw you and the pale horse you rode in on, Reaper. I might be scum, but I'm not going to stand with the people who want to murder the world."
Reaper kept walking, calling over his shoulder as he strode towards the rows of pews. "You're making a very hasty decision, Herman. Take some time to ponder your options..."
"I don't need to." I called out loudly, letting my voice carry throughout the entire cathedral. "Nothing you offered me could make me want to help you end the world. You're...you're killing everyone. Even for you, Eric, that's a bit insane."
He turned slightly at the sound of his name. "Herman..."
"No. Uh uh. I don't care if helping you do whatever that guy who lit your skull on fire gets me a three-way with Ms. Marvel and Mary Jane Watson, it ain't worth it."
"Actually, Herman, I could make that happen."
"Hah! No, trust me, it's been a week since the world started to end. If some desperate woman hasn't ripped my clothes off and banged me like there was no tomorrow by now, it ain't gonna happen."
"Sarcastic, to the last." Reaper turned around, his cape billowing behind him. His right arm came up, pointing that scythe at me. An angry purple glow began to run up and down the length of the weapon, and his words dripped with dark poison. "Herman, ponder your next words very carefully..."
"Eric, I'll say this in terms maybe you could understand." In front of an entire church of proto-necromancers and two former colleagues who had died and been brought back to life, standing across the back vestibule from a man who had become Death incarnate, I crossed my arms and stood my ground. "If Aleksei was standing next to me, he'd shake his head that I'd even consider your offer. That right there, tells me all I need to know."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Of course. You'd take the imaginary advice of a dead imbecile over practical reality," he spat. "That explains so much about your actions over this past week." I just raised an eyebrow. No fear. No worries. Sure, I was probably going to die horribly in the next few seconds, but hey, I'm going out on my terms. That's all you could ask for, right? No zombies, no pistol barrels in your face, just you and Death. I couldn't smile, but I wasn't going to beg or cajole. My call, and I'd made it. Drop the chips, splash the pot, let's see how Herman Schultz leaves this world.
What I could make out of his face wasn't too pleased with my decision. But his words threw me for a bit of a loop. "Herman, I want you to do me one small favor. Just one. If you won't join me and help rule what's left of this planet, could you at least turn your blue collar skills to finding out what the horrible dripping sound is?"
Ok, trap. Extremely obvious trap. 'Sticking your head under a guillotine to figure out what's wrong with the tracks' levels of obvious pain and suffering trap. I didn't budge, not breaking my gaze from the Grim Reaper. After a couple of moments, he sighed, and motioned towards the back of the church. "I promise, it's not a trap." Which meant is was a trap. "I just want you to see if you could determine the source." Oh no, I wasn't falling for that. I just kept my arms crossed, not taking a step from where I was standing.
"Damn it. I knew you were stubborn, Herman, but this is beyond the pale. Fine. I was going to save the big dramatic reveal for when you found the source, but I'm running out of patience!"
"Hey, boss? I think I can salvage something out of this." From the side, Electro took a step forward, away from the stone pillar he had been leaning against. "Sometimes, people just ain't in the mood to play along. In that case, you gotta hit them over the head with a brick." He raised one of his gloved hands. From the tips of his fingers to his elbow, his entire forearm was sheathed in crackling energy. Grinning with a yellow smile, he took a step towards me. Oh, great, Shocker vs. Electro, Round 3. I took a few steps away from the advancing dynamo, my hands reaching out for anything to use as a weapon.
"I ain't surprised you're showing a bit of dumb pride," Electro said as he advanced towards me. "Maybe the boss should have told you, joining up with him means protection from me as well, Herman. I'm gonna enjoy killing you."
"No, Dillon, not yet! He might still be of use!"
"You should listen to your boss." My hands found a long steel candlebra. I whipped it around, holding it out in front of me to protect me from Electro. He paused as he saw my weapon, cocking his head to the side.
"Seriously? Herman, that's a metal rod."
"Well, I couldn't find a rubber bathmat to roll up and smack you with. Excuse me for trying to improvise."
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you yet, Herman. I just figured...maybe you need to see the light." Electro raised his hand, pointing towards the dark blue stained glass windows behind the wooden throne in the back of the church. A bolt of lightning streaked from an outstretched finger into the darkness, illuminating it with a shower of sparks as the lightning slammed into its target. The jolt of power kicked on a series of floodlights, shining brightly upon the back wall of St Patrick's Cathedral. The lower part, below the window, was lit up from the bright white lights. It took my eyes a second to adjust. Streaks of black kept falling through the white, messing with my vision. I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, before trying again, the smell of ozone lingering in the air. Everything toned down after a few seconds, allowing me to see the drops of liquid falling from the ceiling.
Drops of red liquid.
"Oh, crap," I said, my shoulders slumping. The tip of the candlebra tapped on the floor as it almost slipped from my hands. "That's blood, ain't it?"
"Just so we can eliminate yet another game of 'The Shocker Asks 20 Questions,' yeah, that's blood. Human blood. And it's coming from the last person to turn us down. Yo, boss, can we skip the theatrics and jump right to the big reveal?"
"Yes, Dillon," Reaper replied. "The hour is getting late."
"Now, Herman," Electro said as he raised both arms, pointing them into the high darkness above the stained glass, "you're going to want to pay very close attention to this part. Due to space constraints and, well, a pressing engagement at Central Park, this isn't your fate exactly. But you'll get the general idea if you say 'no' one more time."
Lightning exploded from the Villain of Voltage, instantly cracking through the air towards the stained glass windows. Electro maintained his pose, adding some showmanship to his stance, as the shot of power ignited another set of floodlights. "Get a good look, Herman," he yelled dramatically, enjoying himself way too much, as the high ceiling lit up, "at what happens to idiots who turn down the Grim Reaper! And if I could channel a little Jack Van Impe...behold the Upside Down Sinner!"
He was strung up at an angle, just past forty-five degrees, so the blood slowly dripped from his body, disappearing behind the high back of the throne before splattering on the stone floor. Since this was a church, and the Grim Reaper had decided to eschew "Hot Topic blasphemy" and go right for "desecration of the diocese," his legs had been crossed at the ankles and barbed wire used to bind his feet to the wooden cross. And, to complete the image, his arms had been pulled to the sides, and more barbed wire tied his wrists to the cross.
"I think binding him upside down was a great touch, boss," Max said as blood dripped from just below where his head rested against the cross. "Makes it easier to drain him dry."
"You gotta be kidding me," I breathed as I took in the scene. Drop by drop, they were killing the man crucified above one of the holiest sites in the United States. That would have been horrifying enough, especially since the pool of blood was just starting to seep under the foot of the throne. When you took into account just who it was they were keeping alive, letting him bleed out tiny drop by tiny drop, well, that just was the icing on the psychopathic...sociopathic...homicidal? Hell, keep it simple; the icing on the crazy cake. Just when I thought the rabbit hole couldn't go any deeper...
...seeing the Punisher trussed up and left to drain like a chicken showed me just how far gone the world was. And how much further did the Grim Reaper and his master want to push it over the edge?
X
"We made him an offer he couldn't refuse, and he refused it." Electro was smirking like the cat who ate the canary as I turned around to face him. "He turned down a chance to take Norman Osborn down a freakin' peg. Dumb move. You'd think a guy like that would jump at the chance...here I thought the guy who finally brought me down would have some intelligence."
"That's...that's the Punisher, Max," I said, gesturing over my shoulder.
"Uh, yeah, Herman. Like I said, Grim Reaper asked Castle if he wanted to work for us. And obviously...he said no. Violently." Electro gave a half-hearted shrug. "Luckily, Reaper got to Black Talon before he bled out. Never gonna see out of that eye again. And man, that eye patch looks dumb with that chicken ritual outfit of his..."
"That's the Punisher, Max."
"Um...yeah, Herman. Like I said. Come on, man, pay attention."
"Just...whoa," I said, shaking my head. "You captured the Punisher, he turned you down...and Reaper, you didn't just off him right then and there?"
"I decided to make him suffer," he responded. "Besides, bleeding him to death over three days, and bringing him back right afterwards...well, it's kind of poetic if you think about it."
After my jaw dropped for a few seconds, I decided it was time to sum up this entire situation in a very simple and succinct phase.
"You're fucking nuts."
"Hey, language," Max proclaimed.
"No. No, I stand by my statement! This...this is just too much, Eric..."
I like to think I had a great monologue planned, something to hit home and really cement the heroic stand I was about to make. 50,000 volts coursing through your neck tends to cut off your speech, though. I fell to my knees, my body convulsing as Electro's hand squeezed around my throat.
"Get his name right, Herman. The Grim Reaper. Show a little respect for once in your miserable life."
"Dillon, bring him here." Now both hands gripped me by the neck, and I was dragged along, my knees scraping across the stone floor. Electro dragged me to the Grim Reaper's feet, before moving to stand behind me. One hand still rested on my neck, with the voltage level pumping through me low enough to cause paralysis, but not enough to kill me. Towering over me, the Grim Reaper held his scythe out to one side, cutting a figure of despair as he spoke. "Herman, Herman, Herman. I've given you so many opportunities, not only to sit at the table after the Final Judgment, but to actually remain alive. To let you get a shot at the man who just poisoned you and left you to die. And you spit in my face, calling me insane?" The blade lifted into the air, curving slowly towards my neck. I tried to twitch away, but Electro's hand held me firm as the Reaper loomed. "Fine. You've made your decision. And I will respect it. You will die, Herman. But I promise, you will not come back as one of the living dead. Maybe, once your life has left your body, before your soul leaves this plane you'll have a change of heart. If so, I will be awaiting you with open arms to give you another chance. But for now, your life is forfeit, and all time after this is borrowed. Dillon."
"Yeah, boss?"
"It's time to go confront Osborn and feast upon the living. Your job is to remain here."
"Huh? But boss...ok, ok," Dillon backpedaled at the Reaper turned a red eye on him. "I got it. Someone needs to mind the store, and I'm the new guy. Want me to put Herman here out of his misery while you're gone?"
The Reaper's scythe hovered before my eyes for a moment. "No. Keep him alive. I want him to really ponder the finality of his decision. Torture him all you want, but ensure he remains with us in the land of the living. But above all else, keep an eye on Frank Castle. Make sure he doesn't try to interfere."
"Castle? Boss, we've bled him for the better part of a day. He's gotta be two quarts low by now."
"Which makes him all the more deadly." The Reaper looked down at me one more time. "Goodbye, Herman. Be seeing you." Death turned away from me, and walked towards the darkened pews. "Baron Mordo. Baroness Nerka. High Priest Talon. Baron Toomes. Baron Chondu. Baron Llan. It's time to begin the final rituals. Baron Mordo, is the Darkhold ready?"
"Yes, Master," a deep voice responded from the darkness.
"Good. Then let us adjourn to the appointed place and put forth our final plan. By this time tomorrow, New York will have fallen. And soon, the rest of the world."
I caught the shadowy figures rising from their pews before Electro spun me around. He leaned in close, his power still shooting through my nervous system. "Guess it's just you and me, Herman. It ain't so bad. All that chanting, that mystical mumbo-jumbo, the blood sacrifices...just ain't my thing. Any of it. But this..."
His hand squeezed my throat tightly, and an evil grin stretched across his scarred visage. "Just you and me, hanging out. And believe me, Herman, we're going to have...well, I'm gonna have...a lot of fun."