Polarity

by Chris Myers

When a Romero-style zombie outbreak hits, three supervillains, led by a long time loser, find themselves doing whatever it takes to save themselves, and eventually, the rest of humanity.

33. Hammer to Fall

"That's...a lot of zombies," I murmured.

"Aye," Boomerang said in agreement.

The edges of Central Park were lined with floodlights, illuminating the entire length of Fifth Avenue, which was packed with the living dead. We stood just behind the Fifth Avenue Subway station, well out of sight, but not a single zombie was glancing in our direction. Their entire focus, from the General Motors Building all the way up to Victorian Gardens, was on the barricades that ran the entire length of the thoroughfare. I had seen them in my dream a few nights ago. Thin, white barricades, the height of three men, that weighed like they were made out of plastic and could absorb as much force as a steel plate, they were the brainchild of the smartest man on the planet; Reed Richards. They were meant to be used as easily deployable crowd control, able to be set up at nearly a moment's notice. For riots, or massive public events, they were incredibly effective. Against a long row of a little more than a quarter of all the zombies in New York City, I don't think they were meant to wobble like that.

They crowded the sidewalk and about half the street, clawing at the barrier or pushing to get close to it. When the four of us had stepped outside of St Patrick's, the air had been filled with their moaning, a cacophony that echoed over all of Midtown, and I'm sure beyond. We hadn't seen a single zombie on our run from Rockefeller Center to this point, and now, we knew why. They were all here.

"This has to be the Reaper's doing," I said in a quiet voice. They probably couldn't hear us over their own moaning, but why take that chance? "Get all the zombies in one place and just hope they overwhelm the barricade at some point."

"No. They've been doing that since Osborn set up his rescue station. And look how spread out they are. He's laying siege to the whole Park." The Punisher had kept right up with us, never complaining, never asking us to slow down. It turns out someone had made a small cut behind his ear, just deep enough to let the blood flow freely. A little bit of rubber cement had sealed it right up, and since then, he had been the scary vigilante I knew and loathed. "There's gotta be more to it. Or else he wouldn't have been waiting for Baron Mordo to get the Darkhold."

"What does it do, this Darkhold," Fred asked.

"I don't know, Myers. It's probably some kind of magical WMD," the Punisher replied.

"In any case, we have to get inside and let Doctor Strange and Nick Fury know that the Grim Reaper's up to something. I'll grab the Punisher. Boomerang, you grab Shocker. Once we're over the walls, SHIELD's set up near the Reservoir..."

"No." Leave it to the damn Punisher to bring a logical, get-our-asses-relatively-safe plan to a screeching halt with one word. "You three get in there and warn Fury and Strange."

"Oh really," Boomerang said sarcastically. "And what the hell are you going to do, Punisher, shoot all the zombies for making a public disturbance?"

"Yeah, Myers. I guess you're not as dumb as you look." Punisher pointed up Fifth Avenue. "I got a cache of weapons and supplies up near the Arsenal on 66th. Since someone here took my knife, I'm pretty much useless."

"66th? That's six blocks. You know the second one of those zombies sees you, it's game over," I said. "You'll never make it by yourself."

"I'll be fine, Schultz. Your job is to get in there and stop the Reaper. Now, go on." The Punisher turned, and started across 60th street. He was moving, but now that he didn't have to keep up with us, his motions were a lot more deliberate.

"He can only handle two zombies, three max," Boomerang pointed out as the Punisher leaned on a parking meter for a moment. After a second, he shrugged. "But hey, if he's going to be an idiot, screw him. Come on, I'll carry Herman."

Boomerang was moving to grab me around the waist when I put a hand up. "You two go on. I'm gonna be his wingman."

With a sigh, my friend rubbed the bridge of his nose, like he was getting a headache. "Oh, bloody Christ, mate..."

"Fred, if you had a chance to bet that the Punisher could kill one hundred zombies in sixty seconds, you'd take it, right?"

"Well...yeah, but...if Castle wants to walk willingly into the Lion's Den, I'm not going to stop him. Hell, if matters weren't so pressing, I'd grab a beer and some popcorn to enjoy the bloody show."

"We need him. I know, I know, it's the guy who tried to kill me a bunch of times, but...I don't know, Fred. I really don't. But my gut's telling me to keep him safe, and damn it, my gut's gotten me this far."

Boomerang didn't try to change my mind at least. "Alright, at least let me go with you..."

"You'll only antagonize the man, Fred." Spider-Man motioned to the park across the street. "Herman, are you sure about this?"

"Not entirely...but hell, I've been lucky all week. Might as well see if the streak holds. Now, get in there." Before either one could respond, I was trotting across the street, towards where the Punisher was stumbling into an alleyway. I heard the whine of Fred's rocket boots igniting as I reached the end of the alley, barely audible over the sounds of the zombie horde.

There's a long list of really stupid stuff I've done. Fighting Spider-Man's on it a lot. Not banging Kelly Patterson in the tenth grade is on it. Calling the Gibbon an idiot is on it. And trying to kill the Trapster, especially in hindsight, is on it. Following the man who's tried to kill me three, technically four, has easily vaulted into the top ten. Here was a guy who was walking into certain death, a guy who had killed numerous villains, colleagues, and a few friends of mine, and had no convictions upon putting a bullet between my eyes. So why was I risking my life to make sure this guy lived? The firepower the Punisher had stocked away probably could arm a Third World nation, and I had watched him mow down a lot of zombies in Washington Square Park without breaking a sweat. All those bullets could only come in handy. And the grenades. And the Claymores. And the RPG's. You know he had to have them...

More than that, though. A year ago, Iron Man, Captain America, Reed Richards, Hank Pym, the Punisher, Ms. Marvel, the Sentry, and Spider-Man were at each other's throats over the Superhuman Registration Act. Now, though, in the face of mortal danger, they had all put their differences aside. And then, add that nearly the entire supervillain community has thrown its lot in with the heroes. Huh...the dead rising from the grave, human sacrifice, heroes and villains working together, and now mass hysteria with my deluded self trying to help the Punisher. Look, it boils down to this. Trust. Right now, Doctor Octopus is standing next to Hank Pym, Thunderball and Thor are making plans, and even Molecule Man and Reed Richards aren't killing each other. That has to stand for something, when the guy next to you has fought you tooth and nail for years, but knows when to put it aside when something bigger is at stake. They got it. Electro and the Vulture didn't. I was the one who apparently started this whole hero-villain massive team up in the first place...so I had my own example to live up to.

I spoke in a low, clear tone as I approached the Punisher, his hand on the brick wall of the alleyway for support and guidance. "Take your time, Castle. I got your back."

His head whipped around, causing me to freeze in place when I caught the look on his face. "Schultz, what are you doing?"

"Covering you. Now, keep going, we're on a bit of a time crunch here." I motioned with my gloves. "Two of us can get their faster than one of us if a ghoul pops up."

"I don't want your damn help, Schultz. Go play hero somewhere else."

"Look, you don't want my help. But you need it, Castle."

"No, I don't. Now, I have to watch my damn back for you trying to stab me in it."

"Who scares you more, Castle? Zombies or me?"

"Neither." But after a few seconds of staring, he lurched forward. "We're going to 66th, halfway between Madison and Fifth." I kept a good distance behind, my thumbs off the triggers, but my eyes scanning every nook and cranny. "There's a manhole cover in the street. My cache is down there, just underneath the Arsenal."

I wanted to ask him how the hell he was going to get a manhole cover off in his condition, but I kept my mouth shut. Don't poke the angry lion, Herman. "What do you have down there?"

"Rifles, submachine guns, bullets, grenades, and about ten pints of O Negative."

"Christ. Were you a Boy Scout when you were a kid?"

He didn't answer as we reached the end of the alleyway at 61st Street. I kept my mouth shut as we crept along the narrow path towards the towering buildings. The street was lit by the residual glow coming from the floodlights just inside Central Park, illuminating a scene right out of the "how to write an apocalypse" handbook. 5th Avenue and Madison had been cleared for the incoming flood of refugees, and in the process, the cross avenue we were darting across were free of wreckage. It was a tense experience, going from dark alleyways where the undead could be lurking in the shadows to darting across a well-lit street without any cover to conceal us if one of the zombies from Central Park happened to glance over its shoulder as we ran. And run we did. In the alleyway, the Punisher had leaned on the wall, stumbling with measured steps. Once we got to the end, though, I found myself having to almost to sprint to keep up with him. Anytime I tried to step in front of him in an attempt to take the lead, I was rewarded with a stern look as the vigilante pushed himself harder. I eventually hung back just so I didn't push him too hard. What the hell drove this guy? Being thrown through the air by Thor, captured by the Grim Reaper, trussed up and left to bleed out like a dead deer, suffering from blood loss that would have put anyone else into a damn coma, and this guy was still pushing himself to keep a faster pace than me. I wanted to ask him...but as I learned back in Washington Square, asking the Punisher questions isn't the wisest of moves.

The way I would have gone would have been back down to Madison Avenue, head up a few blocks, and turn down East 66th Street, which ended at the old New York Arsenal. But the Punisher headed right for a small park on the north side of 61st. I followed right behind him as we wove our way through the stone planters, stepping over a half-eaten body along the way. He took the lead, weaving us through small pathways, buildings under construction, and the lobby of a shopping galleria. That's where I was the most nervous. Shopping malls should never be empty. Every step I took, my metal boots clicking off of the granite floor, I expected a horde of zombies to come flooding out of the shops after us. We made it through the mall without a problem, though, coming out onto East 66th Street. Following the Punisher's lead, I crouched behind a panel truck, listening to him speak as I kept a wary eye on the mall's entrance. Just in case.

"There's a manhole about fifty meters from the end of the street," he said. "If you want to be useful, Schultz, you can do the heavy lifting and head down first. You still got night-vision in your mask?"

"Yeah..." I touched my mask, and the dark street became green-and-white for a moment. "Still works," I told him as I turned it back off.

He acknowledged via grunt, and turned to head out. I was following him before he suddenly spun back, motioning with a hand for me to come to a sudden stop. I immediately froze. "Wh..." That was all I got out before he slashed at the air with his hand to silence me. Carefully, the Punisher crouched down to the ground, his back flush against the panel truck. I kept an eye out behind us as, slowly, he eased his head out around the corner of the truck's rear bumper. After a few moments, he pulled back, and looked up at me. "Problem. There's someone standing near the manhole."

"Zombie?"

"Not quite. Take a look...carefully," he said, emphasizing the last word. I leaned over him, one hand on the truck for balance, and peered out. The...problem...in question was easily visible. At the end of the street, the horde still shoved and clawed, trying to get past the barricades into the park. Behind them, by maybe thirty yards, a pick-up truck was parked in the middle of the street, the only vehicle visible anywhere along this stretch of 66th. Standing in the bed of the pick-up, a figure raised his hands towards the horde, razors attached to the tips of the blue gloves he wore. He swayed slightly from side-to-side, his hands slowly moving in some sort of pattern. It was his outfit that gave his identity away, though. He called it "ceremonial robes of an ancient people." Everyone else called it "the chicken suit."

"Black Talon." I pulled back behind the panel truck, shaking my head. Last I had heard, the former voodoo priest had quit the black magic racket and was selling magically enhanced cocaine for the Hood's syndicate. Guess the Reaper's offer pulled him right back in. "I'd recognize that stupid costume of his anywhere."

"That truck's parked right in front of the manhole." The Punisher was leaning out again, studying the street. "There's no way we can sneak down there. Even if we closed the distance, he's going to hear you moving the cover off."

"Can't we just go to another manhole? There's plenty of sewer lines that feed into Central Park."

"The tunnel's sealed at both ends," he responded. "One entrance is in Central Park. The other's right there. ConEd decommissioned the tunnel back in the 80's and never got around to paving over the manholes."

"Hell, I could blow through any barricades ConEd put up in my sleep." I stuck my head out again, doing my best to minimize my sight profile. "Is he controlling all those zombies?"

"It's his MO. Nekra stole some rites from Black Talon and used them to bring the Grim Reaper back to life. Twice."

"How the hell did you know that, Punisher?"

"The same way I know you've been in psychoanalysis for the past two years for low-self esteem issues. Now, be quiet."

"How..."

"Quiet," he growled. The moaning of the zombies drowned out any other ambient sounds the abandoned city made as the Punisher studied the situation in front of him. I wanted to chime in with the fact that, hey, I had gloves that could blow through walls and that any barricade ConEd put up to seal a tunnel would have been constructed by bored union guys looking to finish the damn job and get out of the sewers as quickly as possible. No muss, no fuss, and avoiding any confrontation with a villain who raises the dead for a living.

Yeah...this is the Punisher. There's no way he'd pass up a chance to take a shot at a bad guy, especially a bad guy whose MO is directly tied to the impending apocalypse. And for once, I was right there with the Punisher's thought process. Spider-Man did it to the Sinister Six all the time. Isolate one member, beat him into submission, and the Sinister Six became the Sinister Five. Black Talon was part of the Reaper's crew, and if we could drop him, it could only be a good thing.

"We're going to take him out, Schultz." I nodded at the Punisher's statement, and he gave me the slightest nod in return. "You're going to be the distraction and give me time to get in position."

"Distraction...in other words, bait." Exposing myself completely and utterly on the street without any cover, waving my hands and yelling "hey, bad guy, here I am?" Hell, that's how I got involved in this whole situation a week ago. Why mess with success? I leaned out from behind the truck one last time. "You need him looking a certain way?"

"Not at me. Just hold his attention, Schultz. Don't try to be a hero."

"Who, me?" I slid around the Punisher, carefully easing my way out from behind the panel truck. The street was wide open, without a single wrecked car to provide me any sort of cover. Alright. I could crouch along, trying to get as close as I could before being noticed. Or...I could go on the belief that the moans of the zombies would cover any noise I made and I could just walk down the middle of the damn street. Hell, being brazen and brash would probably grab Black Talon's attention more than me trying to be sneaky.

I had to wonder what the Punisher was thinking as I just strode down the center of East 66th like an Old West gunfighter. Each step brought me closer to Black Talon, and to the horde of zombies that craved the flesh inside Central Park. No pressure, though. No fear. That was the weird part. Zombies in front of me, the Punisher behind me, Black Talon in my sights, and here it was. That power walk I mentioned earlier, the stuff that guys like Bullseye or Iron Man pulled off unconsciously. It was creeping into my stride, hands slightly out from my hips, eyes straight ahead, shoulders squared with Black Talon. My eyes moved from side-to-side, keeping an eye out for any stray zombies, as well as trying to catch a glimpse of the Punisher. No head movements, though, to try and see him. My focus was on Black Talon and him alone.

The comms in my head were still disabled. Trapster had done too good a job. But I still had the visual and audio enhancers. As I got closer, and the soul scraping groans of the zombies became more prevalent, I did my best to electronically wash out the sound. I had heard it enough during the past few days, and my nightmares could only take so much more audio input. As the moans were muted, I picked up a new sound, one that had been drowned out by the cries of the living dead. As I approached Black Talon, it became obvious that the voodoo priest was chanting. In French. If hours of late night bad B-movies on public access taught me anything, chanting in another language, mixed with the repeated hand gestures, was usually a sign of some kind of magic ritual. Magic rituals, especially tonight, are not good.

His head never turned as I reached the pick-up truck. I stood ten feet from the rear of the vehicle, point-blank range for my vibro-smashers. Black Talon must have been engrossed with the spell he was weaving...or I wasn't a threat to him. Well, if so, that was about to change for damn sure.

"Talon!"

That was my attempt "you're going to turn around and look at me" voice, like the kind Thor uses a lot. When he didn't glance back at me, I cleared my throat and added a little more bass to my voice. "Talon! Yeah, you on the back of the pick-up truck!"

Nothing.

Oh, come on. I raised my hand, and cuffed him across the back of his head with a level-one blast. "Yo, Talon! I'm talking to you!"

The chanting stopped. And the foreboding began as he slowly lowered his hands. "Well. Looks like Electro couldn't handle the job." He turned around, milking the moment for everything like the part-time cult leader he sometimes was. "And now, I get to finish you off. I'm sure the Grim Reaper will reward me for succeeding where Electro failed."

I tried. I really did. But let's be honest. Here was a guy who could raise the dead, talk to spirits, and worked with black magic on a daily basis. I'm pretty sure, if he had a sample of my hair, Black Talon could probably explode my heart like a baked potato. But dear God in Heaven (if he's paying attention), the man could NOT have picked a stupider costume, and I used to hang out with the Porcupine. A blue cape that flowed into long sleeves like a bird's wings, yellow boots that looked like claws, yellow gloves that looked like claws, and a red plume on his head. Now, add to it that his costume has no chest, and the guy looks like one of the Birds of War from the wrestling episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," and I'm sorry, but there's no way in hell I can take him seriously. The Grim Reaper looks scary. The Punisher has a skull right there on his chest. Black Talon has plumage. Even the Vulture didn't really have plumage.

Ok, ok, Herman, focus. Don't underestimate the bad guy. Do your job, keep him distracted.

(Oh, and here's another reason to be pissed at the Grim Reaper. I actually PRE-ORDERED a copy of the Christmas episode of "It's Always Sunny." A legitimate order with an actual credit card. I'm going to really be ticked if I miss out on it. I imagine a couple of people on the Internet, if they're still alive, are bitching "the end of the world better not interfere with the final season of 'Fringe!'")

"What can I say, Talon? Max tried, but he chickened out."

Aw, damn it, was that a chicken joke?

One eye was covered by a black eye patch. His other eye was a swirling ball of red, narrowing slightly at my joke. "Seriously? I always knew you were book smart, Shocker, but the chicken jokes have been done to death."

"I know, I know," I replied. "It's a fowl offense...damn it, ok, that one just slipped out, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My mind's just fried...whoa, Talon, I didn't mean...this whole week's just been one big cock up."

I had Spider-Man Syndrome. One bad pun turned into a hurricane of them. The good news? I had Black Talon's full attention. Nothing gets a bad guy's attention like taunting him. The bad news? I had Black Talon's full attention. Nothing gets a bad guy's attention like taunting him.

"You have no idea what you are in for, Herman." The priest took one step forward, causing me to raise one of my gauntlets in response. "The rituals have begun. And once the witching hour hits, and everything's in conju...

*BLAM!*

The eye patch disintegrated as the back of Talon's head exploded. The rear window of the pick-up was splattered with brain matter mixed with a delightful garnish of red blood. His remaining eye didn't even have time to go wide with surprise as Talon's head rocked backwards for a moment, before his body fell forward, collapsing face-first in an unmoving heap in the truck's bed.

I knew what I'd see even as I turned around. The .44 Magnum smoked in the Punisher's hand as he walked up behind me. "Jesus, Castle! Warn a guy next time!"

"Element of surprise," he growled, peering into the back of the truck as Talon's unmoving body. "He didn't see it coming."

"Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway! Did you pull it out of your ass?"

"Stashed in a UPS box a few days ago, in case of emergencies." He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"In case of...what if some kid found it!"

"If a little kid is trying to squeeze into a mailbox, he's probably got bigger problems than finding a loaded gun. It might actually save his life."

The zombie horde didn't seem to notice a large caliber handgun firing behind them. A sound that was like ringing the dinner bell didn't pull any extra attention. "Well...as much as I disagree with you on gun safety..."

And I wasn't going to argue the fact that I had just seen the Punisher kill a guy in cold blood, right in front of me. That would be like arguing with Doctor Doom about his megalomania.

"...let's just get the hell underground."

The Punisher motioned to the manhole cover. "Get it open, Schultz. I'll cover the ugh."

Cover the 'ugh?' I was about to ask him what the hell an 'ugh' was when I saw him stumble forward a step or two away from the pick-up truck. The 'ugh' had come from the steel claws of the end of Black Talon's glove slashing the Punisher across the back. The vigilante spun around, letting me see the cuts in the Kevlar armor he wore stretching across his shoulder. Nothing deep, thankfully, but let's not forget that a dead man had slashed him in the first place.

"You shot me before, Castle, and the Grim Reaper made sure I got back up." Talon slithered from the back of the pick-up, swinging around to land on his feet as he jumped down to the pavement. The illumination from the floodlights shone through the hole behind his ruined eye patch, covering part of his face in shadow. "What makes you think this time would be any different?"

"I've got..."

*BLAM!*

"...more bullets."

*BLAM*

"And a bigger gun."

*BLAM* *BLAM*

The gunshots right next to my ear sounded like the fist of an angry god. Four bullets slammed into the muscular chest of Black Talon, blood spurting from each impact. And the bastard just stood there, doing nothing more than shaking slightly as each round hit home. The echo of the final gunshot was mixed in with the booming laughter that came, mockingly, from the voodoo priest. "A valiant try, Castle, but bullets don't..."

*BLAM*

Talon's head rocked backwards as the .44 roared for a final time. His remaining eye vanished under the hailstone of gunfire. His skull, already weakened from the first gunshot, exploded from the back, sending what bits of brain matter were left in his cranial cavity flying into the air. It was like staring into the Lincoln Tunnel, light shining through two bored holes. There was no chance in hell Black Talon had any reasoning capacity left, because he couldn't have had a brain left...

The laughter from the voodoo priest was impossible. He had no eyes. He had no brain. I could SEE Central Park behind him. But there he was, crossing his arms across the bullet wounds on his chest. "Destroying the brain won't work on me, Castle. I'm not one of the normal living dead. I'm something special. Something evolved."

"Schultz, get the manhole cover." The Punisher shoved the gun into one of his side holsters, and then threw himself at Black Talon. For a split second, I was stunned. He shouldn't be walking, he just emptied six bullets into a hardly-fazed Black Talon, and now he just barely ducked underneath a wicked swipe from the bad guy.

"SCHULTZ, THE DAMN COVER!"

Immediately, I dropped down to one knee. My fingers traced the edge of the cover where it was flush against the rest of the street, trying to find a notch to slip my hand underneath and get some leverage. The Punisher used a hand to parry one of Black Talon's punches...but then he stumbled back, wincing, as Talon lashed out with his clawed boot, raking Castle across the thigh.

Damn it. The manhole cover was too snug in place and my fingers couldn't fit. I needed some kind of prybar...or I could just blow the thing open. I made a fist, placing the thumb on the trigger of my weapon, and punched at the edge of the manhole as I fired.

"Crap!" I had to dodge out of the way as the round piece of metal flipped into the air. It sounded like a gunshot as it clanged off the pavement, clattering a few times before coming to a halt. Alright, I had done what the Punisher asked. Now all we had to do was get the hell away from Black Talon. This was going to be difficult, because right now, Black Talon was getting the upper hand. He had the Punisher on the defensive, swiping and picking away at the vigilante. And Castle wasn't in the "let me sucker you in" defensive mode; this was the "I need a miracle to get out of this" defensive mode. As soon as he parried or ducked a blow from Black Talon, another one was right there. He wasn't getting a chance to rest, to think.

"Talon's going to kill him," I mumbled.

With a shrill cry of triumph, Talon's foot slammed against the Punisher's ankle, sweeping the leg out from underneath the vigilante. The Punisher was trying to roll away even as he landed on the asphalt, but a swift kick from Black Talon to his ribs stopped that motion. Talon dropped to one knee, straddling Castle. He grabbed Castle's face with one hand, and yanked it off the ground. "You took both my eyes. Luckily, I don't need them anymore. You, though..." One talon slowly sliced up the side of Castle's cheek, barely avoiding breaking the skin. "...well, let's see if you can function with only one eye, Castle..."

"Hey, Talon!" I stood behind him, towering over where he was crouched. "You said you're a different kind of zombie, right?"

He half-turned to 'look' at me, a smile forming on his ruined face. "Oh yes, Herman. Death's been very good to me."

"Good. Then I can do this without worry."

I brought the manhole cover down on his skull with both hands.

It was like slamming a watermelon with a sledgehammer. What was left of Black Talon's head cracked under the weight of the attack. Bone shards splintered as the skin and muscle surrounding the skull collapsed, turning into a spray of red that radiated 360 degrees. The front of my armor got a large amount of blood splashed across the torso, the impact setting off the contact panels. I let go of the cover, taking a step backwards from the body. Black Talon's corpse was still in a kneeling position, with the manhole cover balancing on his shoulder blades, wobbling slightly as gravity slowly began to work its magic. The Punisher pulled himself away as the headless priest's body leaned forward, falling slowly like a tree after the lumberjacks had finished with it. The cover slid off, banging onto the street, followed by Black Talon's lifeless corpse bouncing onto the pavement next to it.

"Hurk..."

I barely got my mask off before I threw up. Doubled over on the street, the last meal I had eaten in the warehouse splattered off of the pavement, and my body kept trying to heave up anything else in my GI tract. I had seen some nasty stuff in my time as a villain, but turning someone's brains into tomato paste was a new one.

"Schultz." I felt a hand pull me back into an upright position. The Kevlar on the Punisher's chest glistened as blood dripped from small cuts in the material, and he started at me with those dead, neutral eyes. "You've been blasting zombies for a week. This isn't any different."

I wiped at my mouth, sticking my tongue out to try to get the bile taste out of my mouth. "Jesus, Castle, that..."

"He was dead," the Punisher interrupted me. "Dead. You didn't kill a human being, you put down a corpse. I killed him last night. You just finished it off. Now, pull it together and get down in the sewer. I'll..." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "You hear something?"

I did. It sounded like a little bit of gravel falling on a tin roof. "Whatever it is, Castle, it can't be good. Let's get the hell..."

Pause.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

One of Black Talon's teeth was bouncing across the pavement. It would bounce an inch or two, come to a stop, and then roll over to move a little further. I watched, spellbound, as the tooth rolled into a small red puddle, and stop in an upright position. Immediately, it was followed by a second tooth, and a shard of bone. The red puddle slowly flowed upwards, leeching its way around the teeth, and solidifying into something resembling gums.

"We gotta go," I muttered as the combination of teeth, gum, and bone began to roll towards the neck of Black Talon's body. All across the pavement, the goo that had been his head was moving as well, all pulling towards each other and reforming into part of his head even as they rolled. "That's just not right..."

"Into the sewer, Schultz. Go." The Punisher urged me on, and I followed his direction, heading right for the opening in the street. I could handle heads exploding. It was the putting them back together that scratched at the subconscious part of my mind. Pulling my mask back on, I clicked on my night vision goggles as I peered into the hole. Nothing moved below but the gentle trickle of water. Made sense, since there was an entire city not using toilets or sinks right now. I carefully climbed down, using the rungs set in the side of the tunnel. The Punisher had picked well. The tunnel must have been a "sewer main," just tall enough to stand in and just wide enough for two people to walk sort-of-side-by-soft-of-side. A quick check up and down showed nothing moving towards me.

A pair of boots landed beside me. "End of the tunnel, Schultz," the Punisher said gruffly, "all the way to the wall. And move it. Black Talon's got his jaw back now."

As I moved forward, I asked "want me to keep an eye on the manhole in case he tries to come down here?"

"No. Just get us to the damn wall." Our boots made quiet splashes in the water as we double-timed it, maybe twenty or thirty yards from where we had slid into the sewer. Above us, the moans and shuffling of the packed zombie horde against the Central Park barricades was muffled by the layer of asphalt and pipes above our heads. We reached the end of the tunnel, and my night-vision revealed it to be a simple brick wall, stacked on top of each other and sealed with mortar, a barricade I could easily have blasted through. The Punisher pushed past me, and after a second, pushed one of the bricks. It sank into the wall, and quietly, the right section of the wall swung open. "Go on, and watch your step. There's a bear trap on the ground, and the teeth...are smeared with something."

Oh yeah, I watched my step. I had to squeeze through the opening, my eyes on the ground. In low-light vision, the cold metal of the trap appeared even more wicked. A big step took me over the trap as the Punisher stepped behind me. The wall clicked back into place as the Punisher stepped around the trap. Behind the barricade, the tunnel stretched out a little further before ending in a series of iron bars as the floor sloped downward out of sight. To the side of the iron bars, a metal door was set into the wall, and a padlock, the kind ConEd uses to lock maintenance doors, held it shut.

"Shouldn't we be worried about Black Talon," I said in a low voice.

"Black Talon should be worried about me." The Punisher was running his hand along a pipe high on the wall. His shoulder stretched, putting pressure on the cuts as he grunted. "Damn it. I know it's up here..."

Under my mask, for the first time in days, I felt a genuine smile creep across my face. "I got this, Punisher." I stepped past him, looking down at the lock. Child's play. I opened a compartment on my belt, pulling out one of my trusty lockpicks. Five seconds later, the lock popped open. That felt good.

"Huh," the Punisher said as I put the lockpick back. He stepped past me, and opened up the door. "Tripwire, chest high. Watch it."

I followed him inside, closing the door behind us and ducking where he ducked to walk underneath a taut wire stretched across the short entryway. I was standing back up when, with a flick of his wrist, the Punisher snapped the light switch. As the small room lit up, I gave off a low whistle. "Damn, Castle. You don't mess around."

Guns. Lots of guns. Hanging on the walls, stacked in crates on the ground, lying on workbenches. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns, submachine guns, rifles, assault rifles. Grenades, fragmentation mines, flashbangs, and a couple of gallon jugs filled with some sort of clear jelly. "What the hell were you doing, planning to fight a war?"

He had hobbled to a refrigerator humming away in the corner. "I was going after a slaver ring when the dead started rising. I don't like slavers, Herman."

"I can tell," I muttered, nodding in agreement. "Alright. So what do we do now?"

"We aren't going to do anything." Castle was pulling plastic bags from the fridge as he spoke. "You are going out the back door. Follow the tunnel and it'll bring you out by the Dene Shelter. Head north and you should run into someone who'll take you to Colonel Fury. Between you, Spider-Man, and Myers, he should have some kind of plan to deal with the Grim Reaper."

"Yeah...and what the hell are you going to do?"

He spilled the plastic bags onto a workbench...four flat bags of red plasma. "I'm gonna refill and set a trap for Black Talon. Then I'll follow you. Don't try to argue with me, Schultz. You have to get to Fury, and I'm still thinking of ways to kill you."

There's motivation for you. "Alright, I'm going." He was pulling rubbing tubing out of a black fabric bag, and I was heading for the rear door to the arsenal under the Arsenal, when I realized...I had to ask.

"Castle, the Grim Reaper offered me power and survival to work for him. What the hell did he offer you?"

The silence made me regret asking the question. I shrugged it off, and was opening the back door when the Punisher answered. "I had just pulled myself out of the Hudson when Reaper showed up. I was lying on the pavement, trying to catch my breath when he landed. Offered me a chance to work with him. Said he'd give me power, lots of it, so I could take out everyone. You. Osborn. Wittman. Mercer. Doom. Lehnsherr. Someone made a deal like that once. Wanted me to be their mystical hitman. Didn't take that offer. Sure as hell not going to take Reaper's. Close the door behind you, Schultz."

Before I did, I saw the Punisher, having tied off his arm with rubber tubing, setting up an IV stand right next to the .50 caliber machine gun that was emplaced on the center workbench.

So there I was. Central Park, at last. The back tunnel out of the Punisher's storeroom had wound its way north, ending at a storm drain, with a tall ladder sunken into the wall. It took a bit of shoving to open the hatch at the top of the ladder before I climbed out into the open air.

The Dene was a long stretch of rolling hills abutting Fifth Avenue. Being slightly elevated, I could make out the top of the floodlights through the red-and-orange leaves that stubbornly clung to the branches. The moans were much more audible here in the Park, greeting me as soon as I climbed out of the sewer. Next to the tunnel, a tall stone outcropping, Kid's Rock (no, not the singer) acted as a landmark. Just beyond that, sitting on top of a steep hill, Dene Shelter, a rustic wooden shelter, would have provided me with a great view of the army of living dead besieging the Park. But right now, that wasn't what interested me. I turned to the north, immediately picking out the well-lit walkways and bike paths that wound through the Dene. The grass was dry as I worked my way down from the hill, intent on heading north, towards the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir, and hopefully Spider-Man and Boomerang...along with damn near everyone else who had crammed into this oasis in the middle of Manhattan. I could make out the huge lights that shone from tall towers down along the Reservoir, and could imagine throngs of panicked citizens huddled together, with the Avengers and countless supervillains working with SHIELD to keep order.

They must have been keeping everyone close, because I didn't see a soul for about five minutes. After a couple of days of zombies, panicked civilians, warehouse co-habitators, and people trying to kill me, being all alone, my feet pounding the pavement with only the sounds of the living dead pressing at the barricades...well, it was a bit unnerving. Maybe this was what being the last man on Earth was like. Just me and the groans of zombies. The further I headed into the park, though, the quieter and less audible the moans became...which kind of made it worse, increasing my sense of loneliness even as the scraping on my ears went away.

I was leaving the Dene, passing Loeb Boathouse with Belvedere Castle looming in the distance, backlit by the powerful flood lights, when I saw them. Two figures, walking side-by-side, wearing NYPD uniforms with Kevlar vests over their chests. They both had on riot helmets, with sub-machine guns slung over their shoulders. They had just turned away from me, back towards the Reservoir, when I put my hands to my sides, pointing my gloves away from them. "Hey! Hey, officers!"

I can't believe I was actually calling out to police officers. I did my best to assume a non-threatening posture, keeping my gloves pointing towards the ground, as they both spun to face me. "Holy crap," one of them blurted out, "it's the Shocker! It's the damn Shocker! I can't believe we got him!"

Pride was swelling in my chest as I nodded. "Yeah, it's me. I just didn't want to startle you guys," I said as I started to lower my hands...

"Keep your damn hands up, Schultz!" The second cop suddenly had his sub-machine gun pointed at me, having unslung it and aimed it in one well-trained swoop. "Don't you move!"

My hands immediately shot back up into the air. "Whoa, whoa! What the hell...I come in peace!"

"You so much as twitch and you're gonna leave in pieces! Jones, call this one in."

"On it." Officer Jones pushed the button on his two-way radio as I kept my hands in the air. "Unit 342, calling Command, come in."

"Go ahead, Unit 342."

"We've got Subject Delta in custody, just north of the Dene. Request backup to bring him in."

"Unit 342, copy. We're dispatching two units as backup. Treat subject as armed and dangerous."

"Command, copy. Out." Jones unslung his weapon as well, both cops now keeping be covered. I couldn't make out their facial expressions under their helmets, but from their body language, it wouldn't take much for the two of them to perforate me.

"Can someone explain..."

"Shut it, Schultz," the nameless officer growled.

"Damn it, tell me what the hell's going..."

"I said, SHUT it, Schultz. We know what you're up to. And you're going down for it."

X

"Listen to me, damn it, I didn't do anything! I swear!"

Officer Jones, firmly gripping my shoulder, shoved me into the small room. "You just sit tight. Someone will be along to take care of you."

"Damn it, listen to me! LISTEN TO ME!" The officer didn't even react to my plea as he turned to walk out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I heard the lock engage, and then the footsteps of the officer's footsteps as he walked away. Immediately, I was crouched next to the door, my fingers tracing the outline of the lock.

Within minutes of the officers calling in my apprehension, four NYPD cops and two SHIELD soldiers had shown up. Under the guns of that much firepower, I surrendered my vibro-smashers and my belt, including my lockpicks, before being marched towards the Reservoir, surrounded on all sides by the authorities. Not one of them would tell me what I had been accused of, and my questions had been answered with harsh glares. Oh, I knew those glares well. They were of the "if this was a dark alleyway, you wouldn't be walking out alive" variety, the looks that would make even the most hardened criminal respectful of the power of the badge. Moving quickly, they escorted towards the massive refugee camp in the center of Central Park. The tall tower lights shone down upon the camp which had been set up on the Great Lawn, beginning just before 79th Street. A long line of barricades, about four feet high, marked the lower boundary. As the guards escorted me through an entrance checkpoint at 79th and East Drive, I finally got my first look at the refugee camp that had been the focus of rescue activity and zombie eradication for the past week.

To say the camp was crowded was the understatement of the year. The first refugees I saw were huddled just beyond the barricades, giving the guards enough room to walk a patrol. A young girl, no older than the girl I had pulled from that apartment building, was clutching a teddy bear, while her father sat on the ground, holding her close and stroking her hair. Not three feet away, a group of Asians, varying in age, sat in a circle, talking quietly. Then, a young Hispanic man was stretched out on the ground, snoring quietly. All races, all creeds, all socio-economic levels...they were all crammed into this rescue station. Right here, this is what I wanted to avoid the second Osborn proclaimed his executive order a week ago. Don't get me wrong, being surrounded by the NYPD, SHIELD, and member of the US Armed Forces ain't anything to sneeze at. But the conditions...from what I could make out as I was whisked through, I saw outhouses set up in various areas, and there were medical pavilions scattered here and there, and the guards were keeping order. The government had learned from Hurricane Katrina and the Hulk's rampage which had forced evacuation of New York City last summer. The camp was set up in an orderly fashion and aside from there being almost no elbow room, things didn't look any worse than if a free concert was being held on the Great Lawn. My concern was this. No way out. If a horde of the undead suddenly busted through the barriers, the citizens had nowhere to run. Friendly fire was bound to happen. And, more importantly, there wasn't a single superpowered being helping walk the line.

The eight officers escorting me closed ranks, blocking my view. They were packed around me so tight that anyone on the outside couldn't have caught a glimpse of me. I wondered what they would of thought if they had seen me, the hero of the hour, being frog-marched like the common criminal I used to be.

The officers brought me to a temporary field holding facility, a double-wide trailer set up just on the edge of the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir. Six of them had taken up positions at the front door while Officer Jones, and a SHIELD soldier brought me to the interrogation. Ok. They had taken my lockpicks, but once upon I time, I could pick a lock without using anything but my ears and my bare hands. Besides, it was a government lock, designed and installed by the contractor putting in the lowest bid...

The door swung open before I could get started. I immediately jolted to my feet, taking in the blue-and-white SHIELD officer in front of me. "Look, listen..."

"Sit down," the officer growled.

"Damn it, listen..."

"I said," the officer replied, shoving me backwards, "sit down!"

"Look, will someone JUST listen to me, god damn it! I didn't do anything!"

"I know that, you idiot! And if you were half as smart as everyone says you are, Schultz, you would have realized we planted that god damn story for your own protection! If you came waltzing up here by yourself, without armed guards, Osborn would have made sure you didn't make it twenty feet before some cop on his payroll blew you away!" Colonel Nick Fury slammed the door shut behind him, stepping into the cell and jamming his finger at the chair. "Now sit down and start talking!" Nick Fury. World War II hero. SHIELD commander for damn near my entire life. And currently, chomping on a cigar and giving me more attitude with one eye than the Sinister Twelve could muster on their best day. "Where the hell are Spider-Man and Boomerang? I sent them out after you over an hour ago!"

"They should have been back by now! I don't know where they are!"

"Well, then let's talk about what you do know, Schultz." Fury sat down on one of the chairs, and motioned for me to sit in the one on the other side of the table. "Let's start with the Chameleon, and why he was impersonating you."

"Colonel," I said after taking my seat, "right now, that's small potatoes. There's something a lot bigger..."

"A helicopter sent to retrieve you and the Rhino from your warehouse comes back without the Rhino, with the Chameleon pretending to be you, and Norman Osborn telling me the Punisher killed Systevich." Fury crossed his arms, glaring at me across the table. "If Norman Osborn's involved, that's the potatoes I'm interested in..."

Screw that. I wasn't going to be the guy who knew what was going on that no one believed. "I know why the dead are coming back to life," I blurted out, "and who's behind it."

Fury's eyebrow went up a quarter of an inch at that statement. "Is it Norman Osborn?"

"No...kinda. It's his fault in a roundabout way."

He pursed his lips around his cigar. "Alright, Schultz. I'm in the mood for you to explain how you know what our scientists don't. Humor me."

"It's the Grim Reaper. He's working for some cosmic big wig, named Dormammu. And it's all because the Reaper had a vision Norman Osborn was going to kill him." That got me another quarter inch. I just started spilling everything, talking faster than I ever had in my life. From the rooftop attack that saw Rhino dead, to the helicopter ride with Osborn, Chameleon, and Trapster, to Electro and the Vulture, to my rescue at the hands of Boomerang and Spider-Man, and ending with my encounter with Black Talon and escape into Central Park.

"I know this sounds insane," I concluded.

"You're telling me," Fury groused.

"But it's true. All of it. Unless I'm dreaming, and right now, I kind of want to be."

Fury was still giving me that look, but it had gotten less intense over the course of my tale. Keeping his eye on me, he tapped his communicator. "Starluck, I want you to take a team and check out the Dene. I've got good intel that the Punisher's got a hideout down an access shaft near the Dene Shelter. If it's true, let's get him on our side. Don't screw around, either, I want you back here as quickly as possible when we start the evac, with or without Frank Castle."

"Moving at lightspeed, Colonel," came Starluck's voice over the device.

"Schultz, we're walking." Fury stood up, and I immediately followed him. The SHIELD guard outside the room saluted the Colonel as we headed outside. "Alright, so just to make absolutely sure I have this straight, this god, Dormammu, recruited the Grim Reaper to be his right-hand man because Williams had a vision Osborn was going to kill him. Reaper does what his boss tells him to, and by killing the Hood, the dead started coming back to life. And Osborn decides the best way to combat this is to use the citizens of New York City as bait to draw out the Reaper, but the Reaper's got himself an army of mojo slingers along with the Vulture and Electro, and to top it all off, Black Talon regenerated his entire skull and Spider-Man and Boomerang are missing."

We stepped outside into the night air as I nodded in agreement. "That's about it."

"You're right, Schultz. It is insane. But it's insane enough that Osborn's involvement makes it plausible." At the bottom of the small rise of steps leading up to the trailer, Fury barked out a name. "DANIELS!"

From the side, the female soldier who had escorted Nick Fury into the containment lab, live on national TV, trotted up to him, giving him a quick salute. "Sir!"

"Begin the evacuation procedures, Daniels. Get everyone to their places and get these civilians ready to move! I want people feet dry on Long Island within sixty seconds of Doctor Strange opening that portal!"

She didn't even waste time acknowledging the order, instead barking into her communicator. "Dunkirk! All SHIELD, military, and civilian units, Dunkirk! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!"

Immediately, SHIELD sprung into action. Along with the NYPD officers I could make out, they began marching, not running, which could instill panic, but moving quickly. I heard orders being shouted through bullhorns and saw equipment being packed up as Fury walked quickly through everything. I had to double-time it to keep pace with the old war dog as he made his way through the chaos. "Colonel, where the hell are my guys? The guys from the warehouse? I haven't seen one of them."

"Gone," Fury said without turning. "When Chameleon turned out to be masquerading as you, Osborn said it was proof that none of your buddies could be trusted, and ordered them all arrested."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction, without the high pitch. Something about how any of them could be a shape changer, like a Skrull. Which is utter horsehockey. When told me to go lock all your boys up and hold them, and I'm quoting, 'until the crisis has passed,' I gave them the option of getting the hell out of Dodge. And they all took it, every single villain we had on our side, from Aqueduct to Zemo. They all got the hell out of dodge."

I almost came to a shocked halt, but when you're following Nick Fury, he doesn't allow you that kind of time. So it was more of a mobile indignance. "What the hell was Osborn thinking? Not only is he passing on a lot of firepower, but brainpower too! Damn it...I gave them my word! I gave them Captain America's word, that they wouldn't be arrested!" I brushed past two SHIELD soldiers running the opposite direction along the walkway. I didn't even know where we were going, but when in doubt, follow the Colonel, who led the way with long strides. "There goes my street cred."

"If it means a damn to you, Schultz, I think most of them blame Osborn more than they blame you."
It did, somewhat. "Where the hell did they go?"

"We don't know. They stepped into some black hyperspace portal Molecule Man whipped up and just vanished."

"What about everyone else? The Fantastic Four, the Avengers?"

"Scattered. The Fantastic Four and Luke Cage are at the other end of the portal, and I got Hank Pym and Spider-Woman making one last sweep of the city. Rest of the Avengers are with Doctor Strange making sure nothing goes south."

"So where the hell are we going, Colonel?"

"We're going to confront Osborn," he said without stopping. We had reached the edge of the reservoir now. The black waters lapped calmly against the stone edges, a gentle sound as opposed to the buzz of activity going on around us. "It's simple, Schultz," he told me as we turned and started to walk to the west. "Osborn's always been a loon, but your story is the damn icing on the cake. Far as I'm concerned, I have enough evidence to make him resign his post and get someone sensible in there. He's gotten unstable the past twenty-four hours, and if all the work and danger SHIELD's put itself into has been just so he can engineer a showdown with the Grim Reaper, I'm gonna accept his resignation, and then punch him in the damn teeth."

The two SHIELD soldiers at the final checkpoint snapped to attention and saluted the Colonel as we approached. "As you were," he snapped as we passed between them. The checkpoint was a massive structure, the last point of authority before entering the high security checkpoint on the northwest quadrant of the Great Lawn. As opposed to the huddles masses of civilians elsewhere on the Lawn, this area was clear of anyone not in the employ of SHIELD. As we entered, soldiers were pounding stakes into the ground, using them to string guiding ropes.

"Doctor Strange is opening the portal to Long Island at 85th Street and the Traverse," Fury informed me as we headed towards the intersection. "Something about a crossroads being the perfect juncture for magic or some crap. Osborn is there supervising the efforts, which amounts to staying out of the way as Strange sets up the ritual."

"Right...so what the hell do we do once we get there? Just walk right up and confront Osborn?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah. Walk right up and punch him."

"Ain't gonna fly. Osborn ain't the only one watching Strange. There are a couple of Avengers there, and since Osborn's still in charge, they're watching his back. And Osborn's got your buddy Petruski as his bodyguard. You throw one punch and it's only a matter of who shoots you first, Iron Man or the Trapster."

If Fury was asking me to stay calm and cool, he had another thing coming. Ever since this whole mess started, it felt like control of my life was almost an illusion that more things happened TO me than BECAUSE of me. 'Herman Schultz, the wrong man in the wrong places at wrong times' would be a great tagline to a movie made about the past week. Each step I took just made my anger boil over a little bit more. Without my life wasn't being threatened, all I had really thought about since Fury and I had left that interrogation room was revenge. Revenge for trying to kill me. Revenge killing Aleksei. And on some level, revenge for turning Central Park into one big chum basket for the undead. Though maybe that one was just to provide another rationalization. Rationalizations make the world go around. Personally, I believe rationalizations are more important to humanity then sex. Don't believe me? Ask yourself this. When was the last time you went more than a week without making a rationalization?

The intersection of 85th Street and the Traverse wasn't barricaded or sealed off like the rest of the park. But it didn't need to be. The glowing, humming green circle hanging in mid-air, perpendicular to the ground, was security enough just by the "this is magic, DO NOT APPROACH" vibe. So, of course, Fury and I headed right for the circle. It was maybe fifteen feet in circumference, with an eerie green glow being emitted from the center. Golden runes hung in the air around it, pulsing slightly with the rising and falling hum. Think a Stargate from that Kurt Russell movie and you're dead on the money.

We could make out the figures standing around the circle as we approached. I'd mentioned before, way back in this tale, how sometimes, you couldn't help but be in awe of the heroes you meet, run in to, or interact with. Even if they're kicking your ass at the time, you can't help but respect or be impressed by their sheer presence. Right now, Fury was leading me into the heart of heroism, some of the greatest heroes on the face of the planet standing by, watching the way out from Central Park being formed in front of them. Heroes...and the man who tried to kill me, along with the former friend who had betrayed me to him.

In front of the soon-to-be-portal, waving his hands in the same sort of intricate pattern that Black Talon had utilized, stood the Sorcerer Supreme. Among the criminal community, his name was whispered, usually brought up in awe or reverence. You may or may not put much stock in magic and sorcery, but anyone who crossed paths with Doctor Strange came away with an understanding of the sheer power that the man commanded. The energy from the portal billowed the long cape he wore, and even though he wasn't speaking in a loud voice, you could decipher, just at the edge of your hearing, the chanting as he wove his spell.

I've already spoken about Captain America. He stood about thirty feet away from the portal, standing tall, almost at parade rest. His shield hung on his shoulders, his hands clasped behind the small of his back, watching the proceedings. And how many times have I mentioned Ms. Marvel, who stood, arms crossed across her chest, rocking that black-and-yellow spandex in late October? And, of course, the mighty Thor. Can't forget him.

Two other Avengers were nearby, observing Strange's ritual. A metal figure, yellow-and-re, and a muscular figure in red-and-black, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Iron Man, the leader of the Avengers. Simon Williams, also known as Wonder Man, Hollywood stunt man and the Grim Reaper's older brother. And next to Iron Man, head cocked to the side, rocking the three-piece suit, Norman Osborn stood tall, looking like he belonged with the proverbial gods. Behind him, keeping a nervous eye on the Avengers, the Trapster craned his neck.

"Now, remember Schultz," Fury told me as we made the final approach, "this is all about confronting Osborn. As much as you hate him, and have every right, you can't kill him. You can't hurt him. You can't TOUCH him."

"Got it," I said tightly.

"I'm dead serious. He's still in charge. He's got the Avengers on his side. Right now, he's the damn hero of the hour if Strange pulls this off."

"I know..."

"Schultz. Your word. Give me your word, right now, that you're not going to touch Osborn. No punches, no kicks, and no blasts."

"I promise, Colonel. I'm not going to lay a finger on Osborn, up close and personal or from a distance." And yeah, I meant it. Fury had a damn good point. Punching Osborn would have made me feel a LOT better. And at the edges of my rational mind, the thought of doing something much, much worse teased me. But there was something much more important at stake this time out. I just had to keep telling myself that with every step I took.

It was Ms. Marvel who noticed us first. She half-turned her head, noticing Colonel Fury...but did a double-take when she was my quilted form walking with him. "Shocker?"

And now, we had everyone's attention. They all turned to face us. The Avengers were staring at me, and I was walking right towards them. It was Osborn who looked the most non-plussed at my arrival. "Colonel Fury," Osborn said, the first one to speak as we finally arrived within the group, "why are you bringing this crim..."

I kept my word. I didn't lay a hand on Osborn.

However, I'm sure my punch broke the Trapster's jaw.

I fired a level-one just as I slammed my fist into his face. The poor bastard had looked so stunned to see me alive, he couldn't even get his hands up in time. I felt the impact through my armor, following through with my attack, driving with my shoulder, just like Aleksei had taught me. As I recovered, I could see Trapster almost complete a pirouette as he fell to the ground, spinning on one foot and landing on his side.

Almost immediately, I felt two pairs of hands grab my arms, before I could even enjoy the satisfaction of decking the bastard. Ms. Marvel and Wonder Man pulled me backwards, away from where Trapster was moaning on the ground, holding his chin with both hands. "Damn it, Schultz," Fury said with...well, fury in his quiet tone.

"I never said anything about Petruski." I tried to pull my arms away from the two Avengers, but they both held me tight, Wonder Man hurting me with his grip on my bicep.

"Colonel," Norman Osborn replied, not even glancing at Trapster as he was getting back to his feet, "I want that man arrested for assaulting an OsCorp employee."

Fury's response was to simply shift the cigar from one end of his mouth to the other. Osborn sighed as his bodyguard, bleeding from a split lip and bit tongue, tried to stand up straight next to him. "Fine. Well, then, Shocker, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company? You are aware you're crashing this party at a critical juncture. Doctor Strange is moments away from opening a gateway to transport the civilians here in Central Park to safety, and yet you show up and almost disrupt the proceedings with violence."

"You killed Aleksei, you..." I began, pulling at the two Avengers holding me.

"Osborn," Fury said, cutting me off sharply, "I had a very interesting chat with Schultz here. He's got a couple of things he'd like to say about what happened to the Rhino on that rooftop, and on the helicopter ride afterwards."

"Really," Osborn replied in a dismissive tone. "We really don't have time for bedtime stories, Colonel. Besides, Schultz is a known criminal...and for all I know, he's an imposter, just like the Chameleon earlier this evening. Anything this copy says is suspect at best. If you want to interrogate him, there's a trailer for that, isn't there?"

"There's more. I know..."

"Schultz." Fury simply shifted his one-eye to glare at me, and I got really quiet really fast. This was his turf, not mine. "Osborn, I think everyone here needs to listen to what Schultz has to say."

"Please." Osborn turned away, facing the glowing green circle again. "This is a waste of..."

"Hold up."

All eyes turned now to Captain America. The man who had picked up the legendary mantle and carried it with pride stepped forward, away from the group, towards me. "If Colonel Fury says we should listen to Schultz, than we should consider it." Osborn scoffed behind him as the blue-and-white Avenger studied me. I stiffened my spine, trying to stand upright. "But one question. How do we know this is the real Herman Schultz? That is a valid question..."

"The rooftop." I didn't think, just spoke. "We shook hands, and I acted like a little kid meeting Derek Jeter. It was you and Abner...MACH-IV...and you gave me your word that my friends, the bad guys, wouldn't face charges if they showed up here in Central Park. You even got Colonel Fury to put it in writing."

A nod from Captain America. "That's true." He turned back to look at his fellow Avengers. "We should listen to him, Iron Man."

"Oh, come on," Osborn said to no one in particular.

With the whir of electronic gyros, Iron Man stepped forward to stand next to me. He gave a nod to Ms. Marvel and Wonder Man. The two of them let go of me. I rubbed my arms as the armored warrior nicknamed 'Shellhead' faced me. "Alright, Herman," a robotic voice said. "Let's hear what you have to say."

I looked over at Colonel Fury, who nodded. "Just what you told me, Schultz. Leave nothing out."

I had to do it. I turned to look at Wonder Man, standing off to my right. "I know who's behind everything. I'm sorry, Simon...it's your brother, Eric. It's all his fault."

I didn't expect his reaction. Anger, depression, surprise...no, it was a resigned sigh from the big man, who looked at me with red eyes...not red like the pools of blood I had seen in others, but glowing softly from deep within his pupils. "No surprise. No one had seen him this past week, and zombies are part of his MO. Damn it..."

"Please. Zombies on a massive scale are well beyond the Grim Reaper's reach," Osborn scoffed.

I did my best to ignore Osborn. Hell, he wanted to know and draw out who was behind this. Careful what you wish for, Norman. "Well, the Reaper got an upgrade, Norman. He's got back up. Some guy named Dormammu."

THAT got a reaction from the Avengers. Thor stepped forward now, pushing past Iron Man. "Herman, are thou sure of that name?"

"Oh yeah. Trust me, Thor...I met the guy. After Osborn killed Aleksei and dumped me on the Lower East Side to die, I got picked up by some of the Reaper's crew and brought to St Patrick's Cathedral. Dormammu apparently gave Reaper the mojo to pull this trick off, and the Reaper just ran with it..."

"Shouldn't we be telling Strange this," Fury interjected. "He's gonna want to hear all about this guy."

"Strange told us not to interrupt him," Osborn replied. "And there will be plenty of time for lies and fabrication once the portal is open. That is our main goal right now. Once the civilians are safe, then we can hold this discussion."

"Hold on." This was Ms. Marvel, who was staring at Osborn with one eyebrow raised. "Schultz said you killed the Rhino. You have anything to say about that?"

"The Punisher killed him. I stand by my statement."

"Well, when my team brings Castle in, we'll just compare statements and see who's telling the truth," Fury countered. "They're on their way to grab him now."

"Huh. And who will you believe, Avengers, me, a fine upstanding citizen, or a crazed vigilante?" Osborn didn't wait for an answer, instead turning to the Trapster. "Wipe your mouth. You're bleeding."

"We're missing the point. Herman," Wonder Man said, "go back to the Grim Reaper. What's his involvement in all of this?"

I eyed Osborn as I laid out what the Grim Reaper had told me. "Apparently, Dormammu showed Reaper a vision of someone on Osborn's payroll shanking him in prison, and then Osborn going on to destroy the planet. Reaper decided to work for him and destroy the planet the way his boss wants him to, before Osborn can pull it off. He gathered a whole bunch of magic users to work for him...like Baron Mordo." Wonder Man nodded at the name as I continued. "And he's got a couple of other guys, like the Vulture and Electro on his payroll. They captured me and had Electro torture me, but Spider-Man and Boomerang rescued me. Not before I heard, though, that Mordo got his hands on something called the Darkhold that was the final piece of the puzzle. Oh...and they also rescued the Punisher, who had been captured before I was."

"I sent Boomerang and Spider-Man out to rescue Schultz once we found out the Chameleon was impersonating him," Fury added, "but neither of them are back yet. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Norman?"

"Hardly. I've been here making sure this plan goes through, Fury. Now, if you're done trying to pin anything onto me..."

"He killed Aleksei." I pointed a finger at him, causing Wonder Man and Ms. Marvel to tense up in case I attacked him. "The Trapster, Osborn, and Chameleon landed on my rooftop after Aleksei and I missed the last Quinjet out. Osborn used a shaped charge to blow a hole in Aleksei's rhino suit and the Trapster paralyzed me and dumped me on the street to die. This whole thing, this whole plan to move people into Central Park, was Osborn's attempt to centralize power and draw the guy behind all of this out...and the Grim Reaper's out there, putting his plan into motion."

Silence once I finished. After a few seconds, it was Iron Man who broke up. "Schultz, that's an incredible story. But...it's just your word. Cap believes you, and Fury believes you..."

"As do I," Thor added.

"Me too," said Ms. Marvel.

"...but we need proof."

"...I got nothing," I admitted to Iron Man. "I got nothing but my word."

"Which, as we all know from the past, is worthless." Osborn waved a hand in my direction. "You're nothing more than a common thug who decided to do the right thing for once, Schultz. That doesn't clean the slate of all the crimes you committed, Herman. One day as a lion does not balance out a lifetime as a jackal."

Under my mask, I raised an eyebrow. Oh, thank you for hubris. "You're right, Norman. Absolutely right. All the good things I've done don't matter a lick compared to the bad. You're the expert on that topic, aren't you, Green Goblin?"

If it wasn't for the persistent hum, you could have heard a pin drop. I think Ms. Marvel let out a low whistle at the comment. Osborn...I had him. His lip quivered, just for a second. And I drove it home.

"You've committed murder, acts of terrorism, property damage, embezzlement, and who knows what else? So we shouldn't pay one bit of attention to all your good works. Hell, someone here should be making a citizen's arrest, just in case all of this is part of some grand master plan. You know all about grand master plans, don't you? World ending plans?"

Osborn's eyes narrowed as he glared at me. That would have scared me once. This bastard killed my best friend in front of me while I was helpless.

I shouldn't be scared of him.

Norman Osborn should be scared of ME.

"Schultz, all you've done is run around, save a few citizens, and rally the forces of evil to do something positive for once with their lives. I've run the ENTIRE United States government when the Secretary of Homeland Security and the Vice President got eaten and the current President managed this crisis and was found wanting. I've directed the Initiative. I've rescued the population of New York City, as soon as that portal opens. I'm going to save what's left of America. I've taken government resources and done the impossible. You just got lucky. Once the citizens have been evacuated to Long Island, I will command Nick Fury and the Avengers, along with Doctor Strange, to look into the possibility that the Grim Reaper and this Dormammu are responsible for this epidemic. Until then, Colonel Fury, under the authority invested in me as a law-enforcement authority, I demand you arrest Herman Schultz and hold him in custody until such time as this current crisis can pass."

Osborn smirked at me, and Trapster did his best to smile through a broken jaw, as Fury studied me. "You know, Osborn," the Colonel said as he pulled the burned-to-the-stub cigar out of his mouth, "I left my badge in my other uniform. Try asking one of the Avengers."

Captain America gave a half-hearted shrug towards the former CEO. "Mr. Osborn, the Avengers are not authorized to make direct arrests, and I don't think we can spare any NYPD members with Operation Dunkirk currently underway."

Knowing Captain America had my back made my balls a little brassier. "Hey, Peter, tell you what," I told the Trapster. "You can arrest me if you got the stones."

"No one's arresting anyone," Fury said. "We're going to get this people out of here. That's priority number one. Priority number two is going to be trying to track down the Grim Reaper. As soon as I can spare some people, that's what SHIELD's going to be doing. Schultz," he snapped at me, "you don't leave my side. If you have to take a leak, I'm..."

"Gentlemen and lady."

The smooth, confident voice cut off Colonel Fury's comment. Thankfully. Doctor Strange floated in the air before us, six inches off of the ground. Behind him, the green portal was swirling, tendrils moving in a counterclockwise manner like those of a hurricane. "The ritual is nearly complete. Begin moving the civilians up, Colonel. By the time they arrive, the portal should connect Central Park and Long Island."

"Fantastic. Great work, Doctor. How long will the actual trip through the portal take?"

"It will be instantaneous. The trip through will take no time at all. Please make sure your

SHIELD teams at the other end are ready to receive the civilians."

"Got it." "Ms. Marvel, you're in charge of making sure nothing happens to Schultz. If he takes a leak..."

"I got it," she said, stepping up beside me. I took one look at the figure standing next me, and felt very reassured. Ms. Marvel actually flashed me a weary grin as I glanced at her. "Always ending up in the center of things, Schultz."

"Yeah. Anonymity has its charms," I quipped back, to a small chuckle. Damn, she had a nice smile.

"Alright, get everyone moving!" Fury turned away, and began to toss out orders into his communication device. "Single file through the checkpoint, four abreast! No pushing, no talk back. Daniels, inform our units on Long Island that they're going to be getting the first group of civilians in a matter of minutes, and to NOT let the exit portal get jammed up like the Lincoln Tunnel during rush hour"

"And Herman."

I turned to face Doctor Strange as he spoke to me. "I heard the name you mentioned a few minutes ago. Not many mortals can stare into his face and come away with their sanity intact. Find strength in that. After the civilians have been moved through, you and I will have to talk. Be ready."

"Looking forward to it," I joked. The Sorcerer Supreme nodded to me, and floated back over to the portal. I looked over my shoulder. Behind a glaring Petruski, the SHIELD soldiers were beginning to wave everyone between the guiding lines. I heard them calling out orders, telling the civilians to follow them. The citizens walked calmly, it looked like. No panic, no concern, no rush. SHIELD was here, and they had everything under control. This was going to go smoothly, right? "Come on, universe," I muttered under my breath, "cut humanity a break here."

"BY THE POWERS GIVEN TO ME BY THE GREAT MYSTERIES, I OPEN THIS PORTAL! BY HOGGATH, BY OSHTUR, BY CYTTORAK, AND BY THE OCTESSENCE, I STRENGTHEN THIS PORTAL! BY AGAMOTTO, I GIVE ACCESS TO THIS PORTAL TO THOSE IN DIRE NEED!"

His voice boomed across the Great Lawn. Doctor Strange was at least six feet off the ground, his arms at his sides, as the green portal suddenly flared up. Bright light shot across the area, and the runes along the side pulsed with a golden glow.

"It is..."

The runes suddenly lost their light. One moment, they shone with power, and the next, they hung in air, devoid of illumination. The portal, as we watched, churned like a whirlpool being stood on its edge. The bright, welcoming green glow became a dull red storm, turning in and over itself. As the waves crashed down within the mystical opening, the redness darkened, becoming the color of blood. I knew that color. I knew those motions. It was the same thing I had seen in the eyes of the Hulk while I was getting the tar beaten out of me. What floated in front of us was the mark of the beast, the ID card for the Grim Reaper's crew.

"No..." Doctor Strange whispered, before his hands came up, already weaving some kind of spell. "The portal isn't outward bound! It's a way in..."

Like a shark leaping from the water, a giant black hand burst from the portal. Before any of us could react, it had wrapped its fingers around Doctor Strange, pinning his arms to his side. Squeezing him tight, the hand yanked him forward. Yelling in pain and surprise, the Sorcerer Supreme passed through the red portal, the energy rippling like water from his passage.

"Oh," I heard Wonder Man say from beside me, "that is NOT good."

"All units, Colonel Fury, halt Dunkirk, halt Dunkirk! Someone explain to me what the hell just happened!"

"I believe, Colonel, that Doctor Strange's attempt to open an egress from New York City has instead created a way in." Thor hefted Mjolnir in one hand. "Something wicked this way comes. I can feel it."

"Great. Just great." Fury opened his communicator again. "I need Alpha Units to the Portal Site, I repeat, all Alpha Units! All other units, stand your ground and keep the situation under control."

"I guess you're about to get your wish, Osborn," I said in a quiet voice. The industrialist turned to me, curiosity on his face. "It's like you said. You set the bait, and the guy behind all of this is about to walk into your trap. I just hope you're up for the damn task."

He gave a quiet chuckle, pride in his laughter. "Herman, I didn't come this far to fail," he replied. "But do not get in my way. If you get hit by friendly fire, it's your own fault, not mine."

"Something's coming." Ms. Marvel had stepped away from me, letting Osborn speak without her hearing us. Her fists were clenched, eyes focused on the portal. Quietly, Captain America unslung his shield from his shoulders, putting it on his arm with practiced ease. I could see Wonder Man flanking Ms. Marvel, and heard the quiet whine of capacitors powering up in Iron Man's armor.

Hell, when in Rome. I stepped forward as well, coming up beside Thor, who stood stoically, Mjolnir gripped tightly. I raised my vibro-smashers, thumbs on the triggers, aiming them at the portal.

"You stand with us then, Herman," Thor asked me in a low voice,

My stomach couldn't sink any lower in my body. My hands were shaking underneath my gloves. My throat was parched. I hadn't had a drink since St. Patrick's. I really need to pee. I wanted to be anywhere else than right here, staring into the red portal.

"Yeah, Thor. I'm standing my ground."

"Good. Then the Avengers stand with you as well on this day."

Hearing the God of Thunder had my back helped. Don't get me wrong, I was expecting another God to come walking out of that portal, but...hey, I had my ass kicked by the Hulk and walked away. Maybe...just maybe...

The energy in the portal parted, and he stepped out. Striding forward a few steps, the Grim Reaper tapped his scythe on the ground as he grinned as the gathered Avengers. "Ah," he said in a mocking tone. "It's so nice to be in Central Park this time of year. Hello, New York City!" He threw his arms up to the Avengers like he was greeting an imaginary crowd. "It's so great to be here! Welcome, everyone...to the end of the world."

X

"Eric..."

Wonder Man stepped forward, standing between our group and the Grim Reaper. His fists were balled, his body tense, his voice angry. But it was like a parent being angry with their child. "Eric, what did you do?"

"Simon. I'm so glad you're the one to greet me. It's been way to..." Eric took a stepped forward towards his brother, when a loud whine filled the air, cutting Reaper off in mid-sentence.

"One more step, and I'll put a hole in your head." Fury adopted the shooter's stance, both hands gripping his plasma pistol. "Hands behind your head, Williams, and get down on the ground."

Reaper's response was a sigh. "Really, Colonel? You're going to arrest me? I don't think so." Suddenly, Reaper's scythe whipped around. Dark purple energy shot from the tip of his weapon, streaking through the air. It slammed into Fury's hands, causing him to drop his pistol and curse loudly.

Even as the pistol fell through the air, Reaper turned on his heels. His scythe came between Ms. Marvel's photonic blast, my twin level-two blasts, and Iron Man's repulsor beam, absorbing the energy attacks with ease. The energy dissipated along the length of his scythe, harmless, as Eric turned back to face his brother. "As I was saying, it's been way too long, Simon, since we've seen each other. I'm very pleased that we'll have this final face-to-face meeting. I want to remember your face when you realize time's run out."

"The world world's dying, and the Shocker's telling us it's all your fault!"

"Oh? He managed to make it here?" Reaper turned his gaze from Wonder Man for a second, smirking in my direction. "I'm impressed, Her..."

*WHAM!*

Reaper's head rocked to the side as Wonder Man punched him across his jaw. "Damn it, Eric! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Slowly, Reaper turned his head to face his brother. "Fine. Yes, Simon. I brought all this about. I'm the conduit, the key, the reason for the season, whatever you want to call it. My master called, and I obeyed. And you don't even need to ask why. I'll point that reason out to you." The scythe raised again, the Reaper pointing his weapon as Norman Osborn, still standing calmly next to a wide-eyed Trapster. "Hello, Norman."

"Reaper," Osborn said with a slight incline of his head. "I suppose it's too late for negotiations?"

"Much too late. My boss has already made all the bargains and deals he needs to. Everything is in motion, and..."

"ENOUGH!"

Thor's voice echoed into the distance as he leveled his massive hammer at the Grim Reaper. "The time for words is over. Eric Williams, thou are responsible for crimes against humanity, by thou own admission. In the past, thou have slipped away from our grasp time and time again. Not now. Not again. Tonight, you face your final judgment. The Son of Odin swears thus!"

"Are you sure?" Reaper spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire group. "I'm here to tell you everything. All of my plans, the reason behind everything! I think it's only fair that, before you die, you know the truth. Doesn't that interest you?"

"No. It doesn't," Iron Man answered. "You're just another megalomaniac who's managed to be a successful pawn in the grand scheme of a powerful being. You're not the one we're after now, Reaper. We're after your boss. As far as I'm concerned, all you've earned from us is a thrashing. We're the Avengers. We've beaten gods. You're just a speed bump."

"Right now, Iron Man, my boss is thrashing the only line of defense you have against him. Once Strange has been beaten, Dormammu's going to come right through that portal and end every life still burning in New York City. After that, oh, London, Paris, Seoul, and everywhere else that's still holding out. See, this isn't a speed bump, Shellhead." Reaper's grin stretched across his face now, his chest beginning to swell with pride. "I'm not the same Grim Reaper you've fought before. That man is gone. I'm much, much more. Godlike power runs through my blood. I'm not just Death, Avengers. I'm your downfall."

"Better than you have tried, Reaper. And none have succeeded," Captain America proclaimed. "Where you bring darkness, we shine the light. Where you proclaim death holds sway, we hold life most dear. But mainly, Reaper...you're a slave. A slave to Dormammu and his wish to control this planet by any means necessary. And as Iron Man said, the Avengers have triumphed over tougher odds, and we will again."

"And I'll put SHIELD up against you and some tin-pot deity any day of the damn week," Colonel Nick Fury added between gritted teeth.

"Hmm...and what say you, Osborn? Where is your..." Reaper stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he stared in Osborn's direction. "Where...where is he?"

Norman Osborn and the Trapster had vanished. Neither of them was visible as I slowly craned my neck to look behind us. SHIELD officers were keeping back the first throngs of civilians, who had expected to be safe on Long Island by now. But between them and us was nothing but empty lawn.

"No...no! No! Osborn! Where are you!"

"Forget about him, Eric." Wonder Man's voice was cold, no emotion, no pity. "This ends now. You end now."

"No! I did not come all this way to let the man who murdered me escape! Once I have my revenge upon you Avengers, I'll hunt Osborn down and hand him over to Dormammu myself! BARONS! TO ME!"

The portal rippled again. First stepped a long-haired brunette, wearing a two-piece bronze set of armor that looked like a stripper's outfit, blood dripping from a deep vertical cut on her left wrist. She was followed by a black-haired man in a blue outfit, with an aura of flames surrounding the back of his head, like a football player's backboard. Behind him came a grinning Black Talon, his head completely reformed and unmarked, coming out side-by-side Oriental man with a large cut across his throat and a skin-tight black outfit with gray wrappings. As the four of them lined up behind the Grim Reaper, something flew out from the top of the portal. I caught a glimpse of silver wings and green metal passing overhead, before the final figure stepped from the portal. He passed through the four previous passengers to stand next to the Grim Reaper. Electricity crackled around his body, more than I had ever seen him handle at one time.

"Well, ain't this a party, Herman," Electro snarked, staring right at me from behind red eyes intertwined with lightning. "Who would have thought a schlub like you and a schlub like would be standing next to the Avengers and the man who killed the world? Power to the freakin' people."

"The time has come to start the final cleansing." Reaper's scythe pointed directly at his brother, Wonder Man, who responded by cracking his knuckles in his hands. "And the first to fall will be Earth's mightiest heroes! FOR DORMAMMU!"

"FOR DORMAMMU," they chanted behind him. "FOR DORMAMMU! FOR DORMAMMU! FOR DORMAMMU!"

Captain America lifted his shield into the air. He belted out that famous cry, the one that, for years, told the good guys help was on the way and informed the bad guys that they were completely screwed.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!"

Well, I wasn't going to be left out. But, when you're standing next to a guy yelling "Avengers Assemble" in a non-ironic manner, well...you end up with the following.

"Hey, Reaper, listen up! You see this?" I lifted my vibro-smasher into the air. "This...is my BOOMFIST!"

FWOOSH!

And so began the end of the whole mess.