Senator Harrington Byrd was fit to be tied. His staff had prepared everything for the news conference. Five other senators were there to lend their support to the senior senator's announcement. Byrd was going forward, under the power of the US Senate, to subpoena Anthony Stark to appear before a hearing. The Byrd-led committee wanted to investigate the traitorous, or irresponsible, Industrialist.
Stark had too many projects stolen from him by enemy agents. The familiar scenario was: Defense plans completed … in the hands of enemies … later to be retrieved by Iron Man. That smelled fishy to the Senator. Did the Stark body guard get the plans back before they were photocopied?
And what if Stark was on the up-and-up, and there was no secret money funneled to him in exchange for copying the plans that he sold to the US government? Then the re-occurrence of these thefts pointed to an incompetent Playboy who spent most of his time bedding women instead of securing secrets.
Perhaps his freelancers were setting him up with women and slipping the defense plans to the enemy while Stark was enjoying himself. Well all his contributors, including that pretty boy inventor, Henry Pym, had to be sworn in and investigated.
It was all scheduled and rock solid, until today. The six senators and their aides sat inside of a room where the number of attending reporters could fill only one third of the seats.
Byrd sat behind the microphone with increasing anger. The Senator snorted out his disgust.
It had to be that damned meta fight in New York. Maybe they knew about this press conference and they sought to distract the media from this meeting. And maybe all of them—the Avengers, Spider-man, the Fantastic Four— should be investigated also.
Harrington Byrd again blew out another huff in anger. How dare they and the press treat him this way?
Suddenly, the senator seated to Byrd's right elbowed him. The man pointed to Byrd's aide sitting in the front row. She was his wife's incompetent niece— so the senior senator just gave her a glance and returned to the papers in front of him.
Could anything be more undermining to the seriousness of this meeting? These Senators were prestigious officials. Byrd, himself, was a highly esteemed senior senator working in a highly esteemed institution. He was interrupted again by the same colleague who again pointed to the do-nothing-right aide. This time he gave her an angry, warning stare. Undeterred, she motioned to her face. Byrd instinctively did the same.
Lands sake—the highly respected senior senator from the prestigious institution had a green dry mucus hanging from his left nostril.
The masked 6 foot, one inch frame of Giant-man stood motionless like a statue. But there, at the edge of the abandoned car garage roof, he was navigating many things. His eyes moved from the duo of The Blob and the Unicorn to Spiderman and back to his two "hands" battling the 24-foot robot. Aside from this surveillance, he had a legion of flying insects lift up the body of the unconscious Quicksilver. They were helping Wanda Maximoff carry her brother away.
As the two players were leaving the chest board of battle, they passed by the corner in front of the 2-story structure. It was close enough for Giant-man to shout down to her.
How he could further help, the Avenger asked. Wanda's first response were tears that testified of her deep appreciation for the forgiving heart of the man whom she and her brother had previously attacked. She then petitioned for a safe passage to a car parked on 126th Street.
Using his cybernetic helmet, Giant-man radioed the police captain. The uniformed presence at 125th Street that held people away from the furious fighting were told to expect a woman and an unconscious white-haired man leaving the battle zone. The police was asked to part the crowd and let her bring the man to a vehicle.
Aside from the man's hair, the police would know who the couple was when they see an unusual sight. A cloud of insects were carrying the man.
Hank was suddenly roused from his three preoccupations by a slow shadow movement on the floor towards his right. The Avenger sighed half amused, half annoyed. It took longer than Hank had anticipated, but the sucker-punching Hawkeye was making his move.
Clint Barton had witnessed the strange dance that his intended victim had performed. He chalked it up to it up to craziness. In truth, Hank's stops and starts had accomplished two things. Firstly, it positioned him in a way where anyone approaching him from behind would cast a shadow to his right. Secondly, he mentally marked a few spots where his own head had cast a shadow on the floor in proportion to how far he was from the roof's edge. This would work as a behind-the-back radar. Hank would know how far a sneak-attacker was from him by observing where the assailant's head shadow fell on the roof.
Hawkeye's ears were missing on the shadow. The tip of his nose was showing on the right—the villain was angling himself for a right-to-left swing. And there…. above his shoulder was his study bow. This was going to be easy.
Hank continued his forward gaze as he instructed the Unicorn to stand down and let the Blob take the robot's machine gun barrage. The split-second that the villain's right shoulder shadow flinched, Hank speedily bent his torso forward while kicking back with his right foot.
The heel met the target, though not exactly where he wanted. Captain America had taught the size-changer to heel-kick into the knee of an attacker coming from behind. That would painfully disable the foe for a long time, if not out-right break his knee cap. Hank, though, struck the thigh just above the knee. It would provide considerably pain, but nothing that couldn't be shaken off in less than three minutes by an experienced brawler…. which this guy didn't seem to be.
Hawkeye gave a loud cry. His bow flew forward and over the side of the roof. The villain's upper body leaned forward from the reflexive reaction of pain. Hank quickly leaned backwards. Hank jerked his feet up into the air and landed with his weight on Barton's back.
Sure, Barton could shoot his arms in front of him to cushion the impact on the hard roof surface, but now with Hank's weight added to his, that cushion was going to be almost ineffective.
Initially, the hero's back was flat against the elongated quiver on Hawkeye's back. But before the impact, Hank turned so that only his right shoulder made contact.
Hawkeye smashed hard and flat against the floor. Because of Hank's positioning, he was able to deflect 90 percent of the potential damage to himself. The otherwise painful crash landing was accepted by the hero with a non-injurious rolling-away movement.
Leaving Clint Barton sprawled, Hank quickly got to his feet. In a passing thought, that little defensive maneuver was just one of a million reasons why Hank hated himself for any jealous resentment that had felt for his star-spangled, fighting instructor. But enough of that. There was a battle to be won.
Xu's laugh was mingled with the roars of two rapid fire guns. After innumerable bullets had sliced the air, Xu releases the two buttons on top of his yoke— his steering wheel— l to see the effect. His eyes opened widely as the Blob appeared to have somehow dodged the bul- NO!
The round American pig crossed his arms over his chest. He bowed and began to go down. But the young scientist's cheering taunt died halfway up his throat.
In Yolanda's mind, the horrible roar of the guns had deadened the entire world. For a few seconds only a standing Frederick Dukes existed. Then Frederick started to go down. She launched out a cry of despair…. which quickly turned into astonished JOY!
Xu found it unbelievable. With cat-like quickness, the Blob straightened up and sprung his arms out to his sides again. The armor-piercing bullets shot out of his torso.
Some bounced a couple of yards away on the pavement as armless as raindrops. Other bullets traveled far enough to make "ping" sounds against the robot's protective dome. The robot operator instinctively raised his forearms to protect his face.
The man lowered his arms to look out. For the first time in this struggle, Zhi Ming Xu saw his vision fading; the imagery of the jubilant handshake from Chairman Mao and General Secretary Deng Xiaoping; the decorated military generals in lavish banquets, waiting for him to sit before they did the same; and the parade where all his countrymen were rejoicing over his victory…. Everything was running away from him.
With an over-animated, comical shrug, Yolanda's rotund partner had straightened up and shot his arms away to the sides. The innumerable seven-inch bullets that had entered his body were spat out. Some bullets actually hit the dome of the machine. And the man sitting inside of the machine crossed his forearms in front of his eyes.
Yolanda found herself cheering Frederick's circus antics. She applauded for Fred's victory …. for the belief that the would-be killer operating the machine had been humiliated and his confident had to be shaken. She glowed warmly because in the end, General Henry Pym was right…. as if she needed another reason to love this great battle strategist.
She turned around to her beloved Hank with clasped hands over her head in a victory sign. But he wasn't on the rooftop. Where…? Suddenly she saw him standing up from behind the parapet.
Dear Lord, she thought. He must have suffered a dizzy spell from his dehydration. Without thinking, Yolanda dove towards the police van. She slide the door open and scared the two occupants as Hank had done minutes before.
"Giant-man, I'm coming. I have something for you," the Unicorn said.
"If you two keep scaring Tabby," Lorna said, "you'll need something for her. New panties." Of course the Unicorn startled the older girl also, but she wasn't going to admit it.
The two teen mutants looked on as the armored heroine searched the same gold-colored bag where they had found the sandwiches. Did she have a super-duper weapon in there? Both girls held their breath until the Unicorn pulled out an awesome…. CAN OF 7-UP SODA?!
Before they could say anything, the Unicorn slammed the door shut.
In astonishing time, Yolanda reached her mentor. A metallic finger punctured the top of the soda can and the liquid sprung up to slap Henry Pym in the face. Damn it, she somehow shook the can on her way to the rooftop. She placed a hand over the can to attempt to stop the gusher.
"Sorry, sorry."
"What are you doing?" Hank asked.
"Never you mind. You need to sit and drink this." She took her hand away when she was satisfied that the soda settled with more than half of it still in the can.
If Yolanda hadn't been so upset, she would have noticed that Hawkeye was on the floor a few feet from Henry. She would have then figured out that dehydration wasn't the reason why Hank was getting up to his feet seconds ago.
"I'll find you a chair." Yolanda added.
"Hush, I'm fine. Get back to business".
An argument between teacher and student was just around the corner when Hank took his hand and place it on the back of her neck. He quickly brought her metallic forehead to his, resulting in a small "bong". In a fatherly manner, he reminded her about the dangers to the public and the loss of disappearing time.
She took his hand off of her and placed the soda can in it. As she flew away she warned, "You're right, we have no time to squabble. But when we get home, Mister…"
Henry Pym was appreciative for Yolanda's concern. But he was more grateful that the rocketing heroine didn't look back. His commanding status would have taken a big hit if she saw him rubbing his painful forehead.
The metal she-rat had disappeared. Being alone with the blubbery capitalist pig seemed to embolden the young Red Chinese Nationalist. The bullet-repelling fiasco seemed to had disappear from his memory.
Zhi Ming Xu was a proud Son of the Revolution. And the Revolution was a mighty tsunami that was destined to roll over these Americans rats and drown them. Xu was going to be part of it.
"I am the China's proof of our superiority over these paper tigers. I must not… I will not fail. "
His furrowed eyebrows again showed his determination and the young man had his machine jogging towards the fat freak of nature. This time he would utilized the center barrel—the flamethrower. There will be a smell of roasted pig in the air today.
Just blocks away from her destination, Yolanda gasped anew. The robot was launching fire from between the two machine gun barrel. The flesh-eating flames charged towards the Blob.
Where bullets failed, fire may succeed, she thought. The Unicorn increased her speed. But could she make it in time to snatch the round-ish man up and away?
Suddenly, about of a quarter of the elongated line of fire unexplainably bent to the left. It bent about ten yards from the mighty mutant.
The Robot kept coming. The flame bent away at one-third of its length…. then a half… two-thirds.
Finally the machine stopped when the operator saw the flames had detoured away only 20 feet in front of the robot. The expression on Fredericks face echoed Yolanda's own bewilderment. It couldn't have been a secret power of Frederick, since he was just as surprised. Well, thank God for malfunctions, Yolanda thought.
Henry commanded the Unicorn to… "Get behind the robot. Turn it around. I want the camera to catch its profile."
The camera did— it held the image of the fire-breathing barrel and the two machine guns for a whole 2 seconds.
Then the camera caught an additional 2. 6 seconds of a great exhibition of power. The Unicorn bent the two machine gun barrels so that they aimed at the man inside of the dome. She went under the vision of the Asiatic man and then tried to the same with the flame-throwing barrel, but it broke off in her hand. In a display of contempt, the Unicorn raised herself into the view of the man inside the dome and tossed the barrel over her right shoulder nonchalantly.
The Blob kicked two vehicles towards the robot. They were the original cars that the machine had wanted to use as boxing gloves. As expected, the robot again grabbed them.
"Okay," Hank said into the speaker. "Now without any pieces flying up towards the news crew helicopter, let him swing and you two disarm him."
Giant-man looked northward— towards Spider-man. He didn't like what he saw. The Avenger again broke into the police channel.
"Captain, I need you to quickly send a squad car down to the approaching couple. I have to redeploy my little air force. Please have two officers bring the male the rest of the way to their vehicle."
The red-clad Avenger took a quick glance at the battle going on against the giant robot. He instructed the Blob to kick two cars over to the machine and then disarm it in front of the news camera.
Hank turned his eyes to the west again. Even from a distance, Hank saw the troubled face of the Scarlet Witch as the insects gingerly lowered her unconscious brother to the ground. Hank would have to reassure her that he hadn't abandoned them. The wasps carefully made a cartoon-like arrow.
She didn't get the configuration at first. Then the insect-constructed arrow made a movement towards the direction that it was pointed—the barricades.
The Unicorn slowly moved forward, giving her foe enough time to secure its grip on the cars. . She then stopped. Inside her mask, the light "ak" came on again.
But ready it or not, here came a station wagon … full force, right at her head.
Wanda finally got "the arrow" message. She turned to see the crowd of Homo Sapiens part to allow passage of a green car with a white top and a flashing red light.
The wasps then dashed towards Spider-man. Giant-man returned to The Unicorn to see her hovering as in a trance.
He shouted, "What's wrong. Can't you see what's coming at you?"
Her thoughts were on the flickering light and how much energy could she spend right then and there. Then Henry Pyms' shout brought Yolanda's attention back to the battle.
The Unicorn booster boots raised her up to avoid the robot's swing. The car that the machine used as a weapon hit one of her boots and sent her flipping head-over-heel in her ascension over the robot dome. Thankfully, the propulsion feature had not been damaged.
Fully aware that the camera caught this embarrassing moment, Yolanda swore to stay in focus. She righted her body so that her boots were earthward. With the confidence that came from possessing the strength of a couple of bulldozers, the metal-clad heroine performed a Ferris wheel-wide aero-flip that returned her to the front of the robot. The Unicorn charged at the machine.
The Asian man inside the robot made the station wagon shoot forward in another punch. The Unicorn's hands were in front of her like a swimmer diving into a pool. Upon immediate contact, her arms moved in opposite directions to rip the station wagon apart with a deafening roar that could have been heard for blocks.
The Unicorn narrowly missed the dome when she zoomed up. After another wide back-flip, she hovered silently 30 feet in front of the shocked robot operator. She savored the man's reaction. It surprised her that she felt …. more than GREAT! The battle was pumping her adrenaline. The very fact that the battery light was flickering added to the urgency and the excitement.
The light shut off. The armor's power was no longer in danger of running down. But the hormonal rush hadn't subsided a bit. That boxing machine in front of her was beginning to look as harmless as that toy in Happy Valley Day Care Center. This Rock'em, Sock'em Robot wasn't going to be standing for the next round.
Giant-man heard Hawkeye behind him. The noise that the masked archer made while struggling to get to his feet— boot shuffling starts and grunting stops— testified to his amateur status as a fighter.
Hank fought back another bout of light-headedness, while loudly saying, "It would be better for you if you just stay down."
The dismissive words enraged Hawkeye further. When Hank saw the head shadow again, the Avenger turned around. The cursing, staggering villain attempted a very predictable right-handed round house punch. But Barton's fist never made it to the jaw of Captain America's premiere student.
The hero's head moved to the left of the oncoming fist. His right hand grabbed the wrist of the extended arm even as Hawkeye's own momentum was bringing him forward. Hank wrapped his free arm around the punching arm.
Now no normal human was as quick as Cap, Spider-man or Quicksilver—but Hank didn't have to be. In less time than it took to say "You're finished," the hero's hands were on Hawkeye's wrist and forearm while his underarm was leaning down on the back of the shoulder of the bent-over villain. Giant-man's hands went up, Giant-man's torso went down and Barton let out an extended imitation of a mooing cow.
Though not given to sadistic humor, Hank found it funny that there were two small wet spots— tear drops— on the ground under Hawkeye's head. This was very unbecoming of the big bad villain.
Hank was getting impatient. The bent-over foe was down on one knee and one hand. His nose was less than three feet off of the roof floor. When would this idiot interrupt his painful moaning long enough to notice that Hank's left leg was in front of the dope's right knee? The amateur brawler should have tried to grab it with his left hand. Then pushing his body against Giant-man's thigh, he should have tried to throw his captor off balance.
This seemingly logical attempt to escape would have occupied the bowman's left hand. Then Hank would buckled his knees, go straight down, and without his hand to slow his descent, Hawkeye's face would be re-introduced to the floor. This time it would produce a knock out.
Damn it. Hank had to see how far his wasps were from Spider-man and how his two partners were doing against the large robot.
Oh, what the hell. The Avenger pulled away and sprung an unimaginative boot to Barton's face. The crier instantly stopped his wailing.
The size-changer shook his head. If he ever had the misfortune to meet this jerk again, Hank would definitely opt for the old fashion one-two-to-the jaw route and get it over with.
Yolanda knew that she was experiencing what Henry had previously described as a "warrior high." It felt marvelous, but it could also cloud a fighter's judgment with unhealthy overconfidence. She looked back at her general in an attempt to cool down.
Because of the roof's parapet, she couldn't see what he was stepping over, but who cared. She made out his pearly whites.
:: SIGH:: Even while wearing a mask, when he smiled at her, the young woman's insides fluttered. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a screeching sound.
Yolanda turned. A second vehicle in the robot's hand was destroyed before the machine could use it as a weapon. Looking down, she saw engine oil had dripped down on the chin, chest and belly of the Blob.
The round man looked more like a pudgy, naughty little boy who, in a rush to drink chocolate syrup, spilled it on himself.
"Well done," she found herself saying. More surprising to her was her wide smile behind the metal helmet.
Zhi Ming Xu walked his machine backwards away from the two seemingly invincible Americans. It was incredible! His vision of conquest had disappeared. And for the first time in the battle he was afraid.
Let the tin can retreat, the mighty mutant said to himself. His mind was elsewhere. Frederick Jolan Dukes could not help but turn around to check on the lovely Wanda Maximoff. He could no longer see the cloud of wasps. Maybe because they were far off?
Still, Fredericks's heart somehow empowered his eyes' magnification to make out her body language. The captivating beauty expressed relief and concern as two cops put Pietro into a police car. This was probably the last time he would ever see her.
Fred couldn't deny that a part of him was dying inside. But that was what he got for daring to dream that he had even the thinnest of chance to win Wanda's heart.
Just as Yolanda had to return to her mind to the business at hand, the heartbroken behemoth had a fight to finish.
He sighed deeply and then he reminded himself that he lived this long without Wanda. He can continue to live a long life without her….. especially now when Giant-man offered him a fulfilling life.
Over the headset, Giant-man charged the Unicorn to fly in a distinct pattern. It ended with him ordering both of them to "take away his limbs."
Fred saw the Unicorn fly behind the backtracking robot. She then grabbed one metallic ankle and flew up in front of the robot.
Yolanda had to squash the nagging thought of her defective alternator. Okay, it wasn't as perfect as she thought. Back at the penthouse, she was only an hour away from finishing the newer version.
Following orders, the Unicorn zoomed her way behind the machine and locked her strong fingers around its left ankle. The heroine flew up to bring the foot up to the robot's dome. The machine went down hard and loud.
Oh, Heavens! Her speed, her strength… that adrenaline rush was coming back again.
The heroine was just as excitement when the Blob ripped the right arm away from the giant assailant. The break-away noise filled the air.
The Unicorn came down to plant one foot on the side of the fallen metal torso. Frederick winked at his armored ally after the Unicorn pulled away its left arm. Fred reached for the right leg and she grabbed the robot's left. Like a wishbone, they snapped off the lower limbs. In all, the teeth-grinding screeching of torn metal lasted a few seconds.
In unison, Henry Pym's two hands released their triumphant sighs. Yolanda looked down. Within the dome was the Asian man who insulted her. Right then he wasn't concentrating on the Unicorn nor the Blob. His fear was centered on a swarm of ants crawling on the transparent covering. They were looking for an opening so as to have a field day on the inhabitant.
Again, Giant-man took the Unicorn by surprise with seemingly irrelevant questions. He said that he knew Fred Dukes once tried out for the major leagues as a pitcher. He also said that he knew Fred still incorporated some of his lost career talent into his circus act. Before Yolanda could ask why all this was important, Henry issued another order. The Unicorn was to point the news helicopter uptown and then ….
Both the radio and TV in the elite hotel suite were on. Only one of the room's two occupants had his feet up on the ottoman, relishing the news.
"And where the hell are you going?" the slender Dmitri interrupted his enjoyment to ask his muscular brother.
Sergei was out of his civilian clothes. The leopard leotards were a flash across the room—Kraven, the World's Greatest Hunter was looking for his Lion-image vest.
"You idiot," Sergei roared. " Don't you see what's happening?! My prey, my prize is within minutes of being conquered by two freaks. I didn't cross the Atlantic to allow this to happen. And it won't."— He wrapped his vest himself around with a tug— "I'll rescue him and then in two days, I'll capture my well-rested game."
"Reee-lax," the faceless man said. "I've seen him in tight sp—"
"You know nothing outside of your masquerade foolishness. I am a hunter— an expert on a prey's body messages. I can see from his movements that he is tiring."
A deep breath preceded a slow release of air from the frustrated Chameleon. He tilted his head back on the luxurious chair.
"Sergei, Sergei, Sergei," Dmitri said emotionlessly. But he soon jumped up out of the chair and raced towards the window. Kraven was in full uniform and he had his two grappling hooks and cables. The brawny buffoon was going to swing his way uptown. Even if he would be as fast as Spider-man, which was still a question, his "prize" was at least smart enough to not to travel in broad daylight. Well, except for this day. The red-and-blue battler certainly didn't hail a cab to get to 127th street.
"The Avengers are with him. They'll save him," Dmitri said trying to sound calm.
Kraven's face looked like a maddened animal. He screamed, "A bumbling, small-brained Giant? A rusted pot and flabby circus clown?"
With the speed of a striking cobra, Kraven's large powerful hand took his brother by the throat. Dmitri's hands tried to pry the gorilla-strong fingers away, but they failed. Kraven brought the gaging Chameleon way from the window.
"Wait"-gasp—" these windows are"— gwack—"shut. Need"—gasp—"special key…"
Kraven had moved his brother a good distance from the window when the Disguise Master felt the vise-like grip relaxing. It was then that the desperate Dmitri accomplished the impossible. Keeping his grip on Kraven's wrist, the Chameleon judo-flipped the strong man to the floor. The broad shouldered brute jumped to his feet as fast as a pouncing cheetah. There was rage and death in the hunter's eyes.
The clearly frightened Dmitri raised his open palms in front of Kraven. "Just Listen."
Spider-man zigzagged Marko's attacks. All the while, the youth's eyes were on the communicator that the Sandman was unwittingly carrying on his feet. Actually, they weren't feet just then. His lower regions were a pillar of mobile construction sand and hard blocks. This not only increased his height to 15 feet, but it made Marko move faster than if he used mere human legs.
Peter saw the head piece continually disappear into and then resurface from the sandy grains. Maybe he could retrieve it without getting his hand crushed between two of the quick, constantly moving chucks of cement. Frustration was building upon his urgency as he was being kept away by Marko's weapon-morphed hands.
He leaped away to his left… and into Electro's sight. The now one-armed bolt-thrower had Peter hopping. The youth leaped over many electric charges. The young hero landed upside down on his left hand while his right hand was shooting out a web aimed at Dillon's eyes.
Alas, the webbing sizzled into nothing as it neared the high voltage field that Electro had placed around himself.
Above Marko's shout for Dillon to "F- - k off," the web-slinger again heard metal-destroying sounds. But that was his least concern. Spiderman flipped over another electric bolt and landed with his body flat on the ground… just under the "swoosh" of Marko's mace. Swinging early, Marko had aimed his spiked ball into the space where he anticipated that Spider-man's torso should have been when he landed on the street. But Spider-senses again trumped the best laid plans that any villain could configure.
Spider-man balled his body and rolled away. The teenage hero kept an eye on his nearest incredible foe. The towering Sandman was gaining on him at race car speed.
The youth's breathing became harder; air couldn't get into his lungs fast enough. His heart was nearly jumping out of his body. Only his mental image of a devastated Aunt May at his funeral kept his body from collapsing. Spider-man braced himself against a lamppost that Electro had previously chopped off to half its size. He sprayed a net of webbing towards the Sandman's face and chest.
Flint Marko only had to destabilize the top of his body so that the web would shoot harmlessly through him. But instinctively, he granulated his entire body. That was what Peter needed. He dove for the communicator. He held his breath and continued his almost faster-than-eye-can-follow charge into the grainy "legs" and out the other side of the villain.
Perhaps Peter did not need their aid, and he certainly didn't notice them, but a swarm of wasps swirled around Marko's head when the youth's webbing failed to blind the villain. The insects rose up and away just as the Sandman flattened his hands to make giant swatters.
With his engine running close to empty, the panting Mr. Parker allowed his body to slide along the black top to distance himself from his foe. Overturned vehicles had blocked Electro's view, so he had a few seconds to talk. Peter swallowed hard on his saliva and his pride to yell into his thin mouthpiece.
"Need help here. Can … someone ….. take out, …. at least …. one of these … guys?!
"Way ahead of you, son," was the response from a familiar male voice.
"If you had listened, you would have known that I was coming," a female voice rang in a smart-alecky fashion.
Spider-man looked back to see Dillon using a electric static base under his feet to slide into view. Electro was spontaneously preparing for another bolt-launch. The wearied Spider-man braced for another leap.
Suddenly, the ground under Electro exploded. Dillon's body soared up and backwards. "Got you," the Unicorn's voice rang in Peter's headset.
It was a rear attack, but Spider-man wasn't going to complaining if Metal Mammoth Mouth learned her sucker-punching ways from Hawk-crap.
"NOW, Mr. Dukes," the male voice said in Peter's communicator. The Unicorn landed between the Sandman and the young hero. The bridge's majestic sight was behind Marko.
Marko yelled, "Out of the way, bitch. This ain't no time fer a f- -king tea party."
The Unicorn held up her hand to request that Marko wait a minute. The Unicorn then clasped her hands in front of her face in an apparent plea. The head leaning to the right was her own little added touch.
Marko didn't know what to do, but Yolanda was buying time for her partner. Three seconds later, her right arm shot out to point Marko to his left.
In the air, heading straight towards him was the same tree trunk that the Blob had thrown at Giant-man earlier.
It was too big and it too late to dodge. In self-preservation reflex, Marko transformed his entire body to sand. Even before the tree got to him, the Unicorn raised both repulsor palm-discs. The airy sand of the villain's body was forcefully blown away in wide spreading arch motion so that he could not solidify himself. The ultimately destination of all his particles was the river. The tree trunk zoomed by the spot where Marko had once stood with a gale storm sound.
The large tree trunk's top and bottom took turns bouncing off the street. It headed towards the pile of destroyed vehicles. Among them was that the White Rock Soda delivery truck where the awesome fight began.
Before it hit, the Unicorn's rocketed there to catch the tree. She raised it into the air.
Yolanda chuckled over the mightier-than-mighty Blob's pin-point aim. She giggled over the Sandman's surprise ending that was helped by the Unicorn's stalling tactic. Finally, she cheered in recognition of Hank's ingenuity. As planned, the granulated body of Clint Marko was falling over a wide range into the river.
The Unicorn landed in front of Spider-man. One hand balanced the massive tree over her head, the other hand rested on her hip. She said to Spiderman, "Well, Sandpaper-buns is going to have an interesting time winning his tug-of-war with the tide and undercurrents.
"It will be weeks before he can collect his soggy body parts and then get himself together. That should be time enough for him to learn how to gentlemanly address a lady."
Peter was about to thank the big mouth when he heard Giant-man enthusiastically praise the Blob and the Unicorn over their great team work. Peter didn't have x-ray vision like his childhood comic book hero, but he could have sworn that the woman behind the Unicorn helmet was all smiles.
"Oh wait," the heroine recovered. "I'm not done"—the hand that was on her hip now pointed to the tree over her head—"with this."
She flew over the mesmerized Spider-man. Peter he hadn't a clue as to where she was going. A second later, it was clear. The young hero finally spotted the silent Stranger one-and-a-half block away. As expected, he was sprinting towards Second Avenue. The armored maiden of might landed a distance from the powerhouse.
The Unicorn's arms could not make it entirely around the wide tree. But that didn't stop her from swinging it in a manner reminiscent of Mickey Mantle in his heyday.
BAAAAM! Mighty Mutt flew backwards in a straight line drive. He hit the ground behind Spider-man and started bouncing towards the river.
The Unicorn dropped the tree and asked the seventeen-year-old hero, "I think that's where you wanted him, correct?"
She zoomed towards the soda truck. The Unicorn picked up two cans of soda that was on the ground and then flew back towards Giant-man.
"Your spark-plug friend looks like he's getting up," he heard her say. "Sit tight. I'll be back in a few seconds."
Peter was left with a very impressed, very big sigh. "Daaaamn— what a woman."
Note: Give yourself a pat in the back if you remembered that Dr. Henry Pym's "Warrior High" warning came in Chapter 18….. Soooo long ago.