Undisclosed Location
May 14, 2018
4:00pm EST

A group of children played with their new puppy in Central Park. Sparks flew from an alien artifact as SHIELD scientists prodded it in a remote facility in the South Pacific. A bored Secret Service agent coughed into his hand as he stood at post outside the Oval Office. These images and a dozen more played out across an array of monitors, the blue electric glow of the screens the only light in the otherwise darkened room.

Watching these monitors was a solitary figure, standing at ease. Months had been spent meticulously plotting out every step of this plan, making sure every piece would be in place, and that those who could stop it would be so overwhelmed as to be rendered powerless.

Very soon, this world would fall, to be replaced with the glorious new order that was always meant to be.

"The time has come," the figure announced, a simple hand gesture changing the entire array of monitors to a single display: the crowded streets of an American metropolis. "Let us begin Phase One."

---

Times Square, Manhattan

Even in the mid-afternoon on a Monday, Times Square was jam-packed. Horns blared as cars, buses, and taxis shuttled people to countless destinations. Hundreds waited in line for tickets to the latest shows on Broadway. Street performers strummed guitars, danced, did their best impersonations of statues, anything to get passing tourists to throw a dollar or two their way. Overhead, the clusters of skyscrapers were clad in a jumble of billboards and LED displays, telling the public to watch new shows and movies, to buy the latest electronics, or to enjoy a refreshing ice-cold Coca-Cola. Though far removed from rustic images of apple pie and Norman Rockwell, the cacophony of consumerism was every bit as much of a slice of pure Americana at its most crass, its most commercialized, and its most exciting.

So busy, so humming with activity was this artery of the city that most didn't even notice that the ground had begun to rumble. Or that a light beige haze had wafted in, coating the area in a thin film of gritty dust.....

.....or rather, sand.

As the rumble grew strong enough that the crowds of pedestrians and motorists began to notice it, a geyser of sand erupted from a manhole in the street, the steel manhole-cover shattering the windshield of a taxi as it came down. The sand swirled about in the air, whirling into a tornado that scraped the skin and choked the lungs of screaming bystanders, before it began to take form.

An enormous sandy hammer slammed into the side of a police cruiser, sending the car tumbling. At the end of that hammer, an arm began to form, and beyond the arm, the torso and head of a burly man in a striped green shirt.



"Awright, New Yawkers!" shouted Flint "The Sandman" Marko in his honking Queens tone. "You'd betta start runnin' while ya can, 'cuz today, the Sandman's really hittin' the town!"

With that, Marko's fist formed a giant spiked wrecking ball and smashed into the facade of the Hotel Carter, knocking the historic neon sign off of its supports. With a groan of twisting metal, the sign began to give way, threatening to rain down metal, glass, and stonework on the panicked crowd below.

---

Threat Level:
6
Minor Threats:

• Falling Neon Sign, falling debris
• Panicked crowd, foot and traffic

Midtown Manhattan

Howard the Duck cleared his throat as he wheeled the office chair towards the microphone. The studio apartment he called home had been outfitted with acoustic panels, a high-quality mic on the desk right next to where his laptop sat. A pair of earbuds were plugged into those weird looking little ear holes ducks have. Google it, guys. "Duck ear holes." Seriously, they look weird. Just don't google "duck penis." I did and I regretted it.

"For forty years, there's been a terror looming across the country," Howard said into the mic. He wore a pair of black frame glasses. How they were staying on his face was anybody's guess.

"There's a killer is out there and he strikes without warning, without a victim preference. His hunting grounds are all the major cities in America. He's killed most often in places like Atlanta, Miami, and New York City. But he will occasionally kill in places like Chicago, LA, or even Kansas City. What do all of these cities have in common? They just so happen to have Major League Baseball teams in them. And at the time of every killing over the last forty years, the Philadelphia Phillies have been in town to play baseball."

Howard hit a button on his laptop and the ominous theme began to play underneath his introduction.

"Welcome to Phanatic, the one hundred and sixty-two part podcast series that examines the vast conspiracy inside Major League Baseball that has harbored a psychopathic killer mascot for four decades. On today's episode: A Dodgers double header mixed with triple murder, Chase Utley, and the 2008 World Series. We'll be right back after a word from our sponsor. This episode of Phanatic is brought to you by Turpentinebox, the subscription box that delivers to you monthly all the chemicals to produce your own homemade turpentine. I use Turpentinebox and I have to say--"

Howard was cut short as his apartment shook, sending his microphone off the table and on to the ground.

"Waugh!"

Standing, Howard waddled to the window. He saw bystanders racing away from something, a look of terror on their faces.

"So much for that Stamps.com ad..."

---

Time's Square
A very short time and three dash marks later

From the rooftop of his building, Howard looked down at scene below. He was very fortunate that his apartment overlooked Time Square. It was also explain why he paid five thousand a month in rent for a studio apartment. On Howard's left hand was the Abundant Glove. Was it as powerful as the Infinity Gauntlet? No way. Could it also allow him to hold his own against super villains? Also, no. But with the powers of the Compassion, Laughter, Dance, Respect, and Second Dance gems, he could at least do his part while other heroes took care of Sandman. That was if they showed up. But, c'mon, this is New York we're talking about. There were as many costumed superheroes here as there were pizza places.

Harnessing the power of the two Dance Gems, Howard began to control the panicked crowd. They all came to a stop. Slowly, they all swayed their hips in time with each other. The pedestrians all began to gather together. Within a few seconds, three large conga lines had formed around Time Square, the people heading away from the carnage in an orderly yet rhythmic fashion.

Brooklyn

The cup of coffee rolled idly in Steve Rogers's hand. He stared a hole into its inky-black depths before taking a sip. The bitter liquid made him wince slightly. They claimed this was the best cup of coffee in the city. Maybe it was. Cap came out of the ice a while ago, but he still couldn't wrap his mind around what the hell had happened to coffee in the time he was gone. That and beer. Whoever thought beer should taste like pine tar needed their head examined.

"If you don't like it you don't have to drink it," Sharon Carter, SHIELD's Agent 13, chuckled from across the table. She had been assigned to help him acclimate after he was thawed out, but she had become so much more. During the war, he had never considered falling in love. But now it was all he could think about. "I'm not sure you fit in with Brooklyn anymore."

Steve smirked and nodded at her, "I do tend to end up in more Snapgrams than I would normally expect."

"Snapchats, babe. Snapchats," Sharon shook her head in amusement. "We seriously need to get a pop culture refresh-"

Suddenly, both of their attentions were drawn to the TV hanging outside the cafe. A breaking news story flashed over the screen, showing Flint Marko, the Sandman, attacking Times Square.

"I'll go get the shield," Sharon got up and took off towards their apartment. "Go get your bike!"

Steve took off as well, ducking into an alley. He pushed onto the side of his wristwatch as he ran, and from it sprung his Captain America tactical armor. It spread over him like water, but in reality was a group of interlocking machines made by Tony Stark. It wasn't as strong as his armor, but it allowed Cap the freedom of movement and protection he needed.

He found his bike parked out back of the apartment, as he started it up, he looked up and saw Sharon toss him the shield. He caught it and she yelled down, "I'll get in touch with Fury! Go!"

Captain America fired up the bike, and sped off towards Manhattan.

---

Times Square

Steve weaved in and out of traffic until he saw Times Square looming a few blocks in front of him. Soon, the road was too full of traffic, and the sidewalks too choked with people to ride further. He disembarked the bike and sprinted the rest of the way. As he did, however, he noticed the people fleeing the scene weren't fleeing at all.

They were dancing.

Cap didn't have time to worry about that. He reached Times Square and found Sandman towering in the center of the landmark laughing and holding a car above his head. He looked to take aim at some of the evacuating civilians. Instead, Cap's shield cut through the sand forming his arms, causing the car to crash to the ground at the villain's feet. With a moment to take stock, Cap saw a sign above the crowd hanging on by a thread.

"Sharon, the Hotel Carter sign is about to crash into civilians," he said over his commlink. "I can keep Marko occupied, but we need someone to secure that sign."

Marko winced as his arm fell away from his body, more a gesture of frustration than actual pain. Turning to face his assailant, his grimace turned into a wicked grin.

"Well, well, well," the Sandman sneered, "Cap'n America, the one an' only. I've always wanted a shot at you, one kid from the streets to another."

The mass of sand that was his severed arm pooled around his feet, piling back into his body as the sands shifted to grow a new arm.

" 'course, you was here back when the Dodgers was here, too," he said, his hands turning into masses of quills. "Speakin' of, why dontcha try dodgin' these!!!"

As the quills hardened to jagged rocky spears, Sandman flung them towards the Star-Spangled Avenger, a hail of tiny darts speeding towards the hero in a blur.

---

Elsewhere...

"Sir, we've just received confirmation," an aide stated, hesitantly approaching the figure cloaked in shadows, "Captain America has arrived on the scene and is engaging the Sandman."

"Excellent," the figure responded, the voice dripping with malice. "The Captain has no weapons that can hurt Marko; at best, he can delay for others to arrive."

"Should...should we begin Phase Two, then, sir?"

There was a pause as the figure contemplated, before responding.

"Not yet," came the answer. "Stark and the others are unaccounted for just yet. Once they are occupied, we shall proceed."

"Wait. Hold on. You remember it how?"

Mary Jane laughs as she clasps my hand in her's, basking in the glow of the first week of a New York summer heat as we walk through Central Park on the way back from the movie. It's not often that your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man is able to catch his breath and just take everything in for a moment, but this afternoon is one of those rare miraculous instances. And there are definitely worse ways to spend my very, very rare day off from getting growled at by Jolly Jonah Jameson than spending it with this pretty lady. Her red hair practically radiates as she places her head on my shoulder.

"You're adorable when you're nervous. You know that?", she teases. "Yes, there was infact a time when the enigmatic Peter Parker was so spazzed out by asking the girl next door over that he kept tripping over his words to tell her a pretty big secret. We were both in High School, and you'd called me to tell me that there was something important you had to tell me..."

"This doesn't sound like me at all,", I argue, chuckling along with her. "I mean, not the calling you over part. The spazzing out part I completely agree with and will never argue to the contrary. But as I recall, you were the one who told me that you knew I was... y'know. And we were just out of college."

"Out of college? Oh, no. This was a very vivid afternoon, Mr. Parker..."

Throwing my arm around her shoulder, she begins talking in that loving-but-also-kinda-making-fun-of-me tone of voice that both gets on my nerves and drives me wild in all the best ways.

"Aunt May was home. You were up in your bedroom, petrified. You poor thing."

"That is also an accurate assumption."

"And I just remember you blurting it out after awhile.", she says, laughing. "'MJ, I have something I need to tell you. And you can't tell anybody! Anybody at all!' You said it like a hundred times before I could finally convince you it was okay to trust me."

My brow furrows. I know that my memory isn't what it used to be, but was that really how it happened? Did I really ask Mary Jane Watson - y'know, THE Mary Jane Watson, who used to be the apple of literally every guy's eye and the ultimate party girl - to come over to my house to tell her I was Spider-Man? I could barely ask Sally Avril to the prom at that age. Hell, I could barely work up the nerve to fight The Green Goblin at that age. And that guy was coo-coo bananas with a side of crazy fries, my absolute favorite type of villain to punch.

"It's not that I don't believe you, but... I mean, we are talking about a fifteen-year-old me. With the big coke bottle glasses and everything."

"Coke bottle glasses? Oh my god, I didn't even remember you had those!", she says, nearly snorting. "And the sweatervests! Oh, wow. You really were setting the fashion world on fire, weren't you, Pete?"

I roll my eyes. "Firstly, wow. Way to kick my adolescence while it's down, Ms. Watson."

"Okay, you have no defense for the sweatervests."

"I... got cold. Really easily,", I mutter. "And secondly, yeah, I'm completely aware that when it comes to style, I'm about as adept as Wolverine would be at an anger management seminar. But I could have sworn you knew about... y'know... way before I ever told you."

She feigns surrender. "Look, Tiger. All I'm saying is, however it happened, you managed to win me over long before I ever knew about you being him. Or him being you, however it works."

I smirk. "Paging Dr. Frued."

"But my point was, whatever you had to tell me, I remember what I thought you were going to say before you ended up spilling your superhero heart out. Which I definitely did not see coming."

She throws her arms around me, stopping us midway through the walk. I playfully smile back.

"What, you? Taken by surprise? Next you'll be telling me that I look great wearing a used Fantastic Four costume with a paper bag over my head."

MJ narrows her eyes, in that 'stop with the jokes for a second, Peter' kind of way.

"I thought you were going to tell me you loved me. And for some odd reason, I guess I just... came over anyway."

She leans in, and I reciprocate. We have a moment, it's a whole thing. No need to get into the details beyond that. By the time we part lips, I put her forehead to mine and grin. For a guy who's never really had the greatest luck, I sure lucked out when it came to her. I used to have doubts, back when we were dating. Used to think I was dishonoring Gwen, for some reason, by falling for someone else. But ever since the proposal, nothing's ever been in doubt. She's made me comp---

"Wait."

Just as we're about to go in for round two of PDA, I get that terrible buzzing at the base of my skull. The one that just builds, and builds, and keeps building until it turns into a blown out alarm clock on the inside of my brain. There's trouble about, right on que to interrupt my ridiculously great afternoon. Mournfully, I look back at MJ after scanning my surroundings, who looks at me with a puzzled glare.

"Trouble. Somewhere. Happening near here. Feeling it..."

She stops me. "Your senses are going off."

"Yup. That's... what I was failing horribly at conveying."

"Then what're you waiting for, mumblemouth? Get to changing!"

The disappointed glare on my face doesn't leave as our hands break from one another. The last thing I wanted to do today was trade in my jacket and jeans for the red and blue spandex monster waiting underneath them, but I learned a very long time ago that I don't really have a choice in these matters. Duty before pleasure. Action before reward. Ect, ect.

"Right. Love you!"

Before I leap into a clearing underneath to begin shedding my clothes, I hear her response. And it brings the grin right back.

"Go get 'em, Tiger!"

THWIP!

"Your timing sucks, whoever or whatever you are!"

Fully suited up, I leap high and fire a webline out over to a nearby skyscraper and make my way into the deeper city. I can hear alot of screaming coming from the East, but it's faint. Has to be a crowded area, wherever this is happening. Leaping onto the side of a brick wall, I cling to it and scan the area ahead of me. And that's when I see it - big, brown, and absolutely foreboding. A cloud of sand forming over Time's Square.

Yeesh. I already know what that means. And I already know that it's gonna take a good three-to-five washes to get the grains out of this costume. But hey, if there's a Flint to be taken down, there's a Flint to be taken down. You don't get to pick your battles, Spidey. They can't all be as easy as The Shocker.

THWIP!

In half a minute, I've already made it onto the scene, leaping onto a car as it picks up trajectory from the force that Marko's using to form his beach-encrusted body. Webbing it up from both sides, I attach the lines to the front and back of the vehicle and kick it down, knocking the car directly into Marko's back just as he launches some sand-spikes at some person I can't see over the massive green-and-black striped number. The car, of course, doesn't hurt him. But I hope it at least annoyed him. Because I really, really want to annoy this guy right now.

"Hey! I know you!", I shout, perched atop an LED display for Coke. "Wait. Do I know you? It's so hard to keep track of all you villain types. I come across a million of you every week, what with your 'I'll destroy this!' and 'I'll rob that!' and 'I'll snap half of you out of existence with a cosmic oven mitt!' schtick. You all kinda blend together in the ol' noggin."

"Har-har.", Marko replies, ripping the car out of the now formless hole in his body. "I should'a known it was gonna be a matter of time before you showed up, webhead. You're as predictable as the freakin' sun."

Chucking the car my way, I leap onto it, somersault over it, and fire another webline in the direction not threatening any immediate pedestrian safety. The car's likely to land on another rooftop, so I'm not concerned with where that's headed. What I am slightly relieved about is that as I swing by, I notice none other than everyone's favorite star-spangled man with a plan already fighting half of Marko off singlehanded. And doing a way better job of it than me.

"And you're as eloquent as an Alzheimer's patient with rusty dentures.", I fire back. "By the way, I think I remember where I've seen you. It was in that movie, last year. The one with Tom Cruise. You were the sandstorm!"

Making sure to give him a side-eye as I swing ahead, I try not to crap my tights as Sandy becomes a gigantic mountain of swirling meathead.

"Yeah, you sucked in that."

"That's it!"



"You've been makin' fun'a me for too many years, Spider-freak! Soldier-boy can wait! It's way past time that you got the poundin' that you deserve!"

That's it, Spidey. Keep him occupied on you for now, just you. Perfectly destructible-by-way-of-crushing-sand you.

Maybe that'll give Cap some room to do the whole "I'm Captain America and therefore I'm awesome" thing that he does.

Or at least come up with some sort of a plan that'll give us both some breathing room.

"Hey, Flagman! If there's any way that I could help you out, now's the time to make requests!"

" 'course, you was here back when the Dodgers was here, too," he said, his hands turning into masses of quills. "Speakin' of, why dontcha try dodgin' these!!!"

As the quills hardened to jagged rocky spears, Sandman flung them towards the Star-Spangled Avenger, a hail of tiny darts speeding towards the hero in a blur.

Cap's shield returned to him just in time to absorb the impact of most of Sandman's projectiles. Steve said a silent prayer to Howard Stark. His miraculous creation had saved Steve more times than the Avenger could count. Howard could have never dreamed all these years later his shield would still be covering Captain America's six.

Unfortunately, the shield wasn't enough to block all of Sandman's attack. Two of the quills scored grazing blows, one on his right thigh and one on his left calf. Little more than nuisance injuries, but they irked Cap none the less. Marko was nothing more than a punk. Letting him get under the Avenger's guard wasn't something Cap was proud of.

Luckily, something drew the criminal's attention away from Cap. The hero dropped his guard, and saw Spider-Man annoying the supervillain. The two had clashed many times in the past, and if anyone knew how to deal with the Sandman, it was the wall-crawler.

"Hey, Flagman! If there's any way that I could help you out, now's the time to make requests!"

Steve didn't waste any time. He pointed up towards the Hotel Carter, "Secure that sign! I'll worry about Sandman for now!"

Not wasting time to make sure Spider-Man followed his orders, Steve knew the kid would, the Captain took notice of the fire hydrant closest to Sandman. This wouldn't hurt the villain, but maybe it could slow him down until some more help arrived.

"Hey, Flint!" Captain America called out to the villain. "Time to wash your dirt off the face of New York!"

The Star-Spangled Avenger once again tossed his shield, shattering the hydrant and dousing Sandman in a torrent of water.

Steve didn't waste any time. He pointed up towards the Hotel Carter, "Secure that sign! I'll worry about Sandman for now!"

Not wasting time to make sure Spider-Man followed his orders, Steve knew the kid would, the Captain took notice of the fire hydrant closest to Sandman. This wouldn't hurt the villain, but maybe it could slow him down until some more help arrived.

"Hey, Flint!" Captain America called out to the villain. "Time to wash your dirt off the face of New York!"

The Star-Spangled Avenger once again tossed his shield, shattering the hydrant and dousing Sandman in a torrent of water.

"Eye-eye, Capt...!", I enthusiastically salute, stopping myself just short of finishing the sentence. "You know what? Too cliché, even for me."

As Cap vaults towards Sandy-Britches with that perfectly shiny shield that I swear he must polish on an almost hourly basis, I make a beeline, in web-slinging form, for the aforementioned Neon Sign that the good Captain pointed me in the direction of. My Spidey-senses get triggered once again as I notice the cables holding the sign up dwindling down to a thread of itself, ready to snap and crush a few innocent civilians below. I arch into a final swing before letting go, slamming my body into the sign so that it breaks off.

If I can't stop it from falling, maybe I can control where exactly it falls and avoid a catastrophe.

"Make way, people! Make way! Wide load comin' through!"

Firing as much web fluid as I can out of my right web-shooter, possibly draining it in the process, I envelop the sign in as much of the gooey mixture as I can and fire another, thicker webline in the opposite direction, connecting the two ends. Changing the sign's trajectory with my feet, I let gravity do most of the work for me as all manner of terrified people go running in all sorts of different directions.

"C'mon, c'mon..."

Doing a hail mary before I leap, I backflip off of the sign and fire a third webline, kicking it squarely in the direction of a store window. The webbing attached to it brings it's descent from a frighteningly fast drop to a gentle, almost feather-like swing. By the time it lands, it doesn't even break the glass of the storefront. It kinda-barely even cracks it.

Whew. Now I can have a nice heart-attack in peace.

"See, this? This is why I desperately needed a vacation."

Quickly switching out web-cartridges as I charge up the side of a wall, I fire a fresh one out at a crane that's directly overhead the area where the Cap/Sandy brawl is currently underway. Looks like Cap's using the ole' mud-maker move that I've always been fond of myself. Should be enough to give Flint a nice case of mush-toes, which is exactly what we're gonna need to de-escalate the situation.

"Sign's secure!", I yell out to Cap.

When I'm not panicking out of my mind, I'm nothing if not helpful.

Just as I land on a wall to give Cap some barely-needed back-up, I notice the distinct image of civilians in the distance. And they're in the midst of... d... dancing? Lead in the rhythm by an, um, anthropomorphic duck wearing a fancy catcher's mitt?

Was I hit in the head whenever I took care of the out-of-control neon sign, or is this just one of those 'That's New York for ya!' moments?

"One sec. Gotta check my sanity for a minute.", I say, holding out a finger to the already fighting Sandman and Cap, who aren't even paying attention. "I won't be long!"

Swinging over to the sight before me, I notice the familiar frazzled suit-and-tie that the little duck person is wearing. And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. We've met before.

"Harold?", I call out, swinging down. "It's Harold, right? Harold The Duck!"

And suddenly, I can't resist the overwhelming feeling of swaying back and forth.

Man, I was just in Central Park holding hands with my fiancee.

Why did this day suddenly have to get a whole lot weirder? Am I just cursed?

"Annnd... I'm dancing. Why am I dancing? Please, for the love of God, stop me from dancing."

In a fit of rage, the rapidly goopifying Sandman roared and shifted both his fists into large mallets.

"I'll murder ya!"

With a snarl, Marko swung hard with his fists towards Captain America. As Cap raised his shield to take the blow, he was surprised when nothing came. Instead, Sandman's two malleted fists hung suspended in mid-air.

"What the hell?"

Against his own will, Sandman's fists came crashing into his chests before jutting out again, twisting in time with some unheard music. To anyone who happened to be alive in the mid to late 90's, Marko was doing a dance that was very familiar. It had swept the across the world like a plague. But like a fun plague. A plague with a nice beat you could dance to.

"Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macarena," Howard sung in Spanish, the glove pointed in Sandman's direction.

With a look of horror on his face, Marko continued to do the Macarena, a dance that anybody who was anybody in 1995 and 1996 were doing. 1997 if you lived in the rural parts of America. 1998 if you weren't cool. And if you're Canadian, you're still doing it now probably.

"Stop! I hated this ^$#@ing song back when I was in high school!"

"Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegría why cosa buena," sang Howard. "Dale a tu cuerpo alegría, Macarena. Hey Macarena!"

With a flick of Howard's wrist, Marko slammed into his own head with the two malleted fists. The blows sent him toppling to the ground with a powerful thud. His body broke down into a mess of mud and sand.

....awright! Awright, I--*blub*--I give!" Marko sputtered as he tried to reconstitute itself. "I give up! This is--....*glurp*...this isn't what I signed up for! I ain't gettin' paid ta--*splurt*--ta dance fer water-fowl!"

Flint Marko, now little more than a puddle from the shoulders down, could barely keep it together, both figuratively and literally. He'd been looking forward to bragging to the boys about how he'd gone round-for-round with Captain America. As much as he hated him, he could even settle for being taken down by the Web-Head. But a talking duck? This was too much; he'd never live it down.

"I'll tell ya whatever ya want," He groaned, forming just enough of a hand to point up an index finger. "On one condition: nobody, an' I mean nobody hears about this. Anyone asks, Cap'n America beat me. Deal?"

---

....awright! Awright, I--*blub*--I give!" Marko sputtered as he tried to reconstitute itself. "I give up! This is--....*glurp*...this isn't what I signed up for! I ain't gettin' paid ta--*splurt*--ta dance fer water-fowl!"

Flint Marko, now little more than a puddle from the shoulders down, could barely keep it together, both figuratively and literally. He'd been looking forward to bragging to the boys about how he'd gone round-for-round with Captain America. As much as he hated him, he could even settle for being taken down by the Web-Head. But a talking duck? This was too much; he'd never live it down.

"I'll tell ya whatever ya want," He groaned, forming just enough of a hand to point up an index finger. "On one condition: nobody, an' I mean nobody hears about this. Anyone asks, Cap'n America beat me. Deal?"

"You get to say you were beaten by Iron Fist. A whining, nearly pre-pubescent Iron Fist in the middle of a permanent case of whiteboy fro. Those are our terms."

While shaking off the effects of the Macarena-wielding Duck Man's magical mumbo-jumbo, I compose myself enough to leap and land on a fractured piece of wall behind Cap.

"I was gonna go about doing a whole good cop, bad cop thing, but I think you get the idea."



"We're the good cops. The duck? He's the... weird cop. So before he decides to unleash the Harlem Shake on your sandy butt, why don't you start with who hired you to attack Times Square?"

"Okay, enough awready," Sandman grunted, straining to hold enough of his form to talk. "I was contacted, 'bout a week ago. Guy wants ta use me for a job, tells me he knows Cap'n here is gonna be in town today. All's I gotta do is show up at the right time, make some noise, get yer attention. He wires half a mill inta my account the night he calls me, says I'll get the other half afterwards. Easy money."

Already knowing what the follow-up questions will be, Marko continued.

"B'fore ya ask, no, I don't know who it is," he said. "Never met the guy in person, never sawr'is face, only spoke ta him once over a burner phone. Couldn't make out half a' what he was sayin, on account a his real thick accent. Sounded like, I dunno, some kinda Euro-trash."

Forming a crude pair of arms, Sandman held up a pair of hands submissively.

"Tha'ss all I know, swear ta God," he said. "Now lock me up, take me to the Vault or wherever, just get me away from that freakin' duck."

---

Elsewhere....

"Sir, it appears the Sandman has been defeated," an assistant said, nervously.

A pair of gleaming, hateful eyes narrowed as they stared at the screen.

"I can see that, thank you," he said, his icy tone indicating that his subordinate had best be extremely careful for the foreseeable future. "This is no matter; Marko was always meant to be a mere distraction. While I had hoped he could draw the attention of more than just the Captain and a pair of vermin, he served his purpose. Our first target has already been acquired while the heroes' attention was diverted. We shall simply have to proceed with Phase Two more carefully."

"....yes, sir," the assistant said. "And...when shall we begin with that?"

"Immediately. My operative is already in position to begin eliminating targets. Prepare the troops to mobilize."

"Yes, sir."

---

Clue Gained!
The Mastermind speaks with a thick accent

"Okay, enough awready," Sandman grunted, straining to hold enough of his form to talk. "I was contacted, 'bout a week ago. Guy wants ta use me for a job, tells me he knows Cap'n here is gonna be in town today. All's I gotta do is show up at the right time, make some noise, get yer attention. He wires half a mill inta my account the night he calls me, says I'll get the other half afterwards. Easy money."

Already knowing what the follow-up questions will be, Marko continued.

"B'fore ya ask, no, I don't know who it is," he said. "Never met the guy in person, never sawr'is face, only spoke ta him once over a burner phone. Couldn't make out half a' what he was sayin, on account a his real thick accent. Sounded like, I dunno, some kinda Euro-trash."

Forming a crude pair of arms, Sandman held up a pair of hands submissively.

"Tha'ss all I know, swear ta God," he said. "Now lock me up, take me to the Vault or wherever, just get me away from that freakin' duck."

The Sandman's words roll edaround in Captain America's head as the sound of SHIELD helicopters approached from the distance. Whoever hired Marko knew where Steve would be today. That was a worrying thought. Captain America was a lot of things, but surprised was rarely one of them. Did this mean SHIELD had a mole inside its ranks? Was there someone in Brooklyn spying on him? Whatever the case was, the Avenger was not happy to be played like this.

Suddenly, two SHIELD choppers, powered by Stark's repulsor technology touched down in Times Square. From one stepped Sharon, and from the other stepped Cap's friend Phil Coulson. The two approached, and Coulson nodded to the heroes, "Good work. We'll take Marko from here."

"Thanks, Coulson," he nodded to the agent. "I'll be in for a full debrief, but tell Fury that Marko was a distraction. Bait. Someone wanted to lure anyone's attention they could towards him, and away from whatever the real plan was."

As Coulson slipped a pair of power-dampening cuffs on the criminal, Agent 13 gave Steve a kiss on the cheek, "Glad you're okay....is that a duck?"

"Thanks, Spidey. Don't know how we would have handled that sign situation without you," he slapped the younger hero on the shoulder. He always liked Spider-Man. The kid was almost constantly in over his head, yet still managed to make it out of any situation. If Steve was being honest, he reminded him of himself from before the Super Soldier Serum. Spidey was never afraid to tangle with someone way stronger than he was. It was always good to have someone like that on your side.

Rogers then turned to the duck wearing the weird glove, "And...thank you. I take it you were the one that calmed everyone down and had them evacuating safely? And rhythmically?"

I'm there.

It's a Saturday afternoon at Subiaco Oval, standing room only and Nic Naitanui is lining up for goal from outside the 50 metre arc against Collingwood. The final horn has gone and there's a Four'n'Twenty pie in my hand. I can hardly watch in excitement...

It skews off Nic-Nat's boot. I sigh. The pie falls.

I'm there.

Before meat and pastry even sully the concrete in Perth's stadium I'm standing amongst gum trees on the eastern seaboard.

A private Wolfmother concert is taking place on Russell Crowe's estate. It's night time and I'm rocking out to Andrew Stockdale's guitar and vocals as "Mind's Eye" hangs on the night's air.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you have an invitation?"

I turn and see a man in a suit, wearing an earpiece and sunglasses at night.

"Aww yeah, mate. Sorry. I'm one of Rusty's rugby players. He gave us each an invite on the off chance we couldn't play down in Melbourne tomorrow..." I fumble behind me for the "invitation", he becomes less distracted by the words and more interested in the strange light that's being produced behind me.

"...see I wrecked my finger in training. Ah! There it is!"

I step back towards the light source.

"It was this one! Sit and spin, dickhead!" I show him the middle digit, grab my crotch and fall away from the scene, letting my final words "YOU GUYS ROCK!" hang in the air, called by a man who isn't there.

I'm there.

I sit from a distance and watch the sunset across Uluru. I like to catch this every day. I never watch the sun go all the way down though. Kata Tjuta is about 25 clicks to the west and I like to race the sun and watch it finally fall from there. Music still hangs in my ears as I smile, I caught enough of the air that the sound waves were travelling through and second hand drums and guitar cross not just my own mindscape but the physical plane as well.

A perfectly captured moment.

I watch as the sun winks below the sandstone monolith. It's edge ever so slightly obscured to one side.

My hands dance and reality sings.

I'm there.

I see the old man hovering. I look upon the mighty rocks. We perch upon the Mount like old Wanambi whose breath could forge cyclone-force winds. New protectors of this sacred earth.

I look upon the sun and once again it is winking, as it falls below one of the colossal stones. It's not the only thing winking. He approaches. The spy.

"It's time."

I look back to my elder, Gateway.

"Not him. Just you. You're an Avenger now."

His name is Fury. His stern face doesn't show any right now but i could absolutely believe that plenty lies beneath the surface. Hidden. Like much in this man's life.

I turn to farewell my elder but find him gone. The sound of his laughter hanging on the open air. Carried by the winds Wanambi, the protector of the past can control. Fury feels uncomfortable, but he doesn't understand. He's sending me this message by Wanambi's means to tell me that I'm ready. A perfectly captured moment.

I hope I prove the old man right.



I’m there.

“Enough!”

Fury’s anger starts to bubble to the surface. He’s weary of the jumps and just wants to get to our destination.

“Settle down, mate. I’ve never been to Machu Picchu before. So far, I can’t say I see the appeal. I mean sure, it looks like its picture but what exactly does it do? What’s it for?”

“Whatever it does, its doing it now and its not going to do any more or less than we’ve already seen. We’ve got a schedule to keep and we should have been there 4 hours ago.”

“Well, we’re closer than we were, aren’t we?”

“That’s because you took us to the Pyramids first…”

“If the time has come for me to put my life on the line and save the world, universe or what-have-you, at least do me the pleasure of letting me see the Seven Wonders of the World. Look at that bloody furry little camel down there!”

“That’s a llama.”

“I thought that was a Buddhist thing…”

“Not THE Lama. A llama!”

Eden looked quizzically at Fury. “A LLAMA! A LLAMA! Not the Dalai Lama!”

Eden held the same look of confusion as long as he could, before his grin widened and he cracked up laughing.

“This—this has all been a joke for you?”

“I’m sorry… I started off taking the piss and you didn’t seem to pick up on it, so I just had to see how far I could take it. I wanted to see how far you’d indulge me.”

“We went—WE WENT TO PETRA!”

“Yeah… I was sure you’d pick up on what I was doing by then. But nope. We got through all 7.”

“Can. We. PLEASE. Go. To. New York. City. Now.” He spat between gritted teeth. There it is. That’s his namesake, right there.

“Sure, mate. If you’ll allow me one more indulgence…”

“WHAT?!?”

Eden gestured to his own crotch and said just one word…





Eden stepped out of the portal clad in his fresh new uniform and into the vast cityscape of Manhattan, New York. The city that never sleeps, and here he had himself four reasons why… a colourful costumed villain, Captain America, Spider-Man and… Duck…person? He’s a thing, right? Or would it be weird if I asked who he was?

“I’m Manifold, and this here is Nick Fury.”

“That’s not Nick Fury.” Said a woman who was standing with Captain America.

“I’m—I’m pretty sure that it is. He said he was before, and that he was going to one day meet me again and drag me back here for some kind of big mission that was…”

“That’s not Nick Fury.” She repeated.

“Well, he certainly looks like the same Nick Fury who met me before and…”

“It might be. I’ll tell you what. Give his forehead a tap.”

Eden looked at the woman and then at Fury, then back to the woman. “I don’t think he’d like that.”

“Just do it.”

Eden shrugged and poked Fury between the eyes. Then stepped back.

“Are you kid—“ He stepped back in and wrapped on his forehead with his knuckles, causing a distinct metallic sound.

“The big head honcho spy of the free world is a robot..?”

“No. But this Life Model Decoy of him is…” Explained Agent 13.

“How did—How did you know?”

“Well, I’ve met him before. I know him.”

“Well, it is a good likeness.” Said the other spy who was standing with them, who would later be introduced as Coulson. “You know… if it weren’t for the race thing.”

It was at this point that the Duck interjected, “Yeah, well he had me fooled too. But then I don’t see colour. You’re all the same hairless apes to me…”

"Now if you hairless apes are done with this distraction," said Howard, digging through his pockets until he found a scrap of paper. "I should get down to some real work."

Pushing through the group, something that was impressive since he was at least two feet shorter than everyone here, he approached Sandman just as he was being loaded into a SHIELD helicopter by two armor wearing SHIELD agents.

"Marko!"

"Get lost, duck!"

"Where were you on May 3rd, 1996? Were you in Atlanta? Maybe near Fulton County Stadium?"

"What?" Marko furrowed his brow. "I was probably cutting class at PS304, I sure as $#&^ wasn't in Atlanta!"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," said Howard. "Take him away, boys."

"We don't work for you," said one of the SHIELD agents.

"I want a copy of Marko's arrest report on my desk at 0865!"

"That's not a real time," said the other SHIELD agent. "And again, we don't work for you."

Howard had turned away from the helicopter, ignoring their comments and looking out across the city.

"I'm going to get you one day, you fuzz-covered son of a bitch."

In a few seconds, he cleared his throat before he went on comms. “Alright, team. What’s the 411? Is this a ‘Tony, we need you’ thing or what?”

He weakly smirked. “I just want to know because I missed breakfast and I really like to savor those little moments in life.”

The voice of Tony Stark crackled through the comm in Cap's ear just as someone new appeared directly in front of the costume heroes along with Nick Fury. Whoever they were, Cap figured they were alright if they came with Fury. The man may have secrets on top of secrets, but he was usually an impeccable judge of character. Probably why Steve and him got along so well.

Tony and Steve, on the other hand, were a different situation. The two butted heads nearly constantly. He was braggadocios, reckless, and insubordinate, and to Tony, Steve was rigid, boring, and too by-the-book. A pair of complete opposites further apart couldn't be found. Still, if there was anyone Steve wanted next to him in a firefight, it was the Iron Man. They were more like bickering brothers than friends, but they always had each others backs. That's what mattered.

"So nice of you to make it, Tony," Captain America responded to the other Avenger sarcastically. "Just like you to show up after all the work's done. Spider-Man, me, and, uh, a duck took care of Sandman, but he was just a distraction. Might as well swing by Times Square. This may just be phase one."

"So nice of you to make it, Tony," Captain America responded to the other Avenger sarcastically. "Just like you to show up after all the work's done. Spider-Man, me, and, uh, a duck took care of Sandman, but he was just a distraction. Might as well swing by Times Square. This may just be phase one."

"So, we're just... gonna go ahead and pretend the duck being here and manipulating the will to dance was normal. That's good. I'm good with that."

The irony is hardly lost on me as I look down to brush some sand off of my bright red and blue skintight bodysuit covered in webs whilst I walk towards the man literally dressed like the product of a one night stand with Uncle Sam and a Bald Eagle. But I, of course, keep that observation to myself. I mean, I do what I can to help out now and again, but it never gets lost on me that this is Captain freakin' America.

Leader of The Avengers! Biggest hero of World War II! The man who punched Adolf Hitler in the face over 200 times! Though I'm still wondering how the heck that last one's even possible, but who cares? Captain. America. And he thanked me! He actually touched my shoulder and thanked me!

MJ would literally kill to be my shoulder right now!

See, this is why I keep these thoughts at an internal volume at all times. Because that last thought was just admittedly weird.

"Uh, so.", I begin, clearing my throat and trying to sound the least like the weenie that I truly am. "Sandy's clearly not going to be a problem anymore if SHIELD has a hold on him. I mean, if they can hold him. Not that I don't have any faith in SHIELD, I mean, I don't..."

I nervously laugh.

"Hoo, boy. Deep breaths, Spidey."

Looking back at a clearly confused Cap, I shrug.

"What I'm trying to say is, um, I'm sure it'll be fine. You and the big guns'll probably have the guy that hired Sandman in custody by dinner. And while I'd love to stay and help clean things up, chances are that if I stick around any longer, some idiot with a camera is gonna send footage of me being here to the Bugle and I'm going to end up being blamed for all of this. Especially given that Marko and I are usually tussling mano-a-mano. So... we done, here? Uh, sir?"

I don't think awkward begins to cover the spectrum of emotions that I just experienced in that one sentence.

Also, the duck is still here and I'm still trying to get ahold of myself.

His name is Harold, right?

"Uh, so.", I begin, clearing my throat and trying to sound the least like the weenie that I truly am. "Sandy's clearly not going to be a problem anymore if SHIELD has a hold on him. I mean, if they can hold him. Not that I don't have any faith in SHIELD, I mean, I don't..."

I nervously laugh.

"Hoo, boy. Deep breaths, Spidey."

Looking back at a clearly confused Cap, I shrug.

"What I'm trying to say is, um, I'm sure it'll be fine. You and the big guns'll probably have the guy that hired Sandman in custody by dinner. And while I'd love to stay and help clean things up, chances are that if I stick around any longer, some idiot with a camera is gonna send footage of me being here to the Bugle and I'm going to end up being blamed for all of this. Especially given that Marko and I are usually tussling mano-a-mano. So... we done, here? Uh, sir?"

I don't think awkward begins to cover the spectrum of emotions that I just experienced in that one sentence.

Also, the duck is still here and I'm still trying to get ahold of myself.

His name is Harold, right?

Captain America looked the younger hero up and down. He knew that quiver in the kid's voice. He had somewhere to be, more than likely with someone important. Realistically, Spider-Man should stick around. He's in this, one way or another. Steve figured whoever hired Marko was probably watching them at this very moment. That means Spider-Man is a marked man, same as Steve and the Duck.

Still, Steve knew that if Sharon was waiting for him, he'd be as anxious as the younger man was to get out of here. He nodded to Coulson, who took a case out of the SHIELD transport he arrived in. The agent opened it, and from the case Steve pulled two SHIELD communicators. He tossed one to Spider-Man, "Sure thing, Spider-Man. But take this. If my gut is right, we're going to be in touch. I doubt whoever hired Marko will let you out of his web now."

Steve handed the other one to the Duck, "You too...uh...what's your name?"

Steve handed the other one to the Duck, "You too...uh...what's your name?"

"You can call me Howard. Some people call me Howard the Duck, but I find that incredibly rude."

"Why?" asked the SHIELD agent in the suit. "I think it's accurate.."

"Oh, really? What's your name?"

"Coulson."

"Well, Coulson the Receding Hairline Man, accurate can still be hurtful."

"It's not that bad," Coulson muttered, touching his hair.

"Thanks, Captain," Howard said with a nod towards Cap. He held the comm up in his feathered covered fingers. "You do good work. Not as good as Quacktain America, but you do in a pinch."

"Thanks, Captain," Howard said with a nod towards Cap. He held the comm up in his feathered covered fingers. "You do good work. Not as good as Quacktain America, but you do in a pinch."

"Noted, Howard," Captain America smiled at the sarcastic water fowl. He had no idea where the hell the little guy came from, but he certainly had a ton of attitude. Him and Tony would probably get along really well. But Steve had to admit that glove of his was helpful. Maybe not in a straight fight, per say, but sometimes you needed a good distraction, and Howard seemed to be fearless.

"Is it really that bad?" Coulson asked, still fiddling with his hair.

"No it's fine," Sharon reassured the other agent.

"It's not great, Phil," Steve said at the same time, ribbing his friend. He then motioned to the teleporter standing next to Fury's LMD. "Who's the new guy?"

Coulson took his hand away from his hair and shrugged, "Mutant I think. Named Manifold. Teleports. About all I know. You know Colonel Fury. Doesn't like to tell you anything until the last minute."

"The ultimate spy," Agent 13 mused. "Guy would throw the craziest surprise party."

The image of Nick Fury in a party hat floated through Steve's mind, and he let himself have a little chuckle. After a battle it was nice to relax, even though Marko's master was still living in the back of Cap's head. He'd probably be up all night sitting in front of SHIELD's database trying to figure out who was behind the attack.

"Well, I might as well go introduce myself," Cap nodded toward Manifold. He walked over to the new Avenger with an outstretched hand, "Hi. I'm Steve Rogers. Glad to meet you. Always nice to have a new member on the team."