---

---

The mop slapped onto the ground with a pathetic splat. Whistler grumbled, giving Eric the stink eye, as she began the arduous task of scrounging vampire goo off her basement walls and ceiling. The dhampir was still processing what Dale had just said before his untimely demise. He’d expected a standard feeding, cut and dry. Not something like a clan-wide conspiracy. Eric wished for simpler times, where he didn’t have to do night-long patrols without sleep and with Jamal at his side. Being in operation for more than 48 hours was hell on the human body. What normally would be a crash out combined with the worst case of the shits for humans was giving Eric a minor case of migraines. He leaned over and closed his mouth to stifle a yawn.

Whistler chose to smugly comment.

"Thought all you blood-suckers were insomniacs."

"Must be the half-human in me." Blade bit back. "Surprised you haven’t keeled over yet in your old age, Whistler."

"So, what’s next?" Whistler’s voice returned back to steel. All business. No games. Especially whatever just had occurred.

"Right." Eric scratched his chin and walked over to the chair where Dale’s steaming skeleton was still laid. It would take an awful lot of magical know-how to blow somebody up from a mile away. The fact that they were still standing here and not Dale indicated to Eric that it was a blood ritual most likely. Vampires didn’t really practice magic, being the stickler for tradition that they were, but the few arts they did practice mostly were of the ritualistic variety. And nothing was more powerful than a blood ritual which vampires had the reagents to do in spades.

"He mentioned Anchorite." Eric murmured, rubbing strands of muscle in between his fingers. "Whistle, Anchorites are still holed up at the Quarter, right?"

"Please don’t tell me you’re going to go to each head of every vampire clan and try to use this as an excuse to murder them all." Whistler groaned, leaning on the mop handle and looking at Eric exasperatedly.

"It’s called interrogation." Eric replied sheepishly while crossing his arms. "I’ll only do a little bit of staking……"

"We haven’t even asked whether or not our guest is alright with all this. Especially after the blood sucker you dragged in gave my basement a redecoration." Whistler then looked back at Ragwoman with a look that hid worry and searched for intent. "Are you sure you’re still in the game, dear? You still have the chance to get out of this business. It’s a thing to become involved with vampires but becoming involved with the clans is another thing, especially if you get…."

Whistler paused, wiping the side of her neck, whilst Eric finished her response bluntly.

"Don’t worry, Whistle. If she starts getting a taste for the red, I’ll put her in the ground. No offense."

"None taken," Ragwoman replied, her head bobbing beneath the paper bag that she wore over her head. "I don’t plan to become evil incarnate any time soon. There’s still too much grime to wash off the streets of the Big Easy for that to be an option. My suit doesn't take kindly to draining civilians of their blood."

"The rags don’t shy away from fighting evil and neither do I," she added with a nod towards the suit of souls which hung ignominiously, still drying, on a hanger in a corner of the room.

Whistler snorted at the vigilante’s reply, looking at Ragwoman wistfully.

"You remind me of when I was younger."

"And less arthritic," Eric piped up before ducking underneath a stake that Whistler had thrown from her person. It lodged an inch deep into the concrete, the end still reverberating from the impact.

"Well….." Eric coughed awkwardly, trying to avoid Whistler’s murderous glare as he regarded Ragwoman. "We oughta get equipped. My stash’s on the other side of the Bayou and I don’t want to go on another walk again. Is the armory still here, Whistle?"

"Sure thing." Whistler walked towards a cupboard and raised herself, tip-toeing to grab something that twinkled in the dimly lit basement. She grabbed it and lifted it towards Eric, a set of ten brass corroded keys that bore the insignia ‘J.A’. His heart skipped a beat momentarily when he saw those damned letters, swallowing the momentary doubt before accepting it.

"It’s one of these keys. Haven’t been down there in six months. Only go down there once a year to clean it out." Whistler pressed the ring of keys and side-eyed Ragwoman. "I hope you know what you’re doing. Getting her into all this mess."

"Doubt it’ll be more of a mess if she’s involved." Eric then turned around and began to walk up the stairs. "C’mon, follow me, Rags. We need to get you some bloodsucker insurance if you don’t want to be dead by twilight."

"There are worse things than being dead, you know," Ragwoman said, trying her best not to roll her eyes as she followed the vampire hunter.

_{"Second soul, and second one off the sinking ship, is Sekem: energy, power, light.
The director gives the orders, Sekem presses the right buttons."
William S. Burroughs, The Western Lands}

#03 The Inner Light

---

The Xavier Institute, Earth

The campus grounds of the Xavier Institute were verdant and vital, a paradise of carefully manicured lawns, trees, and gardens. A pair of men strolled abreast through the grounds, keeping company with students strewn about reading, eating, or playing about on the lawns. Digestive exercise was best after lunch, Logan had insisted. Xavier had already gone along with his old friend's insistence that they share their lunch outdoors, and so he didn't see the harm in rolling alongside him through the campus grounds. The men chatted idly, returned errant footballs to sporting students, or simply enjoy each other's company in silence.

Xavier did have one complaint, however. "Logan, must you smoke that thing on the grounds?" He asked, withholding his annoyance. His companion looked back at him with interest, and took another pull on his dark, dense cigar. The smell of the thing made Xavier's eyes water. "I don't want the students to pick up your nasty habits. They look up to you after all."

Logan blew a smoke ring up into the air, then looked back to his friend. "Chuck, if outta all my nasty habits, this is the one they pick up," He stretched languidly, like a predator with a full belly, his back and elbows cracking. "We got nuttin' ta worry about." He puffed on his cigar, content.

Their repartee was disturbed by a sudden flash of golden light that appeared before the two men. Logan was quick to act, claws drawn and ready to pounce before the light had subsided. A few students jumped up after, ready to either run or join the fray. When a man emerged from the portal of light, Logan advanced, tensing himself to strike if provoked, before recognition set in. He recognized the aged, bearded visage before him. It had looked much the same for decades, not unlike Logan himself. Still, he was not used to seeing him in a suit, as opposed to a wizardly costume.

"My 'pologies Doc, didn't know we were due for a visit." Logan said, claws retracting as his fists lowered. Kent Nelson simply advanced unflinchingly toward Xavier, sparing Logan a polite nod.

"My, Kent, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Xavier asked, extending a hand to his old associate. While his voice was as genial and unwavering as ever, he could not help but feel Kent's anxiety, and he was troubled by what could be so worrying to Doctor Fate.

"How's the magic biz, Doc?" Logan asked, his chewed-up cigar clenched between smiling, fanged teeth. "Pull any quarters outta excitin' new places?"

As Kent took Xavier's hand, he greeted the men properly, "Charles, Logan, I'm glad to see you're both well." His voice was tense, despite his pleasantries, and Logan then also knew that there was something wrong. "Forgive me for being brusque, but I've come because I need your help." He looked from Charles, to Logan, and then back to Charles. "If we could speak privately, just for a moment."

Logan said nothing, but looked to Charles, who looked straight back at him. The two shared a glance, and Logan sighed and turned on his heel. No telepathy necessary. "Well, guess I'll take a walk while you boys talk shop. Don't take too long or you'll hurt my feelin's."

|Kent, what the devil is going on?| Xavier asked telepathically, as there were still students within earshot, looking on curiously. His demeanor was cool as ever, but he colored his broadcasted thoughts with alarm and concern.

|I have a problem... of a highly personal nature.| Kent was unsure of how best to describe the issue to Xavier, not sure of how to express magic phenomena to the scientifically-minded mutant. Telepathic communication was oftentimes more confusing than speech, as unfocused thoughts could come across as an indecipherable stream of consciousness. |I believe someone- or something- is tampering with the past. My past.|

|I see. And you want me to check if your memories are real... Or if they have been tampered with as well?| Kent was already relaxing his many mental defenses, slowly allowing Xavier access to the deeper recesses of his mind.

|Yes. You're the only person who can help me, Charles.| Charles Xavier was likely the only telepath on the planet powerful enough to sift through Kent's burdensome library of memories, or determine if they were implanted, other memories suppressed. More importantly, he was a good man, and Kent Nelson trusted him.

|I will try. Come closer. Is there a particular memory I should start with?| Kent knelt before Xavier, who placed a hand on the other man's head.

|Only one you need to check at all. Seventeenth of May, Ninteen-sixty. It was the late evening. Sunset.|

---

Tell el-Muqayyar, Earth

Kent Nelson had not been this excited since he was parachuting behind enemy lines in Tunisia. That was twenty years in his past, and he had left the world of weapons and warfare behind. He was now a scholar, an explorer of history, and his triumphs were discoveries, rather than victory in battle. After months of hard work, his greatest triumph was now at hand.

Radio imaging technology had been a godsend for archeologists like himself. Radar that had been developed to detect German planes could now be directed into the ground, and used to map out subterranean chambers that were hidden from view. Kent had the distinct privileged of being the first archaeologist to use this exciting new technology on the ruins of Ur, deep in the valley of Sumer. Iraq's recent revolution had thrown the country into an uproar which had still not subsided, and so it was difficult for foreign scholars to gain access to these treasured ruins. Kent knew a few expatriate friends living in the region, old army friends, who pulled enough strings to allow him access, and the opportunity had been more than worth it.

Radio imaging had been fruitful, there were chambers hidden beneath sand and cave-ins, waiting for Kent to uncover their secrets. He was not alone, however. His wife, Inza, and son Khalid had both joined him on the expedition, and he could not have been happier to have them with him. They (and a team of Iraqi workmen) had toiled for weeks to clear away the sand and debris, nothing but hard work with shovels, buckets, and pulleys. Kent worked until his hands bled, and the sun turned his skin from pink, to red, to dusty brown. Khalid worked with him, a strapping lad of twenty, he had taken the semester away from University at Oxford to share in his father's quest for discovery.

After what felt like endless weeks of toil, they had finally broken through to the lower chambers of Ziggurat of Nammu. The flooded chambers had been cleared away, and they could access the chambers adjoining them, as well as study the cultural remnants that had been buried in the sand. The sun had already dipped behind the lip of the Euphrates river valley, and Inza worked by lantern light, cataloging artifacts and taking charcoal rubbings of inscriptions. Kent and Khalid worked nearby, shoveling a bank of sand away from a door by torchlight. At first they thought it would lead into an antechamber, but the radar told them that there was nothing behind the wall. Either it was a closet, a coffin, or a door to a room completely filled with sand, they were determined to find out.

Once the door was clear, Kent called his wife over to join them. Khalid took up a crowbar to try and pry the stone door loose, and Kent held his wife tenderly about the shoulders. He wondered in that moment if he was the luckiest man alive, to be there with his loving family, in the midst of a historic discovery. The passageway opened, the stone door thudding to the floor, and blinding, golden light poured into the dingy chamber. Kent could do nothing but try to shield his eyes from the oppressive light, falling to his knees as the light seemed to carry weight, or pressure. The only thing besides the light that Kent was even conscious of was a strange voice calling out in a language he did not understand.



After the voice subsided, the oppressive nature of the light changed, becoming less harsh and punishing. Kent was no less blinded, and still on his knees, but he no longer felt the need to shield his eyes, and no longer felt a weight pushing him down. The voice called again, this time in English, though with a strange accent and meter.



The voice was otherworldly, it made Kent's teeth rattle in his skull, but it carried no trace of anger or malice that he could detect. He felt in that moment much like an ant under the searing gaze of a magnifying glass. "I am... a historian! A scholar!" He yelled into the light. "I have come seeking knowledge, discovery. I seek the truth!" He wasn't sure why he was yelling this sort of thing back at the godlike presence, but it felt like the right thing to say, and it was the truth, so he felt there was no harm in what he told it.

The light died down at last, leaving only a glowing, golden aura emanating from the doorway Khalid had opened. It was inviting, dancing rays of golden light entrancing to watch, but Kent's attention was elsewhere. Inza and Khalid were nowhere to be seen. The only trace of them were their clothes, crumpled on the floor where they had been standing. Khalid's clothes had a discarded crowbar haphazardly dropped on them. All else that was left in the chamber was sand, twirling and settling about the room. As he was already on his knees, Kent dropped to all fours in shock. Just like that, it had all been ripped away from him. It had taken less than an instant, seemingly, and he wasn't even aware of it happening.

The golden presence called back to Kent, wordlessly, inviting him to its realm. He looked up at the portal, channels of tears cutting clean streaks across his dusty cheeks. There was much to be done, he knew now. Slowly, he got up from the ground, dusted off his pants and his hands, and strode straight into the portal to meet his Fate.

---

Kent and Xavier both opened their eyes, the awoken memory both fading from them like a dream after waking. Xavier was silent, graven-faced. Kent's eyes stung, but he blinked back his tears, standing back up to face his friend. Finally, after tense moments of consideration, Xavier said, |It's not a false memory, Kent. That night in the ruins, that was real. That was you.|

Kent sighed. He was relieved by Xavier's analysis, but less than he thought he would have been. This still meant he had a very significant problem. |Thank you, Charles. This means more to me than... Well, you know what it means. I have to go.|

|Of course. Be safe, my friend.|

With a final nod goodbye, Kent Nelson vanished in another flash of light. Logan came swaggering back not long after, finding Xavier still in the same place, deep in thought. He took his cigar from his mouth to tap off the ashes, and asked, "So, what did the good Doctor want from you?"

"He just needed to touch base with reality." Xavier said, his stoic countenance back in place.

"Man, who doesn't?" Logan chuckled, before chomping back down on his cigar. He flinched, finding that his stogie suddenly had the taste and hardness of metal. He spat it out, finding that a roll of quarters in a wrapper had taken the cigar's place. Logan grumbled something about magicians being sawed in half, Xavier said nothing, and the two men continued their afternoon stroll.

She-Hulk: Multiversal Mayhem Tie-In #3
Location - Times Square, Manhattan, New York City, New York.
Interactions: @Zoey Boey

---

The streets of Manhattan were still chaos, but it was slowly becoming a less one sided chaos with the arrival of more and more heroes. The squads of dominators that were patrolling the streets were not as free to hunt down and pick off groups of civilians as they had been, and there was at least some presence of air support growing. A large group of dominators had a group of civilians pinned down in a building, their weapons aimed right at the walls they were hiding behind. These weapons would burn right through those walls, only the poor civilians didn't know that. Before they could She-Hulk with a leap placed herself between the wall and the dominators. Concrete cracked underneath upon landing and the dominators hesitated for a moment before firing their weapons at She-Hulk.

The impact of the blasts from the dominators weapons made her grind her teeth. She could feel the energy tear through her skin and bite away at the muscles underneath. The blasts were not able to make it past the muscles, and the skin regenerated quick enough that the dominators likely wouldn't even know it was damaged. She-Hulk didn't have to imagine what would happen to a normal person if they got hit by one of those, she saw the bodies of some of these aliens victims, they had been a harrowing sight.

The Wasp shot down several dominators with blasts from her stinger while skilfully evading any shots fired her way. The dominators attention was split allowing She-Hulk to close the distance between her and the aliens, not that they could have stopped her anyway. She grabbed the first by the head and threw him up into the air for Wasp to finish off. The next she planted a boot to their chest sending them soaring back into the building across the street, there was a splat on the wall. Aiming for the red dots She-Hulk threw powerful punches to several of the dominators sending them sprawling, the Wasp continued to provide cover fire and swiftly finished off many aliens out of She-Hulks reach.

The sound of small fighter vessels could be heard from above, both from S.H.I.E.L.D and the Dominators. Grabbing a nearby car She-Hulk patiently waited for the right moment. Throwing the car high up into the air a small dominator vessel crashed right into it, sending it crashing down to the streets below. Sprinting towards the site of the crash She-Hulk and the Wasp arrived before any survivors could make their way out. Grabbing hold of the small dominator ship She-Hulk threw part of it back into the air crashing into another small dominator vessel it too now falling to the streets below. A squad of dominators began to fire on She-Hulk and the Wasp from a rood above. Blasts hit She-Hulk in her shoulder and her neck, the Wasp again avoided being hit. They didn't sting as much as before. Then the dominators turned a mounted weapon down towards the two of them.

She-Hulk rose her arms blocking the oncoming large ball of energy, the impact of the large blast pushed her back but she held her ground. With anger in her eyes she zeroed in onto the dominators on that roof. Leaping up to the roof she took hold of the mounted weapon and tore it apart. Crumpling up parts of it in her hands and throwing them at the red dots on their heads. "Those really do make good targets." She said as Wasp mopped up several of the dominators with her stingers.

From the roof She-Hulk looked down on the streets below. 'We can deal with these creeps all day.' She thought to herself as her gaze shifted to the sky above with it's many rifts. 'But it won't count for much unless we do something about that...'

Luckily for She-Hulk she was fighting alongside someone who just happened to be a genius. She let out a chuckle in response to the Wasps 'step one' of her plan to solve this invasion. "Yeah, well if it's one thing we Avengers know how to do it's make a dramatic entrance. Although to be honest I think I got to work on my poses a bit more been feeling a sloppy lately." She-Hulk leaped down off the roofs down onto another group of dominators, the Wasp followed closely behind.

Not all of them were paying attention to what was going on above them, as She-Hulk almost flattened two on landing. "You folks really can't take a message can you?" She-Hulk with a swipe knocked several of the dominators off their feet, as She-Hulk turned she saw the Wasp getting in some hand to hand combat of her own. "Mixing it up are we huh, that isn't a bad idea actually." She-Hulk said as she grabbed the weapon from a dominators hands before aiming it. "Ah you know what, it doesn't feel right." She said as she crumpled up the gun before throwing it to the side, instead giving a good punch to the dominators once more.

Once they cleaned up that squad of dominators Janet dropped part two of her plan on She-Hulk. Time-and Space mishap she felt like she kind of understood. 'Huh, so these are the same dominators as all those years ago...? Or maybe from the future...' Quantum Coordinates though, that bit went over her head. "Y-yeah I guess if anyone would it would be you. She-Hulk responded to the comment about the unstable portals.

Then there was step-three of Janet's plan... 'Oh. I knew I was forgetting something... She-Hulk took the Avengers communicator out and lightly tossed it to the Wasp. "All yours Jan, probably better in your hands than mine. She-Hulk grinned when a thought came to mind. "And hey, maybe Hawkeye would be up for taking care of little Reptar there."

As soon as Captain Danvers showed up in order to help secure the ship, Steve and his team leapt into action. Goliath rose up in the air, swatting at passing Dominator ships as if they were flies. Carefully catching them with his other hand and placing them down again in an attempt to minimise damage. Falcon flew ahead of him in an effort to try and lure the ships directly towards the giant. Meanwhile, Union Jack and Black Widow jumped straight into the fray in order to take down as many dominators as possible.

Steve ducked undercover as another bolt of plasma came racing towards him, adjusting himself slightly as the stun shot followed it. Sneaky. Like they had years ago they seemed to be trying to take prisoners, the difference was that they were better prepared now than they had been. With the ship being restrained the second one seemed unable to come through the breach and with Parker homing in on the location that seemed to be causing the disturbances it was only a matter of time before they wrapped this whole thing up.

Twisting he threw his shield, feeling his backache as he did so. The metal disk bounced off a lamppost, rebounded off a nearby wall and collided into a row off Dominators, as it was finding its way back Steve ran towards it catching it on his arm. Turning into it he spun around, using the momentum of the shield, and released it for a second hit towards the faltering aliens. There was a roar of engines overhead as Falcon flew over, chased by Dominators which were in turn flanked by F-35s.

Steve brushed himself off as he took cover by an abandoned police cruiser. Tapping into his main earpiece in order to gather a lay for the land and how it was developing. The Unknown Spider-hero and Superboy had wrapped up the situation in Brooklyn, while the X-Men appeared to be on the scene in Queens which meant that the biggest threat was now the Dominator ship and the threat of a second one looming at the edge of the portal.

”Spider-Man to Avengers… I’ve got a location on the source of the portals. I’m ready to move in and secure it, but could use a ride from the Liberty and some backup. In order to close the portals, we’re going to need data from them so we can try to reverse what made them. If all goes well… pizza is on me tonight.”

Steve had to suppress a smile. Parker always managed to pull through for the team, if he could make the kid a full-time S.H.I.E.L.D agent he would, but so far he had been reluctant. Steve tapped his own earpieces - "Spider-Man this is Rogers. The Falcon is on his way to pick you up. Walters if the reports are accurate and you're with the Wasp give her my greetings, and then give her cover to do whatever science mumbo-jumbo she can come up with. Danvers, if you can spare the power see what your ring can tell us. The more information we can get the better."

Steve heard a large bolt of plasma coming towards him, and barely had enough time to get his shield facing the car before it exploded casting him into the air. Landing with a heavy thud he felt the wind knocked out of him. Opening his eyes he struggled to get his vision into focus, or the ringing in his ears to stop. Sitting up slowly he saw a pair of Dominators approaching him guns drawn at the ready. Only to be swatted away at the last second by Goliaths hand.

That was close. Was all Steve could concentrate on.

Thank you for tuning in to WHUB. Tonight a small group gathered around the offices of the Hub City Chronicle for a candlelight vigil, staff members coming together in memory of one of their own. Today marks the fifth anniversary since his disappearance. WHUB’s own Miriam Weisner-Martinez has the story.

“Vic was a lot of things. He was a great colleague, a good friend, and -- because of his job -- a professional pain in the butt.”

That’s Nora Lace, editor in chief of the Hub City Chronicle. She’s one of over a dozen people here tonight to remember investigative reporter Victor Sage on the anniversary of his disappearance. A native of Hub City who joined the paper right out of college, Sage was known for his in-depth investigations on municipal affairs. In 2014, Sage and the Chronicle were nominated for a local reporting Pulitzer after the ten-part series on O’Neil County’s dysfunctional and underfunded jail system.

In 2016, Sage seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Lace says that while Sage was prone to long absences in the name of his work, a move like this was completely out of character.

“Vic was a newshound, you know? When he was working on a story we may not see him for a week at a time. So we were used to not hearing anything from him at first. We thought he'd check in eventually. But Al was the one who came to me with some concern that Vic wasn’t okay.”

Al being Al Kert, head of the Chronicle’s multimedia department who at the time was feature editor, the one person on the paper who worked closely with Sage.

“Vic and I kept in touch pretty regularly when he was working on a story, just bouncing ideas back and forth. It got to almost a month and I hadn’t heard from him. I started texting, getting bounce backs from my message. Then I started to call. His number was no longer in service.”

A welfare check by HPD found that Sage’s apartment was still filled with his belongings and no signs of either a struggle or a hasty attempt to pack and leave. All his earthly possessions, save a laptop, were still in the apartment. When asked about the matter, HPD issued no comment as it was still an active missing persons case.

But the question is, what was Sage working on in the weeks leading up to his disappearance? Lace doesn’t know and even Kert, Sage’s closest confidant, is in the dark.

“That was Vic. We collaborated, but only after he had the framework -- the bare bones -- of a story. That part could take months to form. So whatever the new topic was at the time, he never let me in on it.”

Could who or whatever Sage was investigating be behind his sudden disappearance? Five years on there’s really no way to tell, but that hasn’t stopped Lace and the rest of the Chronicle’s staff from gathering here tonight to remember their lost colleague, and to hope for his safe return.

“Wherever Vic is, I hope he’s safe. And I hope one day he’ll come back to us with one hell of a story.”

Reporting downtown for WHBU, I’m Miriam Weisner-Martinez.

---

Ditko Terrace Homes

“Oh, shit, it’s 12!”

Hasseem cursed and looked out the window. Sure as shit, a black SUV was parked on the lawn of the courtyard and six men in cop uniforms were rushing towards the door. Railand, the young boy BMF used as a lookout, was already hauling ass down the street now that he’d warned the men inside the stash house what was coming.

He did a quick mental inventory of what was inside the bungalow style project house. At least twenty kilos of heroin, another ten keys of uncut cocaine, about twenty grand in cash, and enough weapons to overthrow a small Caribbean nation. Hasseem knew he and the four other guys at the stash house were about to go away for a long time. He just wondered who had fucked up and not given the police their kickback?

“On the ground, motherfuckers!” One of the cops yelled as the door flew open.

Hasseem looked down the barrel of an honest to god AK47. The cop flipped him over with a hard kick to the ribs. He gasped for air as he felt zipties constrict around his wrist.

“Meech paid you motherfuckers off,” Hasseem gasped. "You want more?"

“Shut the fuck up, pendejo,” the cop growled.

Something about the choice of words gave Hasseem pause. It was like it unlocked something in his brain. He started to piece things together as he watched the other cops spread out through the stash house. AK-47 sure as shit wasn’t standard issue for no police Hasseem had ever seen. And then there was the makeup of the cops here. All latino. No blacks and no whites, and no way in hell Hub City had some unit that was all minority. Hasseem caught sight of some ink on one of the cops forearms. A stylized LD with three tally marks beneath it. Hasseem cursed when he saw the tat. LD stood for Los Discípulos, the three tally marks stood for the gang member’s body count thus far.

“Fuck,” Hasseem screamed. “These motherfuckers ain’t cops. They goddamn LD!”

That was when all hell broke loose. The BMF guys not already restrained started for their weapons, the “cops” did the same. Hasseem started to wiggle around in a fruitless attempt to break his restraints. There was a crash of glass and something flew through the house with a loud hiss. Gunfire broke out just as gas filled the room. Hasseem coughed and tried to see through it all. Somebody stepped over his prone body and rushed into the gas. He heard a rapid burst of gunfire, followed by screams. One of the LD members flew through the air and crashed through a glass coffee table beside Hasseem. More gunfire, more yells of pain and thuds.

Hasseem squinted as he saw someone step out of the gas cloud.



“Question: What kind of bird doesn’t fly?”

Hasseem screamed at the sight of the faceless man.

“A jailbird.”

The man drove Hasseem's head into the floor, knocking him out in one swift movement.

T H E B A T M A N
T H E B A T M A N

---

^{In collaboration with @Hillan as Jason Todd}

Standing at the foot of an old man's grave, Bruce Wayne felt very young indeed.

Despite decades of war, hard-earned victories and valiant losses, all the marks and scars and dead bodies left along the way, when Bruce looked down at the face of the man who'd shot his parents down in that alleyway all those years ago, he'd felt nothing but the heavy, sad heart of an eight-year-old boy collapse within him. A boy who needed a father then, who needed a father now; but as he pushed back his cowl with a weary hand, he felt that this was the true difference between what he had become then, and what he was now: when Thomas had died, Alfred became what Bruce so desperately required. And now Alfred had gone, there was no one left to comfort the grieving child.

Bruce knelt before Alfred's headstone in the grounds of Wayne Manor, planted solemnly beside that of Thomas and Martha. He pulled his gauntlet from his hand and splayed his fingers out across the cold earth, feeling the grass reach up to meet his skin and brush the callouses and scars that littered his palm. The night was cool and crisp, the sky clear; the moonlight illuminated the ground in a ghostly pale willow, and off in the distance, he could hear the sounds of his city crying for him, crisis looming over the skyline. But Wayne Manor was on the outskirts, at the edge of county limits, and right now Gotham seemed so very far away...

"He died tonight, Alfred. I didn't think he could again, but seeing his face..." Bruce's voice was low - barely a whisper - and he was as much talking to himself, manoeuvring through his own tumultuous psyche, as he was to his departed father. "All this time, I thought he was at peace, resting. But when I saw Chill's body...Bruce Wayne, that little boy in that dark alley, he died again. He wasn't resting, he was just waiting. All of this...posturing," he gestured vaguely to his own suit, seemingly disgusted by it momentarily, "it was just dramatics to cover up the true desire. I've never killed, Alfred, but I never realised how much I craved vengeance until it was snatched away from me. What if there's no point anymore? When Bruce Wayne dies, what's left?"

From out of the shadows of the big oak tree, a ghost emerged, clad in a black suit and tie with a woollen coat draped over his shoulders. The ghost was quickly revealed as Bruce’s lost son; the child Bruce had failed more than any, the one he couldn’t save, the one he never understood. Jason spoke; everything about the way he moved showed clearly that he had no intention to fight his once-upon-a-time mentor. Not today.

“A world better off because a kid decided he would rather scar his knuckles saving the world, than burning it to the ground.” Jason let out a slight smile. “I’m sorry, Bruce.” A heaviness to his words, confiding his grief in the feelings Bruce was having. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t the one to kill him. For you.”

Bruce stood, donning his gauntlet and cowl once again. Even now, with all the wisdom of history, he still found himself putting up the old walls, closing off emotion in favour of disciplined stoicism. It wasn’t what Jason had needed then; wasn’t what he needed now. And yet, faced once again with his wayward son, Bruce found himself...lacking. He could only offer a weary sigh, a great deflation of his spirit, that betrayed all the physical ceremony.
“I don’t want to talk about death, Jason. Not today. Not here.”

“I’m sorry about Alfred. I didn’t have the chance to visit. I was so far deep underground when he passed, I only found out a couple of weeks ago.” Jason put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “In many ways, ways that count, Alfred was my dad, too. Anything good in me. I got it from him.”

Bruce took a long, measuring look at Jason.
“Anything good in you was already there. It’s why I took you in. Alfred just helped you see it.”
There was a pause; Bruce was rarely so affirming with his proteges. He turned away before he spoke again.
“It’s just a shame you had to bury it with anger.”

Letting go of Bruce’s shoulder, Jason took a step back.
“Joker buried me and that anger.” He retorted, quickly, regretting it as soon as he said it. He sighed and looked at Alfred’s headstone, his eyes wandering the row of fallen family. They fell to his own name on one of the stones. He scoffed.

“I was an orphan, growing up in Crime Alley. Dad’s a crook and mom's a junkie. I was going nowhere without you. Grayson never would’ve taken your wheels, and that intrigued you. You gave me a chance, and a house, and for all of my anger, I’m grateful. I’m sure Dick and the new kids are, too. But you turned us into your personal orphan army, Bruce.” Jason got angrier with each word he spoke, gritting his teeth as his eyes burned into Bruce’s. Leaning backwards, he eyed the ground, regaining his composure.

“Sure, you’d watch a movie with me once in a blue moon after a night of patrol as I fell asleep on the couch. But Alfred helped me with homework. He took care of me when I was sick. He made me watch every episode of Doctor Who with him, because he believed there was more to education than criminology and forensics." Jason’s eyes wore heavy, his fist clenching.

“When I came back, I spent so much time sitting on that rooftop next to the Wayne Enterprise penthouse. At the height of my madness, before my grand plan, when all there was to me was that same angry boy you caught stealing your wheels - I had my .50cal leaning against the railing and you in my sights. Everyday. Every meeting. For weeks. But do you know what stopped me, every time, from pulling the trigger? Thinking about how it would break the old butler's heart.”

From behind the lenses of the cowl, the Batman met Jason’s stare.
“I know.” Was all he said, and all the tension in the air went away. “And I’m sorry. I thought what you needed was a purpose, a mission. I was too deep in my own war to realise that you were children, not soldiers. Tim, Dick, Barbara...they all outgrew me. Damian and Cass are still getting there...but you never got the chance. The Joker cut the heart from this family when he did what he did to you. But you were the one who reopened the wound.”

There was a pause; the two men stood at an impasse, their decision not to fight resulting only in verbal sparring instead. Bruce was tired, and off in the distance the cries of his city weighed heavily on his mind, fraying already-thin patience. He extended an olive branch.
“Your deal with Waller. I know it doesn’t mean much to you...but I’m glad. I never wanted to put you in a cage, Jason, but you left me no other choice.”

The former Robin scoffed, surprised at this showing of emotion from Bruce. “Sometimes you have to put the rabid dog down… I just didn’t stay down.”
Bruce ignored Jason’s barb.
“I’m happy that you get a chance at...at redemption, away from Gotham. But if it overwhelms you again...if you find yourself faltering...” Bruce took a breath.
“You gave me a house, Bruce. But Alfred made this a home…” Jason cut his once-mentor off, sighing as a soft smile crept up his sombre face. “But one day… Maybe it could be a home again.”
Bruce nodded solemnly. He didn’t have the heart to correct Jason, and instead his gaze drifted towards the grand outer walls of the mansion.
“Wayne Manor will always be here for you; for all of you. It will shelter you, keep you safe, offer you a place to sleep.” Bruce let his eyes fall back to the headstone.

“But I fear it hasn’t been my home in a very long time.”

There was an aged sadness in Bruce’s voice that gave Jason hesitation to speak again.

_{Location: Queens - New York City}

Multiversal Mayhem #1.03: Monster Party

---

Spider-Man stood in his prototype armor, windmilling his arms as he got used to the added weight. ”Definitely going to need to work on the exoskeleton. Need to cut down the weight and redistribute it better. In the meantime… cycle through the armaments real quick..” He watched as a small icon in the corner of his HUD flashed between a small pellet, a lightning symbol, and a fire extinguisher. He felt, underneath the armor, the built in magazines quickly rotate and switch in place. He nodded and looked out over the carnage taking place throughout the city… his city. He held his left wrist out in front of himself, and a small translucent keyboard appeared in his HUD. After quickly typing in a URL, he pulled up a couple of social media feeds and began cycling through the data. He had done his best to ignore everything going on to try and hunt down the source of these portals up until now, and that building dread was eating him alive.

With a few filters and tags sorted through, Peter scrolled through a living memorial of the day’s events. He watched a T-Rex in Times Square was kicked into the air by an ally presumed dead years ago, before joining the She-Hulk and Clint to deal major damage to the Dominators that haunted New York a decade before. He watched the Dominator’s warship shackled and thrown by a Green Lantern and a… purple lantern maybe? It was always hard to keep up with them these days. The most shocking sight, however, was a single picture of a familiar black vest with a white skull painted on. A vest Peter was hoping to never see in town again, but something he would have to deal with later. Castle was surely having a field day, but if there was any day to see the vigilante, this was the best one. Last, but not least, though, was a certain boy in red and blue. He lived up to the hype, and looked like a natural. Stronger and faster than Spider-Man ever was, but Superboy's youth and charm reminded Pete of what it was like being the Avengers poster-child back in the day.

Peter stopped scrolling through the feed, turning his eyes away for a moment as a small blue circle appeared in his vision from down below the Helicarrier. His ride was coming. But as Peter’s eyes drifted back to the feed before closing it, he froze. A quick video was autoplaying without sound. Someone in white had some sort of white rope lashed against a Chitauri weapon, pulling him close. But the fighting style is what had made Peter pause. She ducked under plasma fire as if on instinct, and used momentum and strength to incapacitate the two aliens. And that was only the beginning. He quickly followed the thread, and saw other videos. Web swinging, running into a burning building, crawling on walls… it was like he was watching a tape of himself. For the first time, there was someone else just like them. And instinctually, Peter could feel his muscles tense as he recognized some of the buildings in Brooklyn. He had so many questions…

The blue circle had drawn close, and Peter could see the familiar winged hero swooping up towards him. Spider-Man shook his head, closed out of his internet browser, and jumped off the edge of the Helicarrier. As he fell past the Falcon, he fired two quick weblines up towards Falcon’s chest, manuevering to wrap the webs underneath his arms to create a sort of harness to hang from. ”What, did we run out of Quinjets already? Don’t tell me they cut the Avengers budget again.”

Falcon shook his head, swooping downwards to pick up speed as the pair headed towards Queens. "You've just been upgraded to First Class on Falcon Air, Spider-Man, nonstop to Queens."

Peter chuckled quietly to himself as he relaxed in his makeshift harness. This wasn't the first or last time he's had to hitch a ride on the birds and stripes, and he instead spent this time focusing on the chaos below. Kroloteans weren't particularly dangerous looking, but their overabundance in the borough was enough to make Peter's head spin. The little green aliens seemed to be causing as much chaos as possible, with very little goal or drive from up here. And as much as Peter wanted to do what he was best at, he could see Xavier's boy and girl scouts evacuating people in a relatively organized manner. The next generation was stepping in, it seemed. Within moments it seemed, the two Avengers swooped into a residential area.

Peter quickly reached to his utility belt and tapped a small switch, and the webbing harness he had created dissolved in moments. He fell into a backflip before three point landing in the middle of the cozy development, while Falcon folded in his wings and came to a running landing. Peter's eyes hovered over the area, and he gave Falcon a nod. "Lots of little green men in the area, but it looks like most civilians were evacuated. I'm going to sweep the area, just to make sure everyone got out. You should get back in the sky and see if you can trace where the signal is coming from. This should be tuned in to the right frequency." Peter pulled a small handheld meter with a few antennas on the end from his belt, tossing it to Falcon before turning his attention back towards the Kroloteans nearby.

Two Kroloteans peeked their heads around the corner of an old sedan parked on the street, lifting their claws and bearing their teeth before dashing out towards Peter’s back. As he felt the familiar tingle along his spine, Spider-Man vaulted into the air and fired off two burst of webbing, slamming the two aliens into the ground and restraining them. This, unfortunately, only seemed to embolden their allies. Five began rushing in from various directions, and Peter just smiled as he fired a webline at one of them. It looked confused, and then began to shriek in fear as Spider-Man hoisted the alien into the air and swung himself around. The captured alien was used as both a hammer and shot-put as it collided with the heads of four of its own kind, before being let loose to fly into the wall of a home. And yet, more and more seemed to be scampering out from the backyards of the nearby houses. Peter reached up to his left wrist and made a quick swiping motion, and the small display on the bottom left of his HUD switched from a clip-art icon of a web to a small pellet.

”I know you all travelled a long way to get an autograph. Hopefully you’ll settle for a little souvenir.”

Red Robin #10 - Before the looking glass
Location - Gotham City, New Jersey.

---

By the time Red Robin had taken himself to the skies, Gotham City had already fallen into chaos below him. The breakout at Arkham Asylum had thrown everything into disarray, with the HUD in his cowl buzzing with information more and more by the second. Emergency services were scrambling, as police transmissions, CCTV footage, and the occasional social media post flashed before Tim’s eyes, giving him a rudimentary view of the carnage as he swung back towards the Belfry.

Tim was already tired enough after his attempts to deal with Mr Freeze mere hours ago. His side still ached ever so slightly from the blast he'd received during the scuffle. He couldn't let that bother him now. He had a job to do.

Whilst a number of the escaped Arkham inmates were already finding themselves boxed in by the initial blockades set up by GCPD, from what Tim could see, a few had already begun to spread out around the city. Thankfully, none of these reports detailed anything too dangerous, with the majority of them already being followed up on. Tim wished he could do more himself, yet he knew that given the large scope of this problem, the best place for Red Robin right now was coordinating the rest of his “co-workers” from the Belfry. Someone needed to manage this mess, and he had the perfect tools for doing so. If not, then those hours of tinkering with the Bat-computer would’ve gone to waste.

Still, he felt guilty. What if his inaction led to someone getting hurt? Or worse?

That worry soon came into fruition, however, as the sound of gunfire rang out on the streets below him. Snapping his eyes away from the information feed, he quickly turned his attention to the ground, where a small skirmish was currently taking place. Adjusting the swing of his grappling hook, the vigilante landed elegantly atop a fire escape, giving himself the space to take in everything before him.

Deever and Dumfree Tweed, two cousins with an uncanny resemblance to one another, had plagued the streets of Gotham for years. They weren’t big names within the criminal underworld, with the two often finding themselves working as muscle for hire for a number of Gotham’s worst. Strong and durable, the two were the perfect enforcers. It was during their time under the Mad Hatter, Jervis Tetch, that the two began to model themselves after Lewis Carroll's Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Whilst that partnership had ended long ago, the two cousins still carried that moniker, continuing their schemes in matching outfits reminiscent of the Alice in Wonderland characters.

Today, those flamboyant outfits were replaced by the orange jumpsuits of Arkham Asylum.

The duo stood boldly within the smashed in window of a storefront, firing out wildly as the street before them. Two police cruisers, now riddled with bullet holes, sat clumsily across from them, as their occupants hid for cover behind.

It was clear the two weren’t being apprehended again without a fight. What more, Tim knew that if he didn’t get involved soon, that fight would ended up much bloodier than it needed to be.

Gritting his teeth, Red Robin swung down into the fray.

Bloodletting 1.3.1

Moonlight skittered over Manhattan and behind it, the night followed. The smell of gutter water and mouldy newspapers infested the Lower Bronx and flooded the lower boroughs with its stench. Erlich could taste the rich coppery scent of livestock huddling together in the cold night air, fading and rich with succor.

However, he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. He was in need of another type of warmth, the kind that would have made his superiors sneer in disgust. It was only here, away from the prying eyes of the other clan members, that he could have a joint in peace. Erlich scoffed. He parted open the lapel of his jacket and slid out a dainty little cigarette from a half bent cardboard box. It was a second later that he realised he was out of matches.

A scabbed hand intruded in his vision, and with it, a matchbox. Uriah had decided to accompany him on his last day in the Bronx before he would take the MRT down south and hop a bus to Florida. They’d been on a day and night of bar-hopping, finding a good drink to share between the both of them. It’d been half an hour since they left their last bar and the buzz from the eight shots he took was beginning to wear off He would have stayed longer but Deacon, that asshole, decided to hold a meeting all of a sudden.

“ Thanks,” Erlich murmured, cracking the head of the match against the strip and raising the soft yellow flame to the cigar. He took a deep drag, blood rushing pleasantly in his forehead in a nicotine fueled haze. Uriaih meanwhile watched, taking a solitary look towards the stars. They were both on top of a roof now, overseeing the warehouse that Deacon had called both of them to.

“ So, I heard you got a new assignment. “

“ Mhm.” Erlich signed “ Not a pleasant one.”

“ So, where are you headed? Jean told me you were headed to Alaska.”

“ Wrong. I’m headed down to Orleans. Frost wants me to make first contact with the southern clans. We’ve been letting them frolic around there too long.”

“ Think they’ll recognise his authority?”

“ They’d better.” Erlich narrowed his eyes. “ Otherwise, he’d be sending me for a suicide mission. That’d be pretty goddamn stupid of him to do that. Frost has been expanding his operations and right now, the only territory that he hasn’t got a hold of are those mongoloid southerners. They’re more laissez-faire with feeding and fucking with the livestock. I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact the hunters have us on the run, we would have exterminated them.”

He took a drag and breathed out in the cold wind.

“ I was thinking…” He flicked the ash off his cigar and turned around. “.....I think you and I need a heart to heart about your habits. Especially…..”

Erlich’s expression became one of shock as Uriah’s jaw was slack in shock and pain, pawing at the wriggling hand that was protruding out of his chest. Within its bright red grip was a stake with what remained of Uriah’s heart smeared all over the end. Rivulets of blood oozed out, dribbling all over his jacket. Over Uriah’s shoulder were a pair of glimmering red shades that twinkled like jewels in a mine shaft.

The dhampir.

“ You son of a bitch- “ Erlich hissed, pulling out his Colt revolver, cocking the hammer and aiming the barrel towards the dhampir’s heart -

Then, his hand disappeared.

And before he could scream, his head came next.

---

Damn, he hasn’t missed a step, hasn’t he?

It only took two blinks and the bloodsucker was already headless and one handed. It was still standing, arm pointed towards Blade, before Stick kicked it over. There was a long winded whimper that rattled from the bloodsucker his hand was currently punctured through. Eric gripped the stake tight before pulling it out in one swift stroke. The bloodsucker then flopped onto the ground, the contents of his chest vacated by the large hole he’d put through his heart.

“ You could have been more quiet.” Stick commented as he hobbled over towards Eric, even though the dhampir knew that he could run a block in 30 seconds. Guess every assassin had to keep up appearances.

“ You could have been less messy.” Eric fired back, stepping over the vampire’s shriveled corpse. He looked over towards the warehouse. “ So, this is the place? “

“ It’s the place.” Stick pointed towards the entrance, a dark gaping maw peeled out of corrugated iron. “The amount of dark chi this place was giving off was like Chernobyl.”

“ Right….” Eric drawled sarcastically while ripping out the stake from the vampire’s torso. “ Sure you haven’t been doing any drugs while you were meditating- OW!”

Eric rubbed the back of his head, red hot from the slap Stick had given him with his cane. Stick stowed it away, grumbling under his breath before sheathing his katana with a click.

“ C’mon, kid. Those immortal vampire ninjas aren’t going to kill themselves.”

“ Do I count as one of those?”

“ You can if you don’t stop yapping off at me.”

"And hey, maybe Hawkeye would be up for taking care of little Reptar there."

Suddenly an arrow cut through the air, before it's head came apart and ejected a small net, knocking the terribl--y small lizard from her gloved hand. Which sparked a brilliant blue with electricity intermittently as the dinosaur emitted a diminished growl from shrunken vocal chords, leaving it sounding closer to a sick ferret than a beast of terror.

He gave his two former would-be teammates a salute and a wink, and then backflipped into the saddle of his SkyCycle in search of more lively opposition.

"Talking about teammates, we seem to be about a league short of some Justice right about now..." He muttered to himself as he took to the sky. "Sure, I jumped ship because I didn't like the way the it seemed to be moving towards one man following orders, but they seem to be giving me a little too much room to figure this one out for myself so far..."

---

H A W K E Y E
H A W K E Y E

_{SEASON ONE Sensation & Wonder}

---

Far below he saw a familiar face, Steve Rogers - Colonel Captain... or the Captain Colonel, whatever, America - not that HE ever voted for him... getting blasted across the street by the force of a plasma shot to his shield. The disc one. Not the organization. A wry grin crossed Clint's face as he saw the opportunity to get another 'last word' in or, perhaps an 'I owe you one' from between gritted... dentures? Surely dentures. Those can't be his real teeth after all these years, no way. I mean I know he's supposed to be Mister Perfect but-- Focus Clint!

He rolled his shoulders quickly to get a feel for how many arrows were still rattling around in his quiver, and smirked when he felt less than half a dozen.

That big 'Yes-man' pill Goliath gave him an opening, swatting a bunch of dominators away from the fallen Rogers, and Clint jumped clear of his SkyCycle, drew his bow on the flip and landed in front of the Colonel with a trio of arrows nocked and ready to fly.

"I knew it... You're a Hawkeye short. I get it, I'm a lot to try and replace. Well keep your tightey-whiteys clean, old man, 'cos I think I've got one more dance left in me with you jokers."

A horde of Dominators charged.

He loosed the arrows, which were connected on some kind of line. One flew off to the far left and hit a Dominator right in the large red dot on its forehead, another did likewise on the right, and the final one soared over the pack to hit one standing back, barking orders with an even larger red dot. A half second passed before some kind of pulse burst through the line and felled all three as well as every Dominator standing between them.

Clint reached for the next arrow in his quiver. He intended to make every one count, and by his count he had four to go...

---

Erik Selvig was beside himself with excitement. Four hours ago, he had been looking at a grainy, low-resolution render of their inter-dimensional visitor. A hurried summons from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and three sweaty, nervous hours in a quinjet later, he was now standing face-to-face with the him. It seemed that this stranger from a strange land identified as none other than the Norse god Thor, and some functionary of Director Rogers' had run Dr. Selvig's background and learned about his undergrad minor in Germanic and Norse myth. Never in a million years had he ever considered that his pet interest would present him an opportunity like this one.

He walked abreast of this "Thor" as armed guards led them through the helicarrier's labyrinthine interior toward the hangar. The man beside him didn't seem much like a god. Sure, he was enormous, standing a head taller than the six-foot Selvig, and his chest was the size of an engine block. Nothing about him besides that seemed particularly supernatural. Selvig was not a medical doctor, but as far as he could tell this man had a pulse, he breathed air, his eyes blinked, and Thor's other biological functions seemed no different from his own. He carried a curious smell about him; it reminded Selvig of the scent of wet earth that followed rain.

While the two men walked in silence for some time, each occasionally stealing a glance at the other, it was Selvig that first spoke up. "Well Mister, uh, Thor... If we're going to be working together, would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?"

Thor glanced at him for a moment, his expression seeming more curious than anything else. "Ask whatever you like." he said, his gaze returning to the hall in front of them.

"I have a... basic idea of what we're going to be looking for, but I could use some specifics. What exactly are you hoping to find?"

"Runestones." Thor said plainly. "Ancient oaths, written in stone, carved by my father's own hand. They tell of the conquest of Midgard, the peace your people made with mine, and the obligations they owe to my father's throne."

"I see." He had been informed of how casually this character discussed conquering the Earth during his en-route briefing, but hearing it himself was somewhat unsettling for reasons Selvig could not quite describe. "And where do you expect to find these runestones?"

"Where the peace was made and the oaths were sworn. I don't know your name for this place; it's been hundreds of Midgardian lifetimes since I've last been there. My father favored it because it reminded him of our home: a land of fire and ice, beautiful but unforgiving."

Selvig looked at Thor with trepidation. He was beginning to understand why Director Rogers was suspicious of him. Too much of what he said seemed unverifiable. Even if he was from another dimension, that didn't mean anything he said was necessarily true. Selvig needed evidence, or at least something he could verify before this task seemed like anything more than a fool's errand.

"Well, if you've been there before, can you take us back there?"

"Of course, what kind of a sailor would I be if I couldn't navigate?" He said, looking at Selvig and smiling.

Selvig smiled back at him, but still felt uneasy as they entered the helicarrier hangar and boarded yet another quinjet. The space inside the plane was more cramped than usual from having to share it with their bulky visitor, but Selvig knew that these things were build to accommodate the Hulk, and decided not to complain. Their pilot asked Thor for the coordinates of their destination, but he wasn't familiar with latitude and longitude, and didn't know them. Then the pilot offered him a tablet screen with a satellite view of the Earth, which Thor claimed to be equally unfamiliar with.

"I've never seen this planet from above. I only ever travel here with the Bifrost bridge."

"Is that how you came to Earth today?" Selvig asked, and Thor nodded. He would have to inquire more about that later. "How were you planning to get there if you can't say where it is?"

"I may not know what your world looks like from the stars, but I know what the stars look like from your world. Once night falls, I can take you there."

Of course he used stellar navigation, he was (or thought he was) a viking. Selvig could have slapped himself for not seeing the obvious answer any sooner. At least they would not actually have to wait for nightfall, were he telling the truth. He took the tablet from Thor and replaced the image of the Earth with a stellar map of the Northern Hemisphere, and returned the screen for Thor to inspect it.

He studied it for some time, before saying, "This is... not what I remember. The stars seem familiar, but they've drifted out of place. It's been a very long time since I've last been on this world, by your people's standards."

At this point, Selvig was nearly at his wit's end. Only now was he realizing why Director Rogers was so desperate to pawn this guy off on someone else. He had one last idea before he was totally tapped out. He took the tablet again, and turned the screen into a blank, black canvas. He gave it back to Thor, and told him to draw the stars he remembered over the land of fire and ice. With any luck, he could use a few constellations as reference to triangulate a general search area.

"Hm, well, first is Leida, the guiding star. Then Dagst here, Sudrst there..." He tapped a few stars onto the empty sky, before beginning to add more complex arrangements of stars. "The fisherman, the wolf, the chariot, the battle..." Selvig watched with what was curiosity at first, but then rapt fascination as Thor continued to fill in the canvas with stars. While the space seemed to quickly fill with dozens, then hundreds of stars, none of them seemed to be placed randomly. Thor stared at the screen with unwavering focus, placing each star swiftly but deliberately.

After a few minutes he seemed satisfied, and handed Selvig back a tablet that very much resembled a functional stellar map. He cross-referenced the impromptu map against S.W.O.R.D.'s astronomic charts, accounting for stellar migration. After a few moments of processing, the computer had finished the comparison. The map that Thor had drawn was a 98% match for astral bodies visible from Iceland, circa 400 AD. Stunned, Selvig felt his knees buckle under him, and he fell into his seat.

"Well professor?" The pilot radioed them from the cockpit. "Do we have a destination?"

---

As advanced as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bleeding-edge aeronautic technology was, a transatlantic flight still took a fair amount of time. Now that Thor had given some credibility to his story, Selvig was more willing to hear him out, and the two passed the time by indulging each other's curiosity. Thor mostly had questions about the Earth, and its people. He asked about their culture, the history that had transpired since he had last been to Earth, and attempted to glean from Selvig why the people of Earth had abandoned Odin. Selvig did his best to answer what he could, but he was an astrophysicist, not a theologian.

In turn, Selvig quizzed Thor. At first he wanted to know as much as possible about this "Bifrost bridge" that he had used to open a wormhole to Earth. This line of questioning quickly proved disappointing, as he saw Thor's eyes glaze over as soon as he heard the phrase "Einstein-Rosen bridge," and Selvig realized he wasn't going to get any answers he could use. Instead, he asked Thor many questions similar to the ones that the alleged God of Thunder had asked, himself. Thor told him about Asgard, the Aesir, his parents Odin and Frigga, and the Nine Realms. Selvig had no way of verifying anything that he was being told, but Thor seemed to earnestly believe what he was saying, and so the scientist recorded his attestations all the same. He wished that the quinjet they were on had been equipped with better scientific sensors and scanners so that he might conduct a biochemical analysis of Thor, but that would have to wait.

"All of the Aesir are gods," Thor patiently explained, "Most of them are gods of something minor: a particular river or mountain for instance. Only Asgard's nobility can claim dominion over forces like light, or war, or thunder." A prideful gleam glinted in Thor's eyes as he gave the final example. "Now, your turn Erik. I want to know more about these Minnesota Vikings. How much plunder would you say they bring home after a typical raiding season?"

"Not much after they traded Case Keenum, but-"

He was interrupted by the pilot radioing them, "Professor, we're here."

Selvig stared out over the austere landscape of the snow-capped Icelandic volcanoes. Though they seemed calm, he knew that Iceland was a hotbed of near-constant volcanic activity; "a land of fire and ice" was an apt description for the island nation. He turned from the window to look at Thor, who was also staring out over the vista of glacial ice and volcanic rock. He seemed wistful, melancholy even. The landscape below them seemed so alien to Selvig, he wondered if this place truly did remind Thor of his distant home.

Their pilot touched down at the coordinates Selvig had gleaned from Thor's star-map, and the two disembarked the quinjet. Thor, clothed only in his barbarian garb and a simple cloak, seemed completely unperturbed by the icy chill of the volcanic peak they had landed on. Selvig, by contrast, had to borrow a hazardous environment suit from the quinjet's emergency cache, and yet still stood shivering in the ridiculous foil overcoat.

"This is the place," Thor said, possibly to Selvig, possibly to no one. "My father walked here, I can feel it." Selvig did not have a chance to question this statement, as Thor continued onward, forcing the scientist to hurry after him in a frantic, penguin-like waddle. After minutes of seemingly aimless wandering, Thor suddenly stopped. "Here, I've found something."

Selvig caught up to see what Thor had found. It was a boulder of smooth, grey stone, jutting up out of the ice. It had clearly been buried there for a very long time, and the stone did not match the black volcanic rock of the mountain they stood on. Looking closer, Selvig saw that the stone was inscribed with what appeared to be Nordic runes, though he could not translate them by sight. More remarkable than the runes, however, was that the stone had seemingly not eroded at all. If this truly was a relic that dated back 1600 years, he would assume that very little of the original inscription would remain intact. Despite this, the carvings were deep and sharp, as though they had been chiseled into the stone only the day before.

"Is this it?" Selvig asked.

"Yes." Thor sounded perturbed, despite having found what he was looking for. "But there are supposed to be more. This is only one of many stones that mark the history that transpired here."

"Perhaps the others were destroyed? Or relocated?" Selvig offered.

"No." Thor dismissed him out of hand. "No force on this world could destroy a runestone carved by the Allfather, nor would he stand for any mortal disrespecting his sacred runes." Though he said it, Thor was starting to severely doubt the latter fact. Nothing of what he had seen on Midgard so far, nor that Selvig had told him had given Thor the idea that Odin had any clue what was transpiring on Midgard.

"Well," Selvig started, rubbing his arms for warmth. "We are on top of a volcano. It's possible they were buried in an eruption."

While he said nothing, Thor agreed with Selvig's theory. He had no choice but to believe it, as he had no other way to prove Odin's kingship to the Midgardians. He would have to unbury his father's lost runestones, else he feared that he would never be able to leave this world and return home. Without warning, Thor clenched his fist and punched down into the ground under him with all of his might. Ice and stone buckled and shattered under his strength, and the resounding "BOOM" of his strike echoed across the frozen peaks. Selvig reeled as though he had just been next to a firing cannon, and before he could say anything else, Thor struck the ground again, opening another huge crater in the volcanic peak.

Collecting himself, Selvig cautiously approached Thor, "I don't think that's a very good-" BOOM "Christ!" He reeled back again. Thor's impromptu archeological excavation had turned up nothing but the first stone they had found, but Thor showed no signs of stopping his one-sided battle with the mountain. Again and again Thor crashed his fists into the black stone, sending massive chunks of rock and ice flying in every direction.

Selvig tried to yell out to Thor and get him to stop, but the more he dug the more desperate he seemed to get, and the scientists words seemed to have no effect on him. Eventually he had to retreat back toward the quinjet just to avoid being struck by flying rubble. Thor continued to batter the ground under him until the entire mountain range seemed to shake with his thunderous blows. A sulfuric smell filled Selvig's nostrils, and he rushed to equip a gas mask from his environment suit's bespoke compartment. The last thing he needed was to die here from inhaling volcanic fumes.

Thor had practically vanished from sight at this point, having burrowed so far into the mountain, and swirling, dark clouds began to coalesce overhead. Lava plumes suddenly burst up out of the rock around the crater Thor had dug, and Selvig could see other floes erupting further down the mountain. This was getting dangerous, quickly. They had to leave before the volcano fully erupted, but he couldn't conscience the idea of leaving the still mostly-unknown Thor to his own devices. Tightening the straps of his gas mask and pulling his metallic environment coat closer, he trudged toward the caldera Thor was digging. The entire mountain shook with Thor's blows, and it took everything Selvig had to stay on his feet as he pressed onward.

Eventually he came to the lip of the pit Thor had dug, and stared down at the God as he continued to destroy the mountain in a mindless frenzy. Thor was up to his knees in bubbling lava, but didn't seem to notice as he continued to wreak havoc on everything within arm's reach. Selvig tried screaming at him to stop, telling him he'd kill them all, but he could not be heard over the sound of Thor's fury. Soon, the heat grew almost unbearable, and Selvig collapsed to his knees at the volcano's mouth. He didn't want to die, but he didn't know what else to do.

The mountain then began to tremble all on its own, and Thor's frenzy of blows ceased. The lava bursts became more intense, and the volcano rumbled under them. Selvig figured that those would be the last moments of his life, before he was consumed in a volcanic eruption triggered by a superhuman alien with daddy issues. The rumbling became louder, and Selvig realized that what he was hearing wasn't rumbling at all. It sounded almost like... roaring.

Before he had another moment to think about it, the caldera pit exploded in a shower of molten rock. Selvig had to dive out of the way of a glowing-orange boulder the size of a compact car, but he was surprised to find himself still alive moments later. He looked up, and what he saw frightened him even more than the possibility of a volcanic eruption. What had burst out of the volcano was not a life-annihilating stream of lava and ash, but a huge, winged beast. It resembled a horned serpent the size of a humpback whale, propelling itself into the air on leathery wings. Its scales were glossy black, and white-hot lava dripped from it as the monster continued to rise further into the air. The beast roared again, the same sound Selvig had heard before it emerged, and a plume of baleful fire erupted from the beast's fanged maw.

Selvig would not have realized that Thor was standing next to him, also staring up at the winged monster, had he not put his huge hand on Erik's shoulder. Thor brandished his axe, and gave Selvig a firm shove in the direction of the quinjet. "I think you should go," he said curtly, "It's been some time since I've had to slay a dragon."

Red Robin #11 - Smashing the looking glass
Location - Gotham City, New Jersey.

---

Dumfree Tweed was too busy reloading his weapon to notice the dark shadow of Red Robin descending upon him from above. The young vigilante came down hard, kicking his feet against Dumfree's hands as he collided. The hulk of a man stumbled backwards, his hands opening as the nerves within them spasmed from the impact, causing his weapon to tumble onto the floor with a metallic rattle. He let out a large yelp, piercing the previous sound of chaos.

Rebounding off of Dumfree's hands, Red Robin jumped back onto the floor, placing himself so that Dunfree was still blocking his still armed cousin.

"Batman!" Was all the man could utter as he recovered himself, causing a flash of a smile on Tim's face.

Clearly the branding wasn't quite working.

"Not quite." Tim rebuked with a chuckle, his hand moving to his utility belt in preparation.

As he had predicted, the now weaponless Dunfree rushed forwards towards him. He reacted accordingly, jumping straight up and kicking himself into a backflip. He landed firmly, both feet square on the top of Dunfree's head. The impact rippled through Tim's body, but he knew the brute was feeling the worst of it. Crying out in pain, he lashed out above his head, only for Tim to leap once more, using him as a springboard.

He moved through the air towards the other Tweed cousin, his hand finally moving away from his utility belt. His bo staff expanded as he swung forward at Deever Tweed, using his momentum to empower the swing. Deever couldn't even pull the trigger of his gun before the metal pole was hitting him aside the head. Blood and teeth spewed from his mouth as he dropped to the floor.

Red Robin was almost confident that the fight was done, then and there. Sadly, Tweedledum and Tweedledee weren't the types to go down without a fight.

He suddenly felt the weight of Dunfree's arms wrapping around him from behind, as the man attempted to grapple him. Tim rocked back and forth aggressively as he tried to wriggle free, but just as he did so, he found himself left open for Deever's fist as the man rose back to his feet.

The impact of the punch sent him immediately to the floor, his face now burning with pain.

He couldn't focus on that pain just yet though. He needed a solution.

Red Robin swung out wildly with his bo staff, causing Deever to initially take a step back out of fear of the last time he'd encountered it moments previously. That moment of hesitation was all Tim needed though to make a grab for his grappling gun and to fire it forwards. The line shot out towards the two men, rocketing through Dunfree's legs and into the side of a car on the street before them. The shot had confused Dunfree so much that he didn't initially react as Red Robin retracted the line, and slid rapidly along the floor towards him and merely watched as the masked teenager passed between his legs.

He swung out once more with the bo staff as he did so, however, using it to trip Dunfree onto the floor by bringing it hard against his shins.

Reaching the car, Red Robin span and drifted onto his feet as his hands moved once more to his utility belt. Two small metallic devices fell into his hands.

Data hadn't been the only thing he had taken from Freeze's lab.

The cryogenic grenades exploded as soon as they hit their targets, an eruption of light blue ice cascading up the bodies of the two identical cousins before him. In moments they were frozen in place, their bodies entirely entrapped bar their heads, which stuck out awkwardly, now screaming for help.

Tim let out a long sigh of relief as he sat back against the car, his hand finally moving up to the redness of his face where he had just been punched.

Tonight was going to be a long one.

---

"Thanks a zillion million billion, She-Hulk." The Wasp said, accepting the Avengers communicator with a bow. Quickly she linked it up to her headset and attached it to her belt. She thought she recognized the voice over the radio, but it sounded a little old to be Spider-Man. Still, the plan was sound as a bell, and was exactly what Janet Van Dyne had in mind.

"This is The Wasp, speaking on She-Hulk's communicator!" She said. "I'm buzzin' on up to the portal over Times Square. I'll get the data on that portal with my Quantum Gizmo™!" She reported in. "Just cover each other! But especially me."

The Wasp gasped and pretended to bite her finger as little Reptar was snatched from her hands by the impeccable aim of Hawk-Eye. "Gee, thanks! Don't use him for target practice while I'm gone. That's the most endangered animal on the planet!" She gave him a thumbs up. "You've also got about twenty four hours until the Mega Molecules wear off and Reptar gets big again so, watch out!"

With a half-cocked salute, she bent her knees and jumped, wings fluttering. At high speeds she zipped zigged and zagged, making her an incredibly difficult target to hit. Only sheer volume of fire could knock her out of the air, and fortunately her allies were keeping the Dominators plenty distracted. "Closing the portal is priority Numero Uno." Janet murmered to herself. Boy, her heart was racing! Despite all the veritable carnage happening around her, Janet Van Dyne was nothing if not a thrill seeker. In her opinion, heroing was a lot more fun if you embraced the risks.

A Dominator space ship came her way, an ugly little thing with a big window and ugly little monsters on the inside. Clunky armor and big heads with big red targets on their forehead. "Wanna piece of me, do ya? Okay! But don't complain to me if your portion sizes are too small!" With that, she shrunk down to the size of a wasp and zipped toward them. She zipped down the barrel of one of their mounted cannons, disabling it with a micro burst from her fingers. The gunner looked confused for a moment. From one of the panels on the side shot out the glowing yellow heroine who delivered a swift tiny kick to the gunners head, knocking him unconscious. Not that the Wasp was planning on going easy on these suckers or taking them alive. Genocidal maniacs weren't going to weasel out of a good killin' just because they were sentient.

One of the other dominator gunners reached for his gun, but it was zapped out of his hands and skittered across the floor. He looked up at her for a second. "Nope, you're dead!" The Wasp declared, firing a yellow laser right into the monsters eye and frying their brain. Then she flew right into the cockpit and the confused pilot had a moment to react before he too was stung by the Wasps Stinger and he slumped over on his controls, unconscious. Growing temporarily to her normal stature, The Wasp placed a shrinker on him and turned him to the size of a raisin. She plucked him up and stuffed him into one of her wrist pockets. "Never know when a goon might come in handy." She said.

With that, she placed another shrinking device on the center console and flew out of the exposed panel she came in. "Yeesh, these alien invasions always burn a hole in the tax payers pocket." The Wasp said. She shrunk the enemy space ship down to the size of a desk. It spiralled out of control and slammed into a building, where it shattered off the wall and fell into an alley in flaming pieces. "I'm sure they don't mind though, heheh."

Back to full size to get her max speed up, she zoomed up towards the portal. The readings of her Gizmo were off the charts! Well, that's not true, they were very much on the charts. Anyone who said anything was off the charts clearly just hadn't made enough charts.

Regardless, she unholstered the silvery device and angled it at the portal. It was daunting to be so close to a gap in reality. She could see stars and the black void of space. Energy shimmered infront of her eyes. There was even a significant amount of wind pressure as the air of the Earth itself was ripped through and into the void of space. Fortunately her wings were strong enough to push against it. Janet wasn't exactly eager to end up on the wrong side of a portal again.

She tapped a button and her device lit up, a grid-formation of light beginning to work its way across the portal. "Beep bop boop, science science science, go go go!" She said. Hopefully no other dominators showed up to ruin her day.

INVASION OF NEW YORK... AGAIN

Steve accepted the help to stand up, brushing himself off. He slammed his foot on the edge of his shield, it flipped into the air and he caught it on his wrist. He smirked slightly at the quip by his former resident archer. Clint had been through a lot, the same as the rest of them. Working at the behest of the Governments of the world and their agenda wasn't exactly for him. "I missed you about as much as a hole in the head Barton, but since you're here you can make yourself useful."

Ducking behind his shield as a shot hit it, he turned away from the Dominators as Goliath shrunk down to human size. Steve crouched on the ground shield up, as soon as Goliaths boots hit his shield he pushed sending Goliath into a mid-air flip. Before the augmented human grew in size, slamming his body down on a group of Dominator reinforcements. Steve tapped his communicator. "Goliath take Jack and Widow to back up Wasp-" He wasn't entirely sure where she had appeared from. Last time anyone had seen her they had all written her off as dead. Shrinking to a 'subatomic' size or something. He didn't fully understand the science behind it all.

"Copy that Colonel." Goliath pushed himself to his feet, holding his hands outstretched as the two heroes jumped up onto his hand and then up to his shoulders. Turning back to Hawkeye Steve shook his entire body trying to loosen it up.

"You ready for another round Barton?"