by Stuart Moore
In an instant, hurt turned to rage. The Hulk reached back, grabbed Drax, and pounded him – a terrible blow at close range. The Destroyer gasped as he hurtled over the wall of the grocery store. The Hulk stomped out of the store, batting out flames with his massive hands. He looked up at Rocket, then at War Machine, and he growled.
Then he seized hold of the garbage truck with both hands, hefted it, and flung it into the air. Rocket veered aside, but it caught his rig a glancing blow, sending him spinning out of control. Rhodey took the full impact. The truck slammed into him with a sickening crunch.
Rocket clattered down to a shaky landing. Groot hurried up to him, concerned. “I’m OK, I’m OK,” he said.
“I am Groot…”
“Yeah, the lawnmower’s totaled.”
On the roof, the Kree continued firing. The Hulk turned toward them and roared again, green energy flaring. The Kree cried out, clutching their heads.
“I am Groot?”
“I dunno,” Rocket replied, grimacing. “But it’s gonna take a lot more than a home improvement spree to stop that guy.”
•••
Jericho forced himself to ignore the cries, the impacts, the flaring energy of the World-Breaker. The true battle was inside this cage of bones. The battle for Daniel’s soul, for his good angel.
…an order to the world, Jericho repeated, one that cannot be violated. Not by you or I, no matter how powerful we may dream ourselves to be. Certainly not by your Master, who is not of this world at all.
Still Daniel was silent. But the walls of the prison seemed to waver, the bones shimmering from milk-white to clear and back again.
That order… that balance… we are strongest in it when we work together. Then we are our best selves, our finest angels. Then may all sins be redeemed, all bad works made good.
Join me, brother. Walk the path that leads you home. Let us wield the gris-gris in concert, as we were trained to do. As we were meant to do.
Again, the bones shimmered. Jericho heard a sob and whirled around. In the center of the cage, Daniel crouched down, head in his hands.
Forgive me, brother. Daniel looked up, his eyes full of anguish. I had to see it. Had to see the monster before I understood…
Jericho frowned. He was not free to leave; the cage had not vanished. Images of battle still filled the air: Black Widow dazed on the ground, Groot making a fierce assault against the raging Hulk. Jericho studied his brother, sobbing on the floor. Was this some sort of trick?
No matter. Nothing in the world mattered more than Daniel. If saving him meant falling into another trap, Jericho would gladly brave the danger.
Brother, he said. Take my hand…
The air turned thick; the bones flared scarlet. The images all around vanished, replaced by a dozen views of the same visage: a head on fire, with eyes as white as chalk. A demonic vision from beyond this plane of existence.
The Master.
Daniel let out a cry of terror. Jericho held up his staff and, with his other hand, reached out to grasp his brother’s shoulder. He did not have his equipment, his thread and candles and graveyard soil, here in this inner space. All he had was his will.
Papa Legba, he chanted. Open the gate, open the gate. Protect this place from all intruders. Banish the evil from this house–
LITTLE MAN OF HERBS AND WAX. The Master laughed, his white eyes focusing on Jericho. I AM NOT HERE FOR YOU. NOT YET.
Then those eyes turned to his brother. No, Daniel said. No, please!
Stand away, Jericho warned. Papa Legba, Papa Legba–
HE OFFERED HIS SOUL, the flaming vision said. NO GOD OF YOURS MAY KEEP ME FROM HIM.
Daniel let out a plaintive cry, his eyes wide in their sockets. Then he crumbled inward, dissolved into mist, and vanished.
Jericho winced, disoriented, as the outside world flooded in. The Master was gone too, and so was his cage; Jericho sat on a cold stone bench, alone in the New Jersey night. Half a football field away, the Hulk flared bright, battling the combined forces of the Kree, the Guardians, and the Avengers.
He was free again, in his own body – the body of Doctor Voodoo. A body he now occupied alone. There was no trace of Daniel, his thoughts or his spirit-form.
Brother, he vowed, I will find you. Whatever you’ve done, wherever it takes me. I will find you and lead you home.
He felt a moment of loneliness, a cold shiver of self-pity. Then he gathered his cloak around him and strode off toward the light.
•••
Captain America lay on the hard pavement, bracing himself with his good arm. Stars swam before his eyes. Come on, soldier, he thought. Get it together. Get up!
The sounds of fighting, of gunfire, surrounded him. His shield lay discarded on the ground; without thinking, he reached out for it with his injured arm. He unbent the arm slowly, stretching the cast. The arm didn’t hurt at all – not even a twinge.
I’m healed, he thought. Finally!
Rolling on his side, he closed his fingers into a fist and flexed his bicep. The cast ripped open, falling aside. He paused for a moment, gathering his strength–
“Want a hand?”
Tony Stark stood in the light of a streetlamp still wearing his armor, but with his face exposed. Cap scuttled away, unsure.
“It’s OK, I’m me again. For better or worse.” Tony pointed a thumb behind him. “Had a little help.”
The Kree woman, Kir-ra, stood watching warily. She held her combat rod, poised and ready for action.
“I’m only as good as my employees,” Tony continued. “What am I saying? I’m nowhere near as good as my employees.”
Cap grimaced and held out his hand – the one that had been in a cast, just seconds ago. Tony grasped it firmly and pulled him to his feet.
“Back in action,” Tony said. “You and me.”
“Looks that way,” Cap said.
“You ready to do this? Do some Avenging?”
“I think so. Yeah.” Cap smiled. “I think I’m whole again.”
“Not me. But I’m getting there.”
Cap turned to stare at the battle raging in front of the grocery store. The Guardians and the Kree were keeping the Hulk at bay, with a little airborne help from War Machine. But it was a stalemate at best.
“Sooner or later,” Cap said, “he’s gonna get away from us.”
“Yeah.” Tony shook his head. “We really made a mess of things this time.”
Cap frowned at him. “‘We’?”
Kir-ra raised an eyebrow at Tony. “You are the one who brought a planet-killer here.”
“Hey, Tasha called for the Hulk! OK, OK, beside the point.” Tony paused, thinking. “My armor’s barely at half charge. I can raise a few green bruises, maybe draw some blood here and there, but I’m never gonna bring him down. We need something else.”
A violet cloak seemed to waft out of the darkness. “Perhaps,” Doctor Voodoo said, “this ‘something else’ is already within us.”
Cap took up his shield. “Jericho Drumm,” he said. “You been deprogrammed too?”
“Or are you just the spooky side of our giant-sized gamma-ray problem?” Tony asked.
“I was never programmed,” Voodoo said, “merely held captive. But I have escaped my prison, and I believe I can help.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Kir-ra frowned. “I think.”
“I’m not sure who to trust anymore,” Cap said, keeping his shield raised. “But if you’ve got an idea, Jericho, well, bring it on.”
“It will require considerable sacrifice from myself and Mister Stark,” Voodoo replied. “We must confront the evil behind this, head-on. The experience will not be pleasant.”
Tony laughed.
Cap lowered his shield, staring at him in shock. “You think this is funny?”
That elicited a fresh burst of laughter from Tony. Kir-ra and Voodoo exchanged worried glances. “I’m sorry,” Tony said, letting out a last giggle. “It’s just… ‘not pleasant’?”
He looked up just as the Hulk let out an earth-shaking roar. An enormous green fist slammed into Drax the Destroyer, sending him flying across the parking lot.
“What could be worse than this?” Tony asked.
Chapter 51
A trio of police cars screamed up, lights flashing blue and red in the night. They veered into the shopping center, fanning out around the parking lot. Six doors opened at once, officers dropping low as they drew their guns.
“I got this,” Captain America said.
“Keep them away,” Tony said.
Cap trotted off toward the cops. One arm clutched his shield tight, the other was raised high to greet them. He’s back, Tony thought. Healed, whole, and ready to save the day.
I hope I am, too.
He watched in alarm as the remaining façade of the grocery store collapsed with a thunderous crash. The Hulk swept the rubble aside, growling, and started toward the street. The Guardians had already reunited, in the parking lot, to form a barricade against him. Drax stood in front, fists clenched, with Groot and Gamora just behind. Rocket circled in the air, backing them up.
On the adjoining roof, Drax’s Kree friends had blockaded themselves behind a pile of rubble. They popped their heads up in an irregular rhythm, squeezing off shot after shot. Tony caught sight of Natasha among them, firing her electrical blasts.
But nothing stopped the Hulk. His green-glowing eyes lit briefly on the cluster of police cars, and a snarl rose from his lips. Then he turned his attention to the housing project across the street and began to stomp toward it.
“Have you made the necessary adjustments?” Doctor Voodoo asked, startling Tony.
“Oh! I think so.” He looked down at his chestplate, which was exposed to reveal a maze of circuits. He fitted a last connection into place and closed the cover. “Assuming I know what I’m doing. Mixing tech and magic always makes me reach for the anxiety meds.”
“Papa Legba will guide us,” Voodoo said, holding up his staff. “Assuming I know what I’m doing.”
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“Well,” Voodoo replied, “I am your Director of Diabolism and Parapsychology.”
Tony smiled.
“Remember,” Voodoo added, “the process will involve great pain, on both a physical and spiritual level. We must not waver, not stop for a moment, if we wish to accomplish our task.”
“Let’s do it.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s make this right.”
Kir-ra ran up, out of breath. “The… piz-za parlor?… has been evacuated.” She turned to Tony. “What else can I do?”
“Just get to a safe distance and wait. In case I, you know, explode or something.”
She nodded, eyes wide, and touched his shoulder for a moment. Then she backed away.
The Hulk took a gigantic step. The ground shook, pavement crumbling to powder under his foot. The World-Breaker raised his axe and roared to the world.
“It must be now,” Voodoo said.
“Spaceman,” Tony hissed into his suit-radio. “You in position?”
“Oh yeah.”
With a shaky, rattling roar, the Guardians’ ship came screaming down out of the sky. Its front-mounted cannon began to glow, strobing from yellow to orange to red-hot.
“Heads up,” Peter Quill cried. “Here comes the BIG BUTT BEAM!”
The ship swung low, executing a wrenching turn in midair. The beam lanced out, striking the Hulk straight in the chest. He cried out in rage and pain.
“Yeah, OK,” Rocket said, his voice filtered over the comms. “That is a better name.”
With a mental command, Tony closed his helmet. He blinked in a precise pattern, issuing a complex series of orders to his armor. Gamma rays, radiating outward from the Hulk, appeared in a schematic before his eyes. He flinched at the levels: eight megaelectronvolts… nine, and climbing…
“Do not be distracted by the science,” Doctor Voodoo said. “You must reach deep inside. Recall the feel of his evil, the stench of his presence. Part of it is still with you; part of it will always be with you.”
He’s right, Tony realized. The extradimensional entity that had worked its will through the Hood, that had given Doctor Voodoo’s brother such power – a chunk of it still lingered. A terrible, squirming creature in the corner of his mind, a mewling thing that he could not bring himself to look upon.
“Yet you must,” Voodoo said, as if reading his mind. “Just as I must confront it. The devil that stole my brother from me and perverted the arts to which I have devoted my life.”
Grimacing inwardly, Tony forced himself to look. The creature was not a creature; it was a stench, a stain, a hole chipped into the armor of his mind. A void that had already existed, filled now with the remnant of this almost viral invader.
The thing’s presence, its foul nature, reminded him of his recent failures. The ambush in the Manhattan office; the trashing of the Long Island facility. His employees, hypnotized and murdered. His own lack of leadership, which had allowed the Kree to be mistreated and abused.
Pepper.
As despair washed over him, he caught a quick glimpse of Jericho Drumm’s thoughts. An image of bones, of children playing. A man crumbling to dust.
“Do not look away,” Drumm’s voice quavered. “Know it for what it is.”
The not-creature, the cancer in his mind, began to burn. Harsh flames, black and terrible, strobing up and down like curtains. He forced himself to watch, renewing the commands to his armor. Searching for the right frequency…
Outside, the Hulk took another step. He swatted Rocket out of the sky, then let out a roar that shook the air itself.
“There,” Voodoo said. “Do you see it?”
All at once, he did. It was the fire that had consumed Praeterus, the otherworldly spark that had ignited the planet’s core. The trigger that could unleash near-infinite energies.
“Now,” Voodoo said, holding out the Staff of Legba. “Take hold.”
Grimacing, Tony closed his hand over the wooden staff. An irresistible pull took hold of him, a hypermagnetic attraction. He raised his arm and aimed the receptors in his glove at the source of that power, at the techno-mystic energies that threatened to destroy the Earth.
At the Hulk.
Power surged into Tony’s armor, flowing through his receptors, filling his batteries. Radiation, infused with eerie mystical energies – pouring in, hot and fast, overloading and spilling over into his reserve cells. Ten megaelectronvolts. Eleven. Thirteen…
A chorus of alarms sounded in his ears. The armor began to heat up; sparks broke out along the servos, in the reactor conduits and air circulation pipes. He dropped to his knees, sweat rising within his helmet.
“Can’t… hold it,” he gasped.
The Hulk turned in surprise, watching the fiery energy flow from his own chest down to the gleaming man on the ground. He raised an enormous hand, trying to stop the flow, then howled in pain as the energy scorched his tough skin.
“Keep going,” Voodoo said. His voice sounded distant.
Tony issued mental commands, venting heat manually, tamping out microfires as fast as they broke out. But it was too much. “I can’t do it,” he gasped.
“You must.”
“This one suit of armor…” The repulsor on his left hand burst into flame. “It wasn’t built to hold the stored energy of a planet!”
“How ’bout two suits of armor?”
Through his pain, he registered James Rhodes’s presence beside him. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Well…” Rhodey held up his damaged weapon-arm. “I’d feel better if I had my machine gun
.”
“Yeah, that one’s on me.” Tony blinked out a rapid-fire series of technical commands. “Most of the radiation is gamma,” he said. “Your receptors open?”
Rhodey nodded.
They clasped hands, repulsor barrels touching in a spark of eldritch energy. Immediately Tony felt the power ease – flowing into Rhodey’s suit, into the War Machine armor. Twelve MeV… eleven…
“Tony,” Rhodey said. “I don’t… don’t think I can…”
“Just hold on,” Tony replied.
He slumped down against a lamppost, running a quick survey of his own armor’s systems. The radiation levels had dropped, but they were still hovering way above critical. He could barely see. A dozen tiny fires still raged across his suit. Reluctantly he snapped open his helmet, gasping for air.
“Armor’s already damaged,” Rhodey said. “Containment circuits failing…”
“Doc?” Tony called. “Doc, are we doing it?”
Voodoo’s voice was faint. “Yes,” he said, “but you must continue. At least two-thirds of the energy still resides within the World-Breaker.”
The Hulk stared down at the stream of power draining out of him – the shimmering energy that threatened to light up the two Iron Men like candles. He seemed baffled, puzzled by it all. By the power that could destroy this world.
“Tony,” Rhodey said. “Tony, I’m overloading!”
Two-thirds of the energy, Tony thought. That means twice as much yet to come. Numbers danced before his eyes. The radiation was rising again. Rhodey’s armor was already sparking, overheating.
I’ve failed again, he thought. Failed the entire world, this time. We can’t handle this much power. We’re not going to make it….
Chapter 52
The Hulk stood, power surging from every pore of his emerald body, staring down at the metal men drawing that power slowly out of him. He raised his head to the sky and howled.
Kir-ra crouched on top of a lamppost, watching from a distance. With her Sen-Zha training, she felt that howl. She sensed the Hulk’s confusion, his rage – and in that rage, she felt her world die all over again.
