“It saddens me to no lengths, standing up here to address you all in a situation such as this. Today is a day no one expected would ever come, the day that I, and every predecessor before me, feared in the back of our minds. Today is the day that we bury one of the greatest heroes in American history.

“But this is the United States of America . We will go on. We will persevere.

“It's unfortunate that I have to even say that. This country has done more surviving in the past year than should be necessary, and still our spirits are not broken. Someone out there believes they can cripple America 's soul by murdering those that defend it, and though this is not the first of your victims we've buried, I can promise he will be your last. If you're watching this on television, listening on the radio, or even in the very crowd before me…know your days are numbered. You will be brought to justice, and our heroes will be avenged.

“Your actions may have killed the man we bury today, but you could not kill his spirit. He lives on in each and every patriot in this country, ready to stand up and take arms against those that would mean any of our brothers harm. Let it be known, by the decree of the President of the United States of America , that today's event marks your last free moment.

“For today we bury Steven Rogers...but the memory of Captain America will forever live on.”

Chapter One: Down Among the Dead Men

The cemetery in Arlington , Virginia was packed to the brim with mourners, all in attendance to pay respect to one man. Steve Rogers…better known to the world as Captain America . The President's stirring speech still resonated in the hearts and minds of the population, even hours after the body was committed to earth and wood. The attendees ranged from the smallest of children to the most powerful of super humans. The machinations of the so-called “super-villains” of the world stopped dead, if only for a moment...how could they be called evil, when the shining Sentinel of Liberty could be coldly and maliciously slaughtered by someone other than them? They'd plotted his death many times, to be sure, but never with such disrespect for the most noble of foes.

One of the before mentioned super humans had arrived alone, having been forced to attend to other scientific matters on the West Coast before he could travel. Henry McCoy's teammates in the X-Men had declined attendance, but Hank was unable to refuse the call. They had not served with the Captain, as he had, and the former Avenger known as the blue-furred Beast was one of many that called the man more than just “teammate”, but “friend” as well. He watched in silence, and could see the devastation in the faces of the long-time Avengers, people who had served so long with the Captain that he had become family to them. America could do that to you.

After the President's speech, the super humans cleared out, allowing the common man to pay their grievances to the fallen hero. Hank wandered around in a daze, his emotions on his sleeve and his next action at a crossroads, when a finger reached out and touched him on the fuzzy shoulder. A small smile, followed by a hug, was the only gestures that could be conjured between him and Patricia Walker. Patsy had served in the Avengers during the same period as the Beast, having become the costumed heroine known as Hellcat. She died too, a few years ago, but was brought back to life. She told this to Hank, that if she could come back from death, surely they could find a way to get Cap back. Beast simply smiled and nodded as his friend spoke, knowing that such a miraculous occurrence was unlikely to happen again.

“You had best remove your hand, before I'm forced to remove it for you.”

Namor the Sub-Mariner, present king of Atlantis and current member of the Defenders, stared with cold eyes at the man grasped on to his shirt collar. John Walker's mouth spat venomous comments of contempt toward the native Atlantean, Namor's shirt twisting in his strength-enhanced grip. Daniels, now bearing the moniker of the US Agent, once replaced Steve Rogers as Captain America , whereas Namor was able to claim the Captain as one of the few true friends he had managed to procure over the years. The two were having a disagreement, perpetrated mostly by their enlarged egos.

“Listen here, Fishstick,” Walker shouted as he was pulled away from his opponent by two of their teammates, “I don't care if you did know Cap longer than the rest of us, you can't dictate how this manhunt goes. You're a criminal for God's sake, I ought to lock your ass up and throw away the key!”

“Namor's proven himself to the Avengers countless times,” the synthetic human known only as the Vision declared as he helped drag the Agent away, “he has every right to state his opinion.”

The Beast sat at the table in the farthest back corner, flanked by Patsy and Mantis, the Celestial Madonna. At the Hellcat's urging he had returned to Avengers Mansion to attend a meeting that would decide the course of action the team would take. Almost every individual ever to call themselves an Avenger were in attendance, even some such as Hellcat that had not seen active duty in years. Hank couldn't help but see some absences in the group though, a few men and women that he had expected to see. Instead he had been greeted by a large quantity of strangers; people that had come into the group's fold long after he'd taken leave. The outburst between Namor and US Agent had been expected by some, but not by him. He didn't like working with unknowns, even though he was there simply out of curiosity. He knew the Avengers had many more qualified members than he to be called upon during the search for the Captain's killer, and had yet to be given even a sideways glance by the few that he had served with.

“As one of the two remaining active Avengers,” the Vision stated to the large group in his emotionless voice, “I have been asked to act as Chairperson for the time being. As you all now know, unknown people during an unknown situation murdered Captain America . He is the fifth Avenger to be killed as such in the past several months, with no clues left behind as to the identity of the perpetrator or perpetrators. This meeting is intended to assign an active replacement team of Avengers, charged with the main task of tracking down the murderer or murderers.”

“The death tally is as such,” the Vision continued coldly, as was expected from a being more mechanical than man, “Hawkeye, Giant-Man, Iron Man, the Black Panther, and now Captain America . Only the Scarlet Witch and I stand as active Avengers.”

“Oh my stars and garters,” were the only words Henry McCoy was able to choke out.

“Okay, now I'm confused,” stated an armored Jim Rhodes, better known as War Machine, “because this hasn't been on the news or any kind of alert. Besides, what about the Avengers you didn't mention that aren't here, could they be dead somewhere and us just not know about it yet?"”

“To whom do you refer?” the Vision questioned.

“What about the Wasp...or Black Widow...or Thor for that matter? You'd think they'd be here instead of us second stringers that I see scattered around the room.” Simon Williams, aka Wonder Man, asked, taking his turn at confusion.

“Janet is on an extended leave to mourn the passing of Henry Pym,” Vision replied, “and Natasha is currently doing some behind the scenes work for us, hoping to help determine the identity of the person responsible for this.”

Hank's thoughts wandered off as the Vision continued to speak in his monotone voice, the sound almost trance-inducing. Information processed in the Beast's genius mind in an attempt to tie the events together logically. One question kept creeping back, however, a question the Vision had skipped over without notice.

Where was Thor?

After an agonizing hour of waiting, the gathered Avengers snapped their weary heads to attention the moment Vision and the Scarlet Witch returned to the room. A piece of paper hung from the synthetic man's hand, names written and scratched out...the final product of their brainstorming roster drive. Vision once again took the podium, the eyes of his comrades and friends locked on his red visage.

“The past hour has been difficult for us all,” he began, “but we have come to a working interim roster. We have chosen the four of you on this list due to several factors, the most of which being the resourcefulness that you all share. You shall join Wanda and I for one mission...one goal...tracking down the villains that murdered our teammates.”

One by one, the Vision read off the names of the four Avengers chosen to learn the truth about the murders in their midst.

Wonder Man...

Tigra...

War Machine...

and The Beast.

Hank McCoy's jaw dropped in mute surprise, not understanding why he had been chosen over the more qualified Avengers around him. He glanced around, finding it strange that no one questioned the Vision's choices. Even the very vocal US Agent remained silent, no one speaking a word of argument about not being chosen themselves. The Beast's eyes met with those of Simon's, seeing the same questions reflected back at him from his friend.

“Greer, Simon, James, Hank...please convene with Wanda and I in the conference room in two hours,” Vision requested, “I hope that is sufficient time for you to settle back into the Mansion.”

“Vision, wait a moment!” Hank demanded as he leapt from his seat and bounded to the synthezoid's side. “As you know, my assistance is here for the Avengers without question. But, why was I chosen over others here, being that I haven't served an active tenure in years?”

“Your genius intellect will be invaluable to us, Hank,” Wanda spoke up, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. A bit of pressure was applied from her wrist, her eyes speaking more than her words ever could. “I'll talk with you about it later. Okay?”

“Of course, Wanda,” McCoy replied, knowing that he wasn't the only one to have the same doubts and fears. Whatever was going on, something was amiss, and Wanda knew it as well.

“So what's the word, Hank?”

Sitting before the expansive computer monitor system of Avengers Mansion , the Beast removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. On the numerous screens played the amateur videotape shot by an onlooker the day of the previous team's last battle. The Avengers on the tape were clear as day, their deaths playing over and over in a continuous loop, while their attackers had mysteriously been blurred to the point that recognition was impossible. Simon Williams gritted his teeth at the scenes, the actions of that day an impossible scar on every Avenger's soul.

“I can't seem to crack the pixel code that was imprinted on the tape when it was recording,” Hank stated in frustration, “One of the attackers used a small magnetic pulse field, effectively scrambling any digital image that could capture their identities.”

“So that means?”

“I'm stumped,” he replied with a sigh.

“Vision came to the same conclusion, Hank,” Wonder Man said as he took the seat directly beside the Beast, “so these guys were incredibly well prepared.”

“That's not the weird thing,” the blue furred mutant said as he turned the monitors off, “remember how Vision skipped over Thor's absence, almost as if he didn't register the question when you asked about him? Well, I did some digging around, and there's not a single scrap of information on Thor in the entire database. He's been erased.”

“Yet only you and I seem to realize this,” Simon said.

“Thor's not the only one to have vanished...Hercules is the same way. Like they never existed.”

“You don't know what a relief it is,” the voice of Wanda Maximoff sounded from the open door, “to hear those words out of your mouth, Hank. I thought I was the only one.”

“Something's happening here, something that's affecting the rest of the team,” Hank replied to Wanda's statement, “It's my suggestion that we tell no one about this Thor discovery. No use in making things more confusing that they already are.”

“Indeed,” the Scarlet Witch agreed, putting a finger to her lip in a silencing signal. Almost immediately after, the remaining Avengers began to file into the Conference Room, ready to get their search underway. The six took seats at an elongated table, an information console that could feasibly seat at least a dozen, with the Vision logically taking the head chair.

“The first thing I want to address,” Vision began, “is a little difficult for me to admit. Wanda and I have discussed it, and we feel that neither of us is emotionally fit at this moment to serve as Chairman. Having been so close to the Captain, we are afraid our emotions will cloud our judgment, so I must step down effective immediately.”

“Wait, Vision,” Tigra spoke up, “which one of us is qualified to lead this team? None of us have leadership experience, as far as I know.”

“Hank does,” Wanda interjected, “he's been a leader for the X-Men on several occasions, right Hank?”

“Wanda, I don't know what to say. Are you sure you want to give such an important position to a simple blue-furred scientist?” Beast asked, his eyes locked with the Witch's. Again, her eyes said more than her mouth could allow.

“We have faith in you, Hank,” the Vision replied.

“Okay, well...” the Beast began, switching places at the table with the Vision, “I've been going over the witness video that was shot the day the other Avengers died. So far, I've been unable to crack the digital mapping that blurred the perpetrators' images, but it's really only a matter of time.”

“Do we really have a lot of time to work with?” a female voice, dipped in a light Russian accent, asked from the back of the room. Natasha Romanoff, the former spy-turned-Avenger named the Black Widow, had made her stealthy way into the room, with none of her teammates the wiser. Emerging from the shadows, the leather-clad redhead tossed a file folder on the Conference table.

“Natasha,” the Vision said as he slid the file folder across to the Beast, “I take it there was success in your mission?”

“SHIELD knows little, unfortunately,” Widow replied as she took a seat, “but I did learn something. Hawkeye's body, as we've seen on the video, was found in the same ruins as Pym and the rest...but he wasn't with them when they arrived. According to the Thunderbolts, Clint was kidnapped at least a week previous to the attack, used as bait in a trap.”

“Here's what I propose,” McCoy stated as he finished a quick read of the Widow's file folder, “I want you all to go to the site where the battle occurred and go through it with a fine tooth comb. Anything that might have been overlooked initially could prove invaluable now. Widow and I shall remain here and attempt to crack this video manipulation.”

The rest of the group nodded in agreement, quickly making their way out of the room. Within moments, only Hank and Natasha remained. “Nice to see you taking the initiative like this, McCoy,” the Russian stated.

“I had to send them out, to ease their need to be doing something more than sitting around,” Hank replied, turning his attentions yet again to the computer monitors.

“It's an action past due, Beast. It's time for us to do what we should have been doing from the start of all this.”

“That would be...?”

“We're the Avengers,” she responded coldly, “time for us to do some actual avenging.”

The boot-jets of the armored War Machine collided with the broken pavement, setting him slowly to the ground with a hiss of pressurized air. Sensors buzzed through the inside of his helmet, scanning the environment for any sign of life, sensitive to any movement or heat source in the area. “Come on in guys,” he stated with an electronic buzz in his voice, “the coast is clear.”

Moments later, the remaining Avengers made their way to War Machine's side. The Vision took point, assuming command in the Beast's absence, promptly ordering the team to fan out.

“Notice anything odd?” Tigra asked as she walked next to Wonder Man, “There's not a single person on the street. No cars, no nothing.”

“The public's been ordered to stay away from this area, after what happened,” Simon replied, “out of fear of what might happen next.”

“Makes sense,” she purred, “I guess.”

The computer systems of Avengers Mansion hummed in silent pause, the Conference Room momentarily abandoned by the two heroes that had previously been working diligently on the video feeds they'd acquired. The Beast and the Black Widow had taken a much-deserved break from their activities, leaving the room barren and empty...or so they had thought.

The unknown individual crept through the darkened room, his gray skin bathed in the blue glow of the computer monitors. His hands gilded across the keyboards, accessing information that normally would take months to crack open. The Avengers had left their files open, a mistake that would cost them dearly.

The video of the heroes' murder began playing on one monitor, other information files popping up on others. The hands of the intruder clicked on the keyboard, bringing up any scrap of information pertaining to the current case. Another button forcefully planted itself into the keyboard, a red question box popping up immediately.

[THIS ACTION WILL DELETE SECURED FILES. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE?]

“Oh, yes,” he muttered with a smile of pure malice, “yes I would.”

“Mr. McCoy, Sir,” the voice of the Mansion's loyal butler, Edwin Jarvis, sounded from the door, “I thought you were upstairs with Madame Romanoff?”

Jarvis realized his folly as the control chair swiveled around to reveal not the Beast, but a stone face of grim harshness. “Victim number one,” the Grey Gargoyle stated with a smile, “you just elected yourself.”

“Quite a motley crew we've got assembled here, don't you think?”

The Black Widow and the Beast, taking a break from their code-breaking mission, shared a drink in the Mansion's kitchen. Hank cocked an interested eye at the Widow's question, “I was thinking the same thing. I trust Vision's judgment, though...he wouldn't have picked who he did without reason.”

“I agree,” she said, “though if you need anyone to talk to, I'm always open. I used to be the Chairperson; I know what a burden it can be.”

“I appreciate that, Natasha,” Beast related with a smile. He paused for moment before speaking again, “Why hasn't anyone called in Thor?”

A look of confusion came over the Widow's face, but her answer was cut off by a screaming alarm, causing both Avengers to reflexively jump from their positions. A small computer screen flipped up from the table top, displaying a flashing INTRUDER ALERT: ALARM ACTIVATED IN CONFERENCE ROOM. The two immediately dropped their drinks, racing to the source of the alarm.

“Jarvis must have activated it!” Beast stated to his teammate as they reached the basement floor of the Mansion. The doors opened to reveal a gray fist, which promptly collided with Hank's face. The Gargoyle swung again, missing the evasive Widow as she dove past him and into the open hallway.

“The Grey Gargoyle?” she asked as she let loose a roundhouse kick to the back of his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Bah! I had hoped to slip away unnoticed,” the villain said as the Widow dodged yet another one of his blows, “but no matter now.”

“A little late for that, my geologically enhanced adversary,” the recovered Beast said as he landed on the Gargoyle's neck, his legs firmly wrapping around his face. The mutant lurched forward, his momentum sending the villain flipping through the air, until he finally collided with the room's far wall.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” the Gargoyle screamed as he lunged back toward the Beast, colliding with the Avenger's midsection. The villain's hands missed their mark, though, connecting instead with the wall behind his opponent. The wall immediately transformed from steel to stone, the effect of the Grey Gargoyle's touch. Taking the opportunity, the Beast jumped straight up, grasping a series of pipes on the ceiling. The Gargoyle tried in vain to reach him, cursing the entire time.

To his surprise, a surge of pain made its way down his back. He turned, seeing the Black Widow a few feet away, preparing to launch yet another blast from her wrist bracelet. “I suggest surrendering.”

“Surrender?” he laughed, “To the likes of you?” The demon lunged forward again, attempting to connect his stone hands with the Widow's throat. She stepped back, narrowly evading his attack, her back finding itself firmly placed against the wall. The villain lunged yet again, this time aiming for her heart.

“You picked the wrong time to mess with us,” she said as she quickly stepped to the side, revealing a small box that was on the wall. The Gargoyle's eyes widened as he failed to slow his momentum. His fists crashed through the electrical box, causing several thousand volts of electricity to be sent coursing through his stone body. The intruder screamed in pain for a brief moment before finally collapsing onto the floor.

“That takes care of that,” Natasha stated as she looked at the unconscious villain, “Hank, where are you?”

“Oh no,” she heard him say from just inside the Conference Room door. Natasha walked in and placed her hand on his fuzzy shoulder, not noticing what had shocked her teammate. He pointed to the far wall, where a stone monstrosity stood frozen, bonded to the wall in an appalling cruelty.

“Is that...?” Natasha began, unable to choke the words out of her throat.

Chapter Two: Symphony of Destruction

The sun had fallen behind the monolithic eclipse of the city skyline, blanketing the streets in a momentary darkness. The streetlights activated automatically, providing the artificial light that powered the city during the A.M. hours. The Avenger called Tigra purred in the moonlight, her fur shining as she slinked her way up a building fire escape. Her eyes had already adjusted to the low light, though her sight was arguably better at night anyway.

She could hear the conversations being held between her fellow Avengers far below, her hearing being one of her keenest senses. As she reached the top of the fire escape, a simple extension of her legs propelled her to the roof ledge. She sat on the ledge for a moment, thinking about the people assembled in the mansion below her. Simon was down there, a man she'd once had a relationship with. Everyone thought that the two were nothing more than former lovers and that they had both moved on. Tigra had convinced herself of this as well, but now it was different. He was in love with another woman, her friend and teammate Wanda Maximoff. She wasn't sure if that upset her or not…maybe it was just the animal in her that was jealous. Simon was, after all, a perfect male specimen.

She crossed the roof about halfway before she realized she was still on all fours, cursing herself for letting the act slip by her. The thought of the animal taking control scared her, making her afraid of becoming more feline than female. She walked the rest of the roof's expanse in the upright position, holding and stroking her tail as a form of stress relief.

The events of the day still hadn't quite sunk into her mind yet. They had buried Captain America . The strongest, greatest man she had ever met was dead and gone. Things like that weren't supposed to happen in her world…the good guys were supposed to win and the bad guys were supposed to go to jail. The heroes weren't supposed to die, it wasn't how it was supposed to be, and now yet another was positioned before Death's door. Edwin Jarvis, the team's faithful butler, had received serious injuries at the hands of the Grey Gargoyle. Jarvis could be dead, while Captain America and the other Avengers were already dead…but that wasn't what upset her the most.

If they could die…if Captain America could be killed by an enemy…then what would stop them from killing her ?

Suddenly, her feline senses screamed at her. The scent hit her like a sledgehammer, a smell of sweat, grease, and cigarettes. Her head jerked to the right, the scent's location pinpointed by her feline nose. Her vision made out the form of a large man standing in the rooftop shadows, his yellow teeth shining in the moonlight.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…” he said tauntingly as he stepped forward. He wore a green jumpsuit, covered in grease and oil, and his face was covered by a purple ski mask. Tigra tensed her muscles, preparing to leap at the stranger. He simply laughed.

“In case you don't recognize me, little pussy,” he said as he raised a crowbar into view, “people call me the Wrecker. I'm here to kill you.”

“Damnation!” Henry McCoy shouted at the top of his lungs, his fist pounding a large chunk out of the laboratory table in front of him. The stone disfigurement that had been Edwin Jarvis rested on an autopsy gurney, surrounded by the current team of Avengers. The Beast was the only hope the team had in saving their beloved colleague, and to see him as just as hopelessly frustrated made their hopes plummet into despair.

“Is there anything you can do for him?” Simon asked as he placed his hand on the stone figure.

“As far as I can determine,” Hank replied, readjusting the glasses that sat across his furry nose, “the process is irreversible. Without the chemical-slash-physical transmutation catalyst provided by the Gargoyle, there's really nothing I can do.”

“Where is he?” Wanda asked coldly. “Where's the Gargoyle?”

“He's in the lock-up,” Hank replied as he turned back toward Jarvis' body, “Natasha put him there after his capture. He evidently told her something, because she left as soon as he was imprisoned.”

“Where did she go?” Vision asked.

“She didn't say,” Hank stated, “could it be that she knows something we don't?”

The darkness covered her skin-tight bodysuit as she made her way through the ventilation shafts. She'd been moving for over an hour through the narrow tunnels, and the descent down the long vertical shaft was taking way too long for her liking. The small suction-cups affixed to the fingertips of her gloves and the soles of her boots made the downward trek as simple as walking upright, but it was such times that made her wish she'd kept her red hair cut to a short bob.

Natalia Alianova Romanova was an old hat at such endeavors, what with her time spent as a Russian spy in years past. She'd taken the name of the Black Widow for more than one reason, the death of her husband chiming in as an unfortunate coincidence. Every relationship she'd attempted to procure had ended badly, though she'd luckily remained friends with most of the heroic men she'd been involved with. Recently, however, two of the aforementioned lovers had met their untimely demise at the hands of unknown assassins. Tony Stark and Clint Barton were two of her closest friends, and it was for them that she'd resumed her role as an Avenger.

Natasha felt guilty for ditching her teammates, but the information procured from the Grey Gargoyle had changed her entire view of the situation. There was no one left to trust but herself, but she didn't mind. Charging headfirst into the lion's den was what gave her the biggest thrill.

The Black Widow grinned to herself as her imagination ran with ideas. The Gargoyle had given up his employer's location, but not his name…but she didn't care. He was a dead man, regardless of his name.

“What did you tell her?” Wonder Man yelled as he slammed the Gargoyle against the cell wall. “Where did the Widow go, you son of a bitch?”

The villain remained silent, the malicious grin still stretched across his stone face. Simon planted an ionic-fueled punch to the man's midsection, cracking and splitting his rock body, and still he smirked. “An even better question,” the Vision spoke up, “is how we can reverse what you've done to Jarvis.”

“That's the beauty of it all,” the Gargoyle finally said, “because you can't reverse it. That's beyond even my abilities…how can you expect me to call down the thunder and then tell it to go away?”

“Then that's it,” Simon said as he advanced toward the villain, “we don't need you anymore. You know what we do to useless, washed-up super villains?”

“You won't do anything to me,” the creature laughed. “You won't kill me, so what does that leave, jail? I'll be out in a month, mark my words.”

“Listen closely,” Wanda stated, pushing her way in front of the enraged Wonder Man, “we've witnessed the murders of our own. You came into our house and killed yet another. We have no mercy toward you…if you don't tell us what we want to hear we will take care of you. Permanently.”

“Do your worst, hero,” he spat, “I dare you.”

Tigra was tiring. The energy blasts that came from the Wrecker's crowbar blistered by her at fantastic speeds, her agility keeping her only seconds away from death. “Come on, you loser! You can do better than that!”

“Oh, I'm gonna make you hurt all night long, little pussy!” the uncouth villain screamed as his energy blasts subsided. The Wrecker charged, barreling toward the feline heroine with the momentum of a large animal.

“Such a talker,” Tigra purred as she leapt over her attacker, planting a solid kick to the back of his head, “and I bet you wouldn't last five minutes.”

“I'm gonna shove this crowbar where the sun don't shine, baby. Well, with that outfit you've got on, the sun probably shines there too…” the villain mocked as he swung his arm backwards, clipping the woman's back with the tip of his weapon.

Tigra fell into a forward roll, ignoring the searing pain in the small of her back. She knew she couldn't last much longer against such an opponent, as he had yet to even break a sweat. She prayed for the other Avengers to hurry up and assist her, but she was a little worried. After all, if the Wrecker had made it that far through the Mansion's security systems, would the rest of the team even know they were fighting?

“Lick on this, pussy cat!” the criminal yelled as another flare of energy erupted outward from his crowbar. This time, Tigra leapt not away from her foe, but straight toward him. The two collided as his crowbar energized yet again, the weapon striking the ground below them furiously. The roof of Avengers Mansion collapsed beneath them, both warriors falling through the plaster and stone into the interior of the building.

“You wouldn't dare…” The Gargoyle stammered, “you're the heroes. You can't stoop to our level.”

“Tell me what you think of this idea,” the Scarlet Witch replied as she took a seat, crossing her bare legs into a calm position, “because I'm rather taking a shine to it.” She waved her hand in the air, brushing away the seething Wonder Man. Vision took his arm, leading him out of the room and leaving Ms. Maximoff alone with the killer.

“You know who I am, I imagine,” Wanda said in an almost pleasant voice. “I may have even fought you at one point throughout the years; because god knows all you villains start to look exactly the same to me. Only the really evil…the really powerful ones…stick out in our minds. You, you're nothing to us. You're a petty little crook that got lucky and killed a sweet, innocent man that posed no threat at all to you.”

“I indeed know who you are, woman,” the Gargoyle sneered, “and you can say what you want about me. I killed your butler, the fat little man that couldn't run fast enough to escape my touch. I enjoyed killing him, slowly sealing his flesh with my stone…pure ecstasy, I tell you.”

“Like I was saying,” Wanda continued, ignoring the fiend's statements, “about that idea of mine. Since you know who I am, you must know what I can do, right? Well, just to refresh your memory a little, my power comes from something called Chaos Magic. I control probability; I make things that were seemingly impossible happen, like for instance…transforming you back to flesh and blood.”

“That's imposs…”

“Impossible?” the Witch interrupted. “Not impossible, simply im-probable . Now listen to me very carefully, cretin. There's an Avenger standing beyond that door named Wonder Man, and he wouldn't hesitate to come in here and beat the answers to our questions out of you. In your stone form, you would probably survive unharmed…but flesh and blood?”

“You wouldn't…would you?”

“Try me, Gargoyle. These are desperate times for us…and if we do become like you, then so be it.”

“I…fine. Get your insipid team in here. I'll tell you what I know, what I told the red-haired wench that threw me in here.”

“That's what I like to hear…” Wanda said as she uncrossed her legs and began to stand. Suddenly, a large crash was heard overhead, followed by what sounded like the shriek of a cat. The Witch ran out the door just as the ceiling caved in on top of her fellow Avengers.

“Gangway!” Tigra shouted as she fell through the ceiling, followed immediately by the Wrecker and several large chunks of debris. The rest of the team moved in stunned silence, evading the collapsing roof. The feline female rolled and dodged as she hit the floor on fours, the Wrecker making a less graceful landing flat on his back.

“Is that the Wrecker ?” James Rhodes, encased in the War Machine armor, asked as he pulverized a large piece of concrete that fell toward him. “Is this like lame-ass villain day, or something?”

“Oh man, time for the main event, kitty cat?” the former construction worker asked as he shuffled to his feet. The Avengers, five in total, surrounded the intruder, looks of confusion evident in their expressions.

“Sit your ass down,” Simon stated as he saw the Gargoyle coming out of the cell door. A piece of cinder block left Wonder Man's hand, striking the stone creature in the back of the head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

“You losers ain't takin' me alive!” The Wrecker yelled, flinging his crowbar in an erratic fashion. Almost immediately after, the powerhouse began to smack his own head violently. “Ow, what the hell? Stop that!”

The heroes gave each other a few sideways glances, not really understand what their opponent was doing. He continued to smack away at his mask, with the blows gradually escalating to full force punches. Finally, with one last thunderous punch, the Wrecker knocked himself out.

“Um…what just happened here?” Tigra asked as she knocked dust off of her fur.

“I happened,” a barely audible voice said from out of nowhere. The Avengers all glanced around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever owned the tiny voice. Suddenly a tiny dot in the air expanded, growing rapidly into the form of a beautiful woman in a skin-tight yellow jumpsuit. A black helmet, adorned with antennae, rested atop her head, complimenting a costume the rest of the heroes recognized immediately.

“Janet?” Wanda asked, still in disbelief.

“Hi, Wanda,” the Wasp replied as she removed the helmet, “looks like I got here just in time.”

“Wasp,” Vision said as he approached, “I can't help but notice the uniform change.”

“I'm not the Wasp anymore, Vision,” she replied coldly, “in memory of Hank, you can now officially call me Yellowjacket .”

Natasha had lost track of how far into the tunnel system she'd traveled. The downward shaft had gone on for a least a mile, connecting with an even longer horizontal duct. She knew she was getting close, however…she could hear a voice.

Light poured into the tunnel through the grate, a welcome sight to the Widow's eyes. The male voice sounded familiar to her, but not so much that she could place the person's identity. Positioning herself over the grate, she watched the figures below her moving in the candlelight as the commanding voice continued to speak.

“Have you recovered the body?” the leader asked, hidden from the spy's view from above. The masked cronies all nodded their heads affirmatively in perfect unison, a sluggish quality to their movements.

“No time like the present,” Natasha whispered as she placed herself directly above the grate. Her foot slammed down on the metal, the momentum busting the entrance wide open. As she fell into the open room, the hooded minions all looked up in mute surprise. Taking a quick view of her situation, the former Avengers leader let loose two stun blasts from her wristband as she hit the floor.

While two of her opponents were taken down by her surprise attack, four more rushed toward her. The redhead smirked as she spun an outstretched leg, the bottom of her boot connecting hard with the jaws of the first two that reached her. The third managed to grab hold of her ankle before she could pull back, upon which act he promptly received a stun blast to the face. Natasha found it odd that her foes made no sound as they fell, but paid it no mind as she planted the palm of her hand under the nose of the fourth attacker.

“Let's see that beautiful face of yours,” she muttered, ripping the hooded mask away from the last enemy. She recoiled at the sight of his decaying visage, the putridity of his decomposition hitting her nostrils with an almost physical force. “You're…you're already dead…”

Suddenly, the Widow jerked forward, a large curved blade violently ripping its way through her back and out her stomach. Tears ran down her face as her body went numb from the pain, her death remarked by the bellowed laughter of her executioner.

She was dead a moment later.

“I was hired to come in here and delete all the findings you'd accumulated concerning the murder of your teammates,” the newly awakened Gargoyle said slowly, “in much the same way as the Wrecker, I'd imagine.”

“Did you commit any of the murders?” Wanda asked, flanked by her six teammates.

“Unfortunately, I did not,” he laughed, “though what a sweet feeling that would have been.”

“Keep it up,” Rhodes stated, the buzzing and whirring of his armor's weapon system coming to life complimenting his threat.

“I know what you want to know, heheheh . You want to know what I told the redhead earlier. You want to know what sent her off alone, what kept her from telling you all what she had learned. How do you think the Wrecker and I made it into your house as far as we did without raising every alarm you've got?”

“That is a good question,” the Beast responded, “care to enlighten us?”

“My employer has an inside line into the heart of your operations, Avengers. We had a key…I'm not privy to who, but one of you let me in. One of you is not who you think they are.”

The heroes all took a collective step back, the implications of the scoundrel's revelation making too much sense that it should. Each member began to glance at the others, thoughts running rampant through their minds. Could one of them truly be a traitor, willingly helping the person responsible for their allies' assassinations?

“Oh, your expressions are priceless,” the captive giggled. “But to answer your earlier question, I sent the Widow to my employer's location, after I gave her said details about the status of her teammates, that is.”

“Who hired you?” Simon asked through gritted teeth.

“Somebody who knows you very well, I'd imagine…” the Gargoyle confessed, “The Grim Reaper.”

“How's Simon handling things?” Hank asked as he and Wanda sat by themselves in the Quinjet. The rest of the team sat in silence in the front of the jet, their enemy's destination locked in their minds. The Gargoyle had eagerly given up the Reaper's location, so eagerly that the heroes immediately realized that it had to be a trap. They were being set up, but that usually seemed to come with the job.

“He's understandably upset,” Wanda replied softly, “the Reaper is his brother, someone he had hoped we'd seen the last of after our last encounter.”

“I'm still trying to wrap my brain around this whole infiltration business,” Hank related, “and I believe there's some credence to our captive's statements.”

“I agree, though reluctantly. It's hard to think of one of our friends being against us all this time.”

“Wanda, as much as I hate to say it…you're the only one that's above my suspicions here. The rest have been acting odd, you have to admit.”

“Janet's sudden appearance did strike me as rather coincidental,” Wanda said carefully, as to not let the others overhear, “perhaps she's distraught over Hank's death, doing things she wouldn't normally do?”

“I think we just need to watch our backs once we get to the Reaper's location, Wanda,” Hank said as he placed a furry hand on his friend's bare knee, “just to be on the safe side.”

“Eric, the Avengers have arrived topside…should I prepare the Legion?”

Eric Williams, the Grim Reaper to his enemies, sat on his throne of bodies, the scythe attached to his hand glowing with an eerie incandescence. His aide, the voodoo master known as the Black Talon, stood to his left. The Reaper only paid half attention to his ally's comments, brushing him away with a swipe of his hand. “Yes, yes, go on…it will take them at least an hour to make their way into these catacombs.”

Talon nodded and went about his way, retreating into a darkened tunnel. The zombie slaves, deceased victims of the Reaper, milled around doing odd jobs in preparation of the Avengers' coming assault. The scythe wielder scowled. He knew that his charade would eventually be knocked away, that the Scarlet Witch would soon know the truth. It wouldn't matter, though…there was as much a chance of her stopping him as there was of an ice-cube extinguishing the sun.

The ground began to shake, violently and without warning, knocking the villain off his throne and onto the ground. The rumblings grew closer as the zombies attempted to regain their footing, but were still on the ground when the ceiling above them exploded in a hail of debris. Erupting from the dust cloud was the ionic charged Wonder Man, screaming his brother's name at the top of his lungs. Directly behind the crackling juggernaut came the rest of the Avengers, grim determination evident in their stone faces.

“Took less time than I thought,” the Reaper muttered as he watched the zombies leap to his protection. The heroes easily tossed away the minions, Simon making his way to his brother within seconds.

“This is it, Eric!” Wonder Man yelled, picking up his brother by his shirt. “This ends now!”

“Oh, you have no idea, you half-wit,” the villain remarked as his scythe again began to glow. A blast of energy struck Simon full-force in the back, causing the hero undeniable pain. The Reaper landed on his feet as Wonder Man's grip relaxed, but Simon was not down for good. He turned to see who had struck him from behind, a moment of shock setting in for him and the rest of his teammates.

“Well struck, slave,” Eric said as smoke rose from the War Machine's palms. The rest of the Avengers watched as the armored Jim Rhodes slowly removed his helmet to reveal the decaying features of his living-dead form

The Grim Reaper could only laugh.

Chapter Three: The Threads Unraveled

The stench was the first to assault their senses, the putrid smell of decayed flesh and decomposing tissue. The collected Avengers couldn't believe the revelation before them, as one of their own – James Rhodes, the War Machine – had only moments ago removed his helmet for the first time since their mission had began. He was obviously long dead, a bullet hole oozing pus and putridity down the lines of his hardened face. Eric Williams, the man responsible not only for Rhodes ' condition but for the assassinations of ten other Avengers, laughed maniacally as his armored sentinel, now a rampaging zombie, glared at the heroes. Thoughts flashed quickly through the six remaining Avengers, each one attempting to regain their composition.

The Beast – Henry McCoy had only recently rejoined the ranks of his former team, having spent years with the mutant X-Men. He had speculated on the identity of the supposed traitor in their midst, but never in his wildest dreams had he suspected the militaristic Rhodes as being the culprit. The blue fur that covered his body stood on end, the electromagnetism of the recently revived dead charging the air around him.

Wonder Man – The brother of the criminally insane Grim Reaper, Simon Williams seethed with rage. His sibling had attempted to kill him and his friends for years, but he couldn't comprehend how the madman had actually succeeded. His thoughts were now split between seeing his brother broken in his hands and concern felt for the woman he loved. The woman that just happened to be standing next to him.

The Scarlet Witch – She'd felt it before it happened. Wanda Maximoff, mutant sorceress, had realized the condition of their traitorous friend only moments before his revelation. If only she'd had more time, time to focus her power on uncovering anything out of the ordinary. That was an understatement, she quickly realized, as the entire time since the first Avenger murder had seemed strange. Oddly surreal. Unreal.

The Vision – The synthetic man with the heart and mind of his friend and ally, Simon Williams, shifted his density from ethereal to stone hard. He'd managed to keep his composure as his teammates died around him, to be the cold and calculated robot that everybody expected him to be. Upon the invasion of the Grim Reaper's hideout, however, all of his composure was gone. He felt the same rage as his human “brother”, Simon…only he felt no emotions of compassion toward anyone at that moment.

Yellowjacket – Janet Van Dyne, previously known as the Wasp, was at a crossroads. She was face to face with the man that had murdered the one person she loved more than anyone else. The Grim Reaper had taken her beloved Henry Pym from her, the former Avenger whose identity she had taken as her own in the persona of Yellowjacket. Though her courage in the face of danger was unwavering, she didn't know if she had it in her to exact the revenge she so desperately wanted.

Tigra – The feline heroine named Tigra felt completely different than her teammates. Where the feelings of anger and betrayal also sat within her, she was overpowered by a sense of unstaring fear. She was the least powerful of the assembled Avengers, and if such people as Iron Man and Captain America had fallen before the Reaper, then what chance did she have to stop him?

Eric Williams broke off his laughter, though the malevolent grin was still affixed to his face. “My most hated enemies,” he said through yellowed teeth, “I have another surprise for you.” The Avengers tensed themselves for whatever the villain had prepared for them, but the six people that emerged from the catacombs surrounding them were surprising enough to take even the Vision back a step. Rotting as they walked, the eyes of the half-dozen zombies were alit with a fire of hatred and contempt.

Iron Man, Giant-Man, Hawkeye, the Black Panther, and the Black Widow flanked the heroes, all of them recent victims of the Reaper's insanity. The leader of the unliving legion was the biggest shock of all, however. “Please, not this,” Tigra whispered to herself, as the decayed body of Captain America made its way forward.

In the span of a single second, a solitary blink of the eye, everything had changed. Gone were the stone walls of the underground crypt, replaced by a lush covering of trees. Tigra looked around her environment in confusion, finding herself very alone under the starry sky of the jungle. “Jan? Hank? Where is everybody?”

“They've left you alone, Miss Nelson.” The man's voice was deep and rich, nearly warm, almost a comfort. Shadows moved in the high branches of a tree before her: Tigra blinked, shuddering, as an onyx face without features turned to glare down at her with eyes as cold and white and frozen as Antarctica . A second blink of luminous green cat's eyes and the shadows had coalesced into the shape of a man, lithe and muscular and coiled to pounce. “It's just you and I. Little kitten.”

“No...” Her legs trembled beneath her. Of their volition, her hands rose as if to ward him off. “Black Panther...T'Challa...please...I can't...”

The creature that had been the Black Panther chuckled, his laughter low and inhuman.

“No?” he asked. “What is it that you cannot do, I wonder. Such a sad, strange little girl. Why did you join the Avengers, little girl? Over and over, you join, disgrace yourself, and return only to fail yet again, each time in a fashion more spectacular than the last. You know why they keep letting you back into their ranks, of course.”

Tigra swallowed hard, straightening herself. She narrowed her eyes, though they stung. Her fingers hooked into claws.

“Yeah,” she said. “ I know why. You want me to show you?”

“I have been waiting.” A flash of white light as the Panther drew an energy dagger. “Shall we?”

The Black Panther leapt from the treetop, his crackling blade poised to strike. Tigra hissed and flew at him. She sank her razored nails into the soft flesh of an eye, and then lunged forward to plunge her fangs into the Panther's cheek. The two figures twisted in mid-air: Tigra saw a thick green pus slick her hand, then a flash of electric white that scalded her vision; in the next instant, she was on the floor of the jungle and rolling as pain exploded through her ribcage. She came to a stop on her belly, and then pressed her hands to the overgrown earth to hoist herself up...only to collapse onto her face.

The Panther laughed.

Tigra lifted her head and saw her opponent standing a few yards away. The knife hummed and glowed in his iron grip, casting illumination that strobed over the half of his face that was now unmasked: Greenish-gray and rotting, the cold flesh; a vile ochre slicked the yawning socket that once cradled his left eye. Slowly, he approached her. “Would you like a hand?”

“Go to hell!” Tigra tried to lift herself off the ground a second time – and saw what it was that so amused the Panther. The meaning of his little bon mot.

Her right arm ended in a hairless pink scar. The hand was nowhere to be seen.

“Uhhh,” Tigra said, her huge eyes welling with tears. “Oh...oh...”

“Cauterized,” the Panther told her. “The blade is hot. You'll feel that tomorrow. Or you would.”

“Oh, God.” She could only stare at the injury; it was incomprehensible. “I'm dead.”

“What is remarkable to me,” the Panther said, “is that it is only now that you feel defenseless. Who would fight Ultron in a bikini? Unless, of course, one was not there to fight crime at all.”

“Wuh...wuh...what d'you...”

“Whore.” The Panther stopped before her fallen body and gazed down in disgust. “You know full well what I mean. How many of them have you rolled with? The Avengers is a fertilization clinic to you. Never imagined you'd actually have to act like a hero, did you? Always some burly man with a nose full of your spoor would be there to leap to your defense, so that you might cheer him on from the sidelines...while grooming yourself, no doubt.”

“It's...” Her mouth fell open. She clutched the stump of her arm protectively. “It's not true! I...”

His foot shot out to strike her face. Tigra crumpled, her jaw broken. Blood smeared her mouth.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Do you think the dead have no urges? Take off your little scraps. Switch your tail for me.”

She stared up at the dead man, grinding her teeth. He only laughed still again.

“Or...” He dropped the knife on the ground before her. Its radiant light played over the tracks of her tears. “You wouldn't like to make me take that away from you, so don't be stupid. But you may submit to my whims – or finish my task for me. Which will it be, little kitten?”

Tigra nodded, sucking back her tears...then snatched up the energy dagger and plunged it into her own heart.

“Oh, dear,” Hank McCoy said.

The Danger Room. Dimly-lit and largely empty, save for the Beast and the danger in question, to wit: The rotting revenant of Hank's former teammate, Clint Barton – Hawkeye. Who stood on the opposite end of the steel arena, training an arrow on him. One with a razor-sharp tip.

“Never did like ya, ya scary blue mutie freak,” Hawkeye snarled.

“Hmmmm.” Hank straightened his granny glasses. “Not only is that racist, Clint, but it's flatly not true. I distinctly recall our bonding over the Die Hard trilogy. Though we never could come to a consensus on Nascar. Then again, only one of us reached adulthood whilst residing in a trailer.”

Hawkeye sneered to flash blackened tombstone teeth. “Tell Dale Earnhart I said hello.”

Hank bounded above the whistling shaft, which shattered against the wall at his back. “I should think you would have had the opportunity yourself, being, to put it indelicately, dead.”

“Stop talkin'!” The purple-clad archer launched explosive arrows, morning star arrows, arrows that spat fire and arrows that emitted ear-shattering siren howls – all to no avail. “Even if I didn't haveta do it, I'd kill ya just so I didn't have to listen to that freakin' mouth of yours!”

“Rigor mortis has had a ghastly effect on your reflexes, Clint. The only problem I'm encountering is the difficulty in keeping my spectacles affixed to my head in the midst of all this chaos.”

“Get contacts!” Hawkeye was shooting them two at a time now, faster and faster.

“Who knew the dead were possessed of such wit? You were scarcely this amusing with a pulse.” Hank curved his back to evade a thermite arrow, then rebounded off the ceiling just in time to escape a flying electrified net. “Curious, too, how all of this activity has alerted none of the X-Men. Not to mention the ludicrous number of arrows in your portable arsenal. All of which leads me to wonder...” He reached into the back pocket of his Dockers while doing a backflip over a buzzsaw arrow. A moment later, he produced a credit-card-thin Texas Instruments calculator. “Please, continue your barrage and your endearingly Deliverance- esque homicidal hayseed routine. I'm a skilled multi-tasker.”

“You're about to be a skilled freakin' undead slave of the freakin' Reaper!” Three at once now. “This is it, monkey boy!”

“I suspect it is not,” Hank said. He furrowed his blue brow and tapped in digits as he bounced from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, right-side-up and upside-down. Dozens of shafts whipped past him. Unfazed, he continued his calculations. “In point of fact, I can only wonder how it was that I didn't before realize that it was not. It all seems so clear now...”

“DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Hank sighed. “It would appear that my faculties sharpen as your repartee dulls. But at least I'm not the only fallible one. Transporting me here, of all places, was probably not the wisest move your Svengali could have made. Do you know...” He ducked to escape yet another burning arrow. “Close. At any rate, it's a little-known secret that we students of the Xavier Academy weren't always prone to playing fair. We got a little competitive with one another. I wouldn't go so far as to say that any of us cheated in the Danger Room...” All at once, Hank stopped moving. He came to a rest in one corner of the room and shrugged. “Okay, I give. Hit me.”

“GRAHHHHHHH!” Hawkeye cried, and rapid-fired five pointed arrows.

“Nice diction, Hawkster.” Hank dropped to the floor and rolled to the opposite wall. The archer's arrows struck the edge of the north wall, rebounded off the edge of the east wall, and hurtled back in the direction from whence they'd come. Clint Barton didn't even get the chance to scream before all five arrows punched through his rotten body like shots from a high-powered rifle. His putrid form split open at the seams, spewing bile.

Hank rose to his feet and blew dust off his furry knuckles. He stuck the calculator back in his pocket with the speed and deftness of a gunslinger holstering his pistol.

“As if I haven't had the co-ordinates of the Danger Room memorized since I was sixteen. Ah, well. What next?”

The Beast vanished.

Janet Van Dyne found herself in darkness, seated on the edge of the bed that felt most familiar. A storm raged outside the window; a harsh, bitter wind threw freezing rain at the glass. She closed her eyes and felt the atmosphere of the bedroom all around her. A terrible chill settled over her soul. She hugged herself.

“I like your costume,” he said from the doorway.

Jan turned in the direction of his voice, but would not open her eyes. Thunder crashed.

“I don't think you'll do it,” she said. “I know what he did...what the Reaper did. But it's different with you and me.”

He came no closer. “Do you really think so?”

She nodded. “I love you. In spite of everything. I always have.”

“When you left me, Jan? What about then?”

“Especially then,” she said to the darkness. “You hit me. The way you treated me...I knew you were sick then. It killed me inside. I didn't think I could ever make you well. But I knew you wouldn't get any better with me there. If I hadn't loved you...if what we'd been wasn't so much better than what we'd become, and I at least wanted to hold on to my memories...then I would have stayed. I would have taken it. But I couldn't do that to myself. I loved the man you really were – the man you are now – I loved you too much to stay with this thing that wasn't you. Not anymore.”

“Oh, Jan.” She felt the mattress bow under his weight as he sat down beside her. His cold hand brushed her smooth, slick cheek; the feel of it, the rotten smell, caused her to recoil. “Jan...”

“No.” She seized his wrist in a firm grip and gently pulled the hand an inch away. “Please don't. It's...just don't.”

“I need you, babe,” he told her. “Don't you get it? You can save me, Jan. You can make me the man I was.”

“I...I will. Somehow, we can fix this. None of you...you're not really...you know. I don't know what the Reaper did to you, but when we get back to the others, you and the Beast can – “

He squeezed her hand. “You can fix me now, Jan. Please.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. He looked back at her, his gaze soulful. His eyes, alive with love and longing, peered out at her from a bloated, gray-skinned face. A tiny red spider emerged from the folds of a lower eyelid and skittered over the glazed surface of an unblinking eye.

“H-hank...” she said.

“Love me, Jan,” Hank Pym told her. “It's the only way.”

Her throat constricted. “Huh-how do I kn-know...?”

“You know. Listen to your heart. Love me, like I love you. And then everything will be all right.”

He drew closer to her. Jan's revulsion twisted her head sideways, but then his arms were around her, feeling so right, and she allowed herself to sink into them. She closed her eyes yet again and felt the touch of his hands on her skin...on her face, down on her shoulders, over her breasts. Her lips parted, and Hank's mouth closed over her own. His chilled tongue worked inside her mouth, and she gagged –

Just as his teeth clenched shut like a vise, her tongue trapped between them.

Jan's eyes popped wide. Desperate sounds of strangulation emerged from her throat as she writhed against the hold Hank had on her: Her blood splashed over his grinning ghoul's face. His crushing hands around her windpipe made it the last thing Jan would ever see.

The Vision blinked. Once. Few things surprised him, but he was momentarily taken aback. It was not every day that one encountered the evil, reanimated corpses of his teammates and then suddenly and without warning found himself standing on the surface of Mars.

But there was no question about it: The black, starry sky above; the shifting red sands underneath his feet; the maroon mountains and canyons all around; the absence of oxygen in the atmosphere; the adjustment he was forced to make in his mass to compensate for the change in gravity. How and why were mysterious. Where, on the other hand, could not have been more clear.

Mars, the synthezoid thought. Interesting.

And silent. The Vision did not hear the lumbering, armored figure at his back. His artificial eyes were trained on the Earth when a huge, gauntleted red fist burst through his chest. The Vision looked down at it and prepared to go intangible, but the damage done was much too grievous: Soundless lightning crackled out of the automaton's pores, and a series of zeroes and ones poured through his mind. His attacker's opposite hand landed on the back of the Vision's head, and it was wrenched free of the shoulders an instant after.

Iron Man drove his fist up the length of the synthezoid's throat and ripped out the circuitry he found within. He crushed the salad of wires of cogs in his grip and let the hollowed head drop to the red desert's floor.

Then the creature that had been Tony Stark stood there. He might have been standing there for no more than sixty seconds. He may have been standing there for a thousand centuries. It was all the same to him.

Then he vanished.

Simon Williams thought for a moment that he was standing on the surface of the moon. Black sky above; a freezing, terrible cold all around; pitted white sands as far as the eye could see. But no. For one thing, he could breathe.

For another, this lunar desert was full of demolished corpses.

“Turn and face me, Simon,” a rough voice said from behind him. “I'm no backshooter.”

“No,” Wonder Man whispered. Why did it have to be him?

Simon turned to see the desiccated corpse he shared this battlezone with. The red, white and blue tatters of the monster's uniform twisted in the wind, revealing the withered green putrescence underneath. Captain America 's lipless mouth flashed yellow teeth set in a perpetual sneer. Even the shield on his arm was befouled with the dirt of the grave.

“Some things never change,” Captain America rasped. In the distance, the night was lit by a concussive bomb-burst that rumbled the earth beneath their feet.

Simon shook his head, desperate to get his bearings. “Where are we?”

“Take a guess.”

“Good God,” Simon said, taking it all in. “Are we in Afghanistan ?”

“Maybe,” the Captain replied. “Does it even matter? We're in a place that Washington has decided doesn't need to exist anymore. When you don't have any resources, they call you a terrorist. This is war.”

Simon reeled. “My God, it's...it's terrible...”

Captain America laughed bitterly. “Grow a pair, Williams. This is what it's all about. These goddamn camel jockeys won't be screwing with the USA a second time. Nobody does. Makes a man proud. Damn proud.”

“No,” Simon said. His eyes flashed energy. “No way! You expect me to believe you're Cap? What, is this some stab at demoralizing me? Forget it! I know what Captain America is about. Not for one second would he think there was anything good about the loss of innocent lives, no matter what the cause. Even if there was no other way, he'd never say this was for the good.”

“That man believed a lot of things,” Captain America said. “A lot of impractical ideals he swallowed whole. Things his country told him so he wouldn't see the truth. Look where it got him.”

Simon grinned and shook his head. “ America didn't kill Cap,” he said. “My psycho brother did. But he obviously couldn't figure out how to kill me. So he sent you to talk me to death.”

“Eric just wants you to see the light, Simon. You're his brother. Brothers take care of each other. That's the American way.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. That did it.”

A clash of knuckles and metal as Simon's fist crashed into Cap's shield. Wonder Man's fist left skin and blood on its besmirched surface.

“See, son?” the creature asked. “Can't beat America . Can't be done. And – “ Simon grabbed the corpse by its shoulder and tore the withered shield-arm out at the socket. Cap goggled. “What the hell are you doing?! I'M CAPTAIN AMERICA !”

“Nice try,” Simon said, cocking his fist back. “I give you about a D-plus.”

Wonder Man's fist plowed through the zombie's skull. The shriveled frame that crashed to earth did so without a head.

Simon crossed his arms in front of him and turned his eyes skyward.

“Pathetic, Eric. Take me home.”

Simon Williams vanished.

“Well, well,” Natasha Romanov said, and slicked her blue lips with her tongue. “I was hoping to kill a man. But I suppose a woman who'd settle for a robot in the sack isn't much of a woman at all. You can buy self-abuse devices in most reputable porn shops, Wanda. You didn't have to marry one just because it talks.”

The Scarlet Witch nearly swooned, disoriented as she was to abruptly find herself high atop Wundagore Mountain . The sky above was black, and roiled with storm clouds. It had been years...and she certainly never expected her next visit to occur when she was magically transported to do battle with the undead Black Widow. You never quite knew what might happen next when you were an Avenger...

Natasha laughed. Her face had gone deathly pale, white as chalk save for the black around her eyes and the horrible cold blue of her lips; the blood-red tresses that blew all around her evil features matched the ghastly penetration in her abdomen. Natasha inserted two fingers into the wound and extracted them to wiggle blood-daubed digits at the Witch. “Like it? I always thought the costume needed a red hourglass on the belly. I suppose this works just as well.”

Wanda knitted her brow. “The Reaper made a terrible mistake,” she seethed. “First, I am much more powerful here. Second, I have always hated you.”

Natasha air-kissed at her. “Come on, Wanda. You know you want some of the Widow. Hell, everybody else does. And has, for that matter.”

“Die, dead thing.” Wanda raised her hands above her head and lifted a foot above the rocky soil to weave a hex-bolt. Crimson energy arced from the juncture of her gloved hands and struck the stones around the Widow, which became grasping hands. They caught hold of their supple prey, which twisted in their grasp; the Widow's hand shot forth to blast a sting at her opponent.

“No,” Wanda said, eyes closed meditatively. One hand flattened a palm against the air and – altering probability from sheer reflex – deflected the shot. More followed in rapid succession, all to the same effect.

“Damn!” the Widow cried, her voice a howl of frustration. “This isn't fair! Get these damned things off me so we can fight! Coward!”

Wanda seemed to stir from sleep. She raised an eyebrow. “You know, Natasha, certain things dawn on me only now. How is it that the Reaper was able to send us here? I wasn't aware that this sort of thing was a part of his repertoire. Many things make very little sense about this. Very little sense indeed.”

“You're afraid! Well, you SHOULD be afraid! It won't be long before you're – “

Wanda sighed. “Okay, Natasha. Have it your way.” She snapped her fingers and told her constructs: “Let her go.”

“Finally!” The hands relaxed, and the Widow jumped down to solid footing. “Now we'll see who's – URRHK!”

Wanda watched impassively, arms folded under her breasts, as the late Natasha Romanov puked out a monstrous gout of blood and noxious waste products. Still, the Widow charged in the direction of her prey – which only pulled free that much more of her intestinal tract. One of those stone hands had grabbed hold of the loose end of the entrails the Widow's abdominal wound left naked, and every step the Widow took further gutted her. Heedless, Natasha kept coming.

Deep in thought, the levitating Witch turned her back and pondered the situation. Widow's stings burst harmlessly in the air around Wanda's head as she rubbed her chin. If not the Reaper, then...?

“Guhhhhh....” Natasha burbled. “...Buhhhhh...bitch!”

A thud as the Widow crashed face-first to the rocks. Dead. Again.

“Hmmmmm,” Wanda mused. “I suppose this, then, would be the moment at which…”

The Scarlet Witch vanished.

…And reappeared exactly where she had started from, flanked by the Beast and Wonder Man.

“Hmmmmm,” she said.

“Oh, thank God!” Simon said, squeezing her arm. “Jesus, I was terrified that you were…”

“I'm not,” she said. “I take it we're the only ones to have returned?”

Hank nodded grimly. “But I'm not so sure that all is as it appears, Wanda. I was just telling Simon that my experience was marked with several small bits of implausibility that led me to conclude that…”

Simon threw his hands in the air. “Tell me what?!”

Wanda reached over to touch Hank's bicep. “I concur.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Phenomenal.”

The doors were flung open yet again. The Reaper strode in, waving his wickedly-sharp scythe before him. The War Machine walked beside him, his armor buzzing with electricity, his every footfall a monstrous crash of steel on floorboard.

“Well,” the Reaper said, leering madly at each of them in turn. “So glad to see you could make it back, little brother. Sad as you are, I was certain you'd be one of the dead. But at least I'll have the pleasure of slashing you down myself.”

Wonder Man clenched his fists and prepared to launch himself at his brother. “The hell you will, you murdering piece of – “

“Hold that thought.” Wanda placed a hand on Simon's chest. She took a step forward, her gaze intense and not at all frightened. “You,” she told the Reaper. “Who are you? Really.”

The Reaper lifted his sharp chin. “I think you know. It's taken me a long time to reach this moment, Wanda, but – “

“Enough with the corniness,” Wanda said. “Whoever you are, you're a mage – a powerful one. That certainly exempts Eric Williams, who is probably now either dead or locked away in a madhouse, drooling all over himself and watching the same terrible action movies most of your dialogue has been excerpted from.”

“Ah, Wanda,” Hank said, “although I share your suspicions, the gentleman in question does nevertheless appear to be dangerous himself…”

The Reaper laughed. “Do you think so, mutant? Really?”

“No,” Wanda said. “I did, for a while. Now I wonder.”

“Wonder?!” the Reaper shouted into her face, hammering her features with his spittle. “How many of your people must I kill and turn into my goddamned slaves before I pose a threat in your mind, woman?!”

“Try one.” And then…

…As the Beast, Wonder Man, and even the undead War Machine watched in stunned shock…

The Scarlet Witch slapped the Reaper across the face. Hard.

“Oh, my stars and garters,” Hank gasped.

The Reaper had fallen to his knees, and now rubbed the crimson place on his cheek. Wanda sneered at him. “Well?!”

“You stupid cow…” the Reaper said.

“Who are you?” Wanda spit straight into the man's eye, then began to kick him with a ferocity that took every man in the room aback. “You thought you could play a little game with us? Did you? Did you? We're the Avengers! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

There was a mechanical whirr as War Machine primed a missile that emerged from a groove at his wrist. “You need to back away from the boss!”

Wonder Man shook his head at him. “I'll tear you right in half, Rhodey. I just decapitated Captain America . If you think I have any sentimental misgivings about you, wow do you have another thing coming.”

Oblivious to all but the Reaper, Wanda demanded: “Well?!”

“Who am I?” The Reaper settled into a crouch, and wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his surviving hand. “I'll tell you who I am…”

And his scythe-hand went for her throat – but when it closed around Wanda's neck, it was not a curved blade at all…it was a demon's mouth. Attached to the head of the demon that had grown out of the Reaper's shoulder.

Hank stared. “What the hell…?”

“WANDA!” Wonder Man cried.

And the Reaper – now a bearded man in a flowing scarlet robe – lifted himself into the air, his form swathed in occult energies. A second, snapping-mouthed demon emerged from the sleeve over his opposite arm. The first still held Wanda fast in its teeth, choking the life from her as her blood oozed over its lips.

“I'm Master Pandemonium,” the man told them. “I'm the man who murdered the Avengers.”

The Beast blinked.

“I have absolutely no idea who that is,” he said.

Chapter Four: No Such Thing as a Happy Ending

Wanda Maximoff, known throughout the world as the Scarlet Witch, was dying. The teeth of the flailing demon were locked around her throat like a vice, rending the flesh on her neck with each movement of its jaw. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't activate the hex power that had been hers since birth. All she could do...was die.

Her gaze flittered down the length of the demonic manacle, to the point where scales and leather skin blistered and distorted into the pink flesh of a man. Master Pandemonium, his black hair flying around like it was caught in a windstorm, laughed maniacally, pleased beyond all belief. Wanda hated this man more than anything else in existence. Years ago, she'd been the mother of two beautiful children, the result of her marriage to the synthetic person known as the Vision. The children, however, weren't real. They had been created by the unconscious actions of her unpredictable hex powers, crafted from the missing soul of Mephisto. This man, Pandemonium, took her children away from her, and now he was going to take her life as well.

Wonder Man and the Beast, the only remaining members of the once-mighty Avengers, sprang to action, determined to free their friend from the madman's grasp. Pandemonium cocked his head in their direction, a wild smirk creeping to his lips. His free arm extended, and his large sleeves expanded to their full extent. A horde of ravenous demons spewed forth, sweeping the two male heroes away in a tide of tooth and claw. Wanda struggled as much as possible, but found her strength depleted.

“Come on, Mommy,” the demon master said as his attention returned to the woman in his grasp, “give us a kiss.”

The wave of demons collided hard with Wonder Man and the Beast, forcing the two heroes away from the Scarlet Witch through sheer force of numbers. With a cry of hurt and anger, Simon Williams exploded in ionic fury, his immense strength toppling several demons with each furious swing of his fist.

“Wondy, who is this Master Pandemonium character?” Beast asked, finally managing to break away from the army of creatures by jumping into the air. Bracing himself on the shoulders of a relatively large demon, McCoy began to pounce from one monster to another, punching the head of each one he landed upon.

“He fought the West Coast Avengers a few years ago,” Wonder Man replied as he smashed together the heads of two demons that had attempted to wrestle him to the ground, “but the last we saw of him was when Mephisto vaporized him into oblivion.”

“Well, vaporization is evidently a temporary malady,” Beast quipped, knocking out yet another demon with his own superhuman strength. Suddenly, with no warning, the demon assault ended, the remaining monsters cowering away from the two heroes for unknown reasons.

“Uh, Hank...?” Simon asked, looking over at his best friend as they moved side-by-side with one another.

The demon army parted into a path, through which strode the Legion of the Unliving. The reanimated corpses of the deceased Avengers were looking even worse than they had before, their decomposition now at a seemingly accelerated rate. This time, however, the six previous zombies were accompanied by a swelling in their ranks. Yellowjacket, the Vision, and Tigra had joined them, their own flesh already beginning to rot from the state of their dead bodies.

“Those aren't the real Avengers,” Simon stated, though Hank wondered if he was saying it merely in an attempt to convince himself of that fact. “I killed Cap just a few minutes ago. There's no way he could've come back from that, zombie or not.”

“I did much the same with Hawkeye,” Beast answered, turning his back to Simon's as the Legion surrounded the two, “and I agree with your assessment. However, true Avengers or not...”

The mangled visage of Captain America gave a skeletal grin.

“...we are in trouble, nonetheless.”

Wanda tumbled to the cavern floor in a heap, tossed aside by Pandemonium's demon grip. She coughed loudly while rubbing gloved fingers over the deep cuts on her throat, thankful that the demon had not fully closed its razor-lined jaw. She looked up at the scowling face of Master Pandemonium, unsure of what to do next.

“So now you know the truth,” the demon master stated, taking a seat on his throne of bones, “that I am responsible for this series of events.”

“Why...?” Wanda choked out, her voice raspy and ragged. “How?”

“Because of you,” Pandemonium responded, “I was taken to Hell by Mephisto. By absorbing the souls of your false children, I fulfilled the purpose Mephisto had created me for, and my reward was an eternity of torture. My salvation came most unexpectedly, I must admit. Mephisto's realm was recently the focal point of a demonic war, perpetrated by a creature named Zarathos. Hell was essentially turned inside out, and I took the opportunity to flee my imprisonment. I returned to life, Wanda Maximoff, and my only thoughts were of revenge upon the person responsible for my treatment at Mephisto's hands.”

“You took away my children!” Wanda screamed, standing to again face down the maniacal villain. “What could you possibly do that's worse than that?”

“I took away your precious Avengers,” Pandemonium answered with a grin, displaying a set of yellowed teeth below his black moustache, “and I used your own power to do it.”

The Scarlet Witch furrowed her brow in confusion, not following the demon lord's statement.

“Your twin children were created by your own mutant powers of probability,” he explained, “and by absorbing them I also absorbed the “hex” power that was contained within them. I applied your power of reality manipulation, Scarlet Witch, and I used it...to create a world. A world which followed the rules I set forth...a world in which you were unconsciously drawn into, due to your connection with my power...a world designed solely for the purpose of making you suffer for what you did to me.”

“You didn't do your research,” Wanda stated, the gravity of the situation finally setting in, “now I know why things felt so wrong over the past several weeks. Your reality was too different , Pandemonium...the Avengers have changed since you last encountered them. Eric Williams has reformed, Simon and I have split up, and the Vision...the Vision is dead.”

“You fell asleep in your reality, Witch,” Pandemonium hissed, “and awoke in mine. Everything you've seen, everyone you've encountered, was all created by me. I murdered your fellow Avengers, whom I had created, in order to strike out at you.”

“Then that means,” Wanda said softly, turning her head to look at the battle raging deeper in the caverns, “Simon and Hank...”

“They are not real, woman,” Pandemonium stated, finally standing from his throne, “they were created by your own power, as was everything else in my world. You are alone here, my lady...and you shall die alone!”

“It would appear that you're less talkative this time, Hawkeye,” Beast quipped as he flipped into the air, barely dodging a volley of arrows from the zombie Clint Barton. Hank wasn't able to afford much of a chance to look in on how Simon was doing, as Hawkeye had kept him on his toes ever since the battle had begun.

Wonder Man, while relieved that his best friend only had one zombie to deal with, couldn't help but notice how unfair the battle was. The core of the Legion of the Unliving had pounced on him en masse, obviously realizing that he was the most immediate threat of the two remaining Avengers. His body crackling with ionic energy, Simon caved in the skull of the nearly fleshless Giant-Man. When the gargantuan corpse fell to the ground, the hero realized that even though they were dead, the monsters still couldn't fight without a head.

“You think you can make me hesitate?” Simon yelled as he flew into the air, colliding with the rusted and cracked armor of Iron Man, shattering the creature like it was made of glass. “You may wear the faces of our friends, but you're not them!”

Swooping down again, Wonder Man bared down on the skeletal frame of Captain America, whose shield bounced off of the superman's indestructible body. “Not by a long shot!” Simon again yelled, scooping up the zombie Captain into his arms and up into the air. Grabbing the unliving creature by its wrists, Williams pulled with all his strength, ripping the decayed Avengers chairman in half.

Turning his head back to the ground, he sneered at the remaining members of the Unliving Legion. “The team may be dead,” he said through gritted teeth, “but the Avengers will fight on to the last man standing.”

Stirred by Simon's statement, the Beast took a look upward at his teammate, and his eyes widened in horror at what he saw. Descending from the ceiling of the cavern, unnoticed by Wonder Man, was the ethereal form of the Vision – the synthetic Avenger's normally pristine body now a broken and flayed husk of organic organs and artificial, shredded skin. The Vision lunged through the ionic Williams, the cellular disruption playing hob with the energy matrix that made up the man's body. Wonder Man screamed and then fell to the earth, landing hard on the stone tunnel floor.

“Simon!” Hank yelled, ignoring Hawkeye as he leapt toward his only remaining ally. McCoy reached Simon in one jump, providing a furious kick to the face of the nearby Black Widow, nearly taking her head off of her dead shoulders. Beast scooped Simon into his arms, determined to defend him to his last breath.

Simon stirred back to consciousness just in time to see the four lethal arrows burrow into the Beast's back, the razor sharp tip of the shafts emerging from Hank's furry chest. With a cough of blood, the Beast look down at the four arrows poking from the front of his body, and with a tearful eye smiled at Wonder Man.

“Simon...” the Beast choked out right before he fell over, “it's up...to you...now.”

Tears streaming down his face, Wonder Man stood to face the remaining deceased Avengers. Hawkeye had notched another arrow, the Wasp buzzed around their heads, the Black Panther emerged from the shadows, Tigra snarled, and the Vision hovered over them all.

“Come on, then,” he whispered, his body igniting with ionic energy. “ Come on! ”

Wanda dove for the ground, narrowly escaping the blast of hellfire that poured from Pandemonium's mouth. Coming to a stop on her belly across the dirty, ashen floor, Wanda could hear the madman laughing at her. He was toying with her now; sure that he had broken her spirit. She rolled over onto her back, just as the demon master leapt atop her, crouching over her in an almost sexual manner.

“Would you like to speak to Thomas and William before you die, witch?” Pandemonium teased, his demonic hands twisting into crude representations of her twin children's faces. Wanda fought the tears that were fighting to come out, unwilling to give the monster the satisfaction.

“I knew you would figure it out eventually,” he said, rubbing his malformed hands across the Scarlet Witch's thighs, “I couldn't completely sever the ties to your old world. I killed the Avengers in hopes of driving you mad...imagine my surprise when the simulacra of those closest to you began to remember for you. Williams, though him the brutish Beast, and the Vision...they all suspected the same as you, projecting your own doubts through the ethroplasm that I used to create them.”

“But, the Vision didn't ...” Wanda began, giving up when she knew it was pointless to even consider.

“Oh, but he did,” Pandemonium admitted, twirling his now normal fingers through her curly, brown hair, “that's why he chose the Avengers he did to take the place of the ones I had murdered. You and your paramours wondered why he chose who he did, despite my creator influence. I had him chose my War Machine, who even now guards my throne, but I could not stop him from choosing Williams and McCoy. Even though I created him, as I created all of this world's Avengers, he still found the will to defy me.”

“You didn't....you didn't create them all,” Wanda remarked, flinching at the maniac's roaming hands.

“Oh, I made a few omissions and revisions here and there,” he answered with a smirk. Bending down so that his face was directly in front of hers, so that she could smell his putrid breath, Pandemonium whispered softly. “So tell me...are you insane yet?”

“PANDEMOINIUM!”

The madman's head shot up at the declaration of his name, his face twisting into an expression of pure hatred when he saw the person to which the voice belonged. Simon Williams, his uniform in tatters, his body – once thought indestructible – bloody and ravaged, stood at the entrance of Pandemonium's throne room. The twisted and mangled body of Tigra was clutched by the neck in the grasp of his right hand, while the arm of the Vision – ripped from the android's body – was held in the grasp of his left hand.

“You should've let my Legion kill you,” Pandemonium stated as he stood from where Wanda lay, “because I warn you, death by my hands will come most slowly.”

Wanda felt a surge of hope in Wonder Man's dramatic entrance, taking the opportunity to kick her legs forward and up. The heels of her boots caught the Master in his sternum, knocking him backward a few steps. Scrambling from where she lay, Wanda made it to her feet and ran toward Simon, nearly falling at his feet when she reached him.

“Simon, listen to me,” she gasped out as he helped her to her feet, “I need you to keep him busy, to give me time. You can't beat him, Simon...I'm sorry, but you just aren't able.”

Simon looked at the Witch – at the woman he loved more than life itself – and nodded his head. “Do what you have to do, Wanda. He won't get by me until I'm dead.”

The tears flowed freely from Wanda Maximoff's eyes as Simon gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She stepped backward, and Wonder Man walked forward. “Okay, Master Panda Bear,” Simon said with fierce determination, “it's just you and me, now.”

Suddenly, the silent zombie that was once War Machine flew from a side cavern, rocketing toward his target. Wonder Man stopped his stride long enough to level one punch at the incoming armored figure...a punch so powerful that James Rhodes exploded on impact.

“That all you got left, Pandy?” Simon asked as he returned to his forward movement. Master Pandemonium smiled as the two came face to face.

“I took the form of your brother in hopes of adding a little more pain atop your usual pathos, Williams”, the Master stated, “who would've imagined you'd be the last hero standing?” Pandemonium's mouth widened, a burst of hellfire exploding from the orifice. The flame poured over Wonder Man's face, melting and scorching the flesh before he could trigger his ionic transformation. Simon threw his right fist forward, knuckles colliding with the villain's jaw with such force that it shook the caverns in which they stood. Simon sighed with regret when he saw Pandemonium had not moved from his spot, his face neither bruised nor broken.

“Fool.” The villain spat the word, and with the back of his hand he slapped Simon across the chamber. With the enlarged sleeves of his orange shirt flowing behind him, Pandemonium levitated across the expanse of the cavern to where Williams had landed. Simon attempted another punch, but found his fist caught in the grasp of his opponent's clawed demon hand.

Wonder Man screamed in agony as Pandemonium twisted and pulled, breaking and then ripping the arm of the indestructible man from its socket. “How could one created by me,” the madman asked, tossing away the appendage, “expect to win this battle?”

Simon braced himself against the cavern wall, ionic energy flowing from the place where his arm had once been. “Go to Hell,” he grunted.

Pandemonium thrust forward his hand, claws entering the eye sockets of the Avenger. “Never again,” he answered as Simon Williams died after several agonizing moments.

Floating in the air, her body shaped into the lotus position, the Scarlet Witch fought against the power of Pandemonium that made up the reality around her. Crimson energy, the combination of her hex power and the chaos magic at her disposal, pulsed and ebbed around her. Sweat beaded on her brow as she attempted to wrest control of the power – her own power – that her foe had used to trap her.

Her eyes shot open, and the world around her changed.

“What madness is this?” Master Pandemonium shouted as the cave that surrounded him melted away, revealing open nighttime sky. He looked around the grassy hilltop that he now stood upon, and found the Scarlet Witch – now standing – with wild, unpredictable power flowing from her body.

“You created this world with power you stole from me,” she stated, her voice tinged with sadness and hatred for the man that had so cruelly tormented her, “but now I am in control.”

Thunder boomed from the heavens, as the clear sky began to grow even darker with the approaching storm clouds.

“I know what your omissions consisted of,” she continued, “and I've taken the time to undo them.”

Pandemonium looked up at the sky as the rain fell, and he gasped when he saw what was heading toward him. The stone hammer, hurled from the clouds, struck him with such force that it caused the ground to splinter and crack. He fell to the grass, coughing up blood from the internal injuries caused by the hammer's strike...and that's when he heard the voice.

“For Midgard!” the booming voice of Thor, Asgardian God of Thunder, announced as he flew down from the sky, lightning sparking from the spinning hammer in his hands. “For the Avengers!”

“No, this cannot be,” Pandemonium strained out as he rose to his knees, watching as the Thunder God descended on him, “I created all of this!”

“And I created Thor,” the Scarlet Witch rebutted. “Goodbye, Pandemonium. Hell is too good for you.”

Thor landed on the hill, bringing his hammer down in a furious blow to the Master's skull, driving the villain deep into the earth. With strike after furious strike, Thor battered the soulless man, breaking bones and shattering his body. Finally, after the release of aggression was satisfied, Thor pulled the broken body of the man who attempted to be a god from the small crater that had been created.

“Fairest Wanda,” Thor said, his own voice as strained with remorse as her own, “I shalt take this offal to the realm of Hela herself, to see that he receives the fate of one who would be a murderer of our fellows.”

Wanda nodded, and with a weak smile bid Thor farewell...and the Thunder God faded away, Pandemonium with him, no longer sustained by her power. Alone again, the Scarlet Witch cried for several long minutes, knowing what it was that she had to do next.

With a gesture of her hand, the air in front of her coalesced into the form of a man. Within moments, where nothing but empty space had been, the green and yellow body of the Vision stood before her, a smile on his android face.

“Wanda...” he began, only to find a finger on his lips to silence him.

“I didn't...” Wanda began, tears halting her words. When she found the strength, she began again. “I didn't get to say goodbye to you, Vision. I know you're not really here, that I pulled you from my own mind...but, I had to tell you...”

“Tell me what, my wife?” the Vision asked, placing his hands on the woman's shoulders.

“I love you, Vision,” she said, collapsing into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. “I've loved you since the moment we first met. You're dead, and I can't bring you back...but I had to tell you one last time.”

“I do not understand your words, Wanda,” the Vision replied, returning her hug with one of his own, “except for three. I love you as well. Whatever it is I have done to you that I am not aware, know that you are what gives me meaning. Because of you...an android knows love.”

The tears streaming down her face, still embraced in the Vision's arms, Wanda found no words to express her final goodbye to the man she had married. Knowing that the world Pandemonium created was at an end, she released herself from the Vision...

...and wished herself home.

“Wanda! Wanda, wake up!”

Wanda awoke with a loud gasp, flailing her arms when she felt the hands of another upon her. After a moment of panic, she recognized her surroundings – her bedroom in Avengers Mansion . She looked to the person sitting on the side of her bed, attempting to calm her down, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her teammate and friend, Crystal.

“Wanda, you scared me to death!” Crystal said as she handed Wanda a glass of water. “You were having this nightmare, and I couldn't get you to wake up.”

“A nightmare...” Wanda muttered. “If only that were true...”

THE END

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

Some of you maybe thinking that this story seems familiar. That's because, well...if you've followed my work over the years, this large story HAS appeared elsewhere. Three years ago, I took over the writing chores on Avengers at the now-defunct Marvel Revolution site. Three issues into the first arc was all I accomplished, leaving the site for reasons I don't even remember now. But, this story was always in the back of my mind, haunting me in a sense.

And now it's finally finished. I tweaked it, of course, to fit it into M2K continuity...but, really, there wasn't that much retrofitting that needed to be done.

I want to give a special "thank you" to Mike McGee, 'cause without him to convince me to finish this...well, I probably wouldn't have. He also did a kick-ass scripting job on the third chapter, putting me to shame (as always). You're too cool for school, Mikey. If you liked this story, thank him for it...if you didn't enjoy it, well, it's all my fault then.

Chris Munn
6/11/04