The Aerie
Mt. Annapurna
Nepal:

It was cold…

Not the simple cold of winter or that bitter chill that the first winds of autumn bring, but the devastating, deathly cold that only the purest lands truly experience. The air outside was crisp and clear, a stiff breeze washing over the mountains and swirling the newfallen snow into great, misty clouds. The sun was dazzling, huge and bright in the clear blue sky doing little to warm the icy wastes of the Himalayas, rather sparkling golden rays over the frozen sheets of crystalline white.

In the relative warmth of his Aerie, the Demon's Head did not care. True, like all of his citadels scattered about the world he had chosen this one secreted deep within the wastes of the rocky Himalayas for not only its solitude but also its stark and barren beauty. Another day he might stand there, outside and hip deep, naked in the freezing snow to marvel at the great beauty that still could be found- even now- in the ravaged world. Another day he might have watched the bloated sun crest the great mountains and sigh in awe at the majesty of Mother Earth as she was reborn. Another day perhaps, but this day however, he was preoccupied.

Ra's Al Ghul barely moved as he stared at the computer screen, his right hand twitching only slightly as he quietly scanned the procured files scrolling across his monitor screen, his left stroking the hybrid African Lynx just behind its tufted ears as it curled up beside his chair. The great cat purred at his touch, growling only slightly as he paused to consider something on the screen in greater depth. Like so many of the animals at the Aerie and his other citadels scattered throughout the world, the particular African Lynx at his side was the last of its line, the last of its breed. When this one was… gone, there would be no other. That pained him more than anything, really.

So much of the world's natural beauty was lost due to the ravages of mankind; its flora and fauna pressed into extinction by the six billion human carrion that devoured all in their path. Even the land itself was failing; the very atmosphere spent more every second. The blight left in the wake of humanity was devastating, the blasted, broken lands taking decades to recover. It was debatable if the air and waters ever would, but it was definite that the animal kingdom would suffer the most so long as mankind stormed their way across the face of the Earth. Like the Do Do and the Ring-tailed Cat, the African Lynx would fade away barely remembered by a select few, those poor fools that pretended to care- and himself…

“Shhh…” he cooed, ruffling the cat's fur as he focused on the screen before him, the Lynx stretching and snapping as he shifted position slightly, leaning closer. He saw discrepancies in the Martian's physiology and wondered if the Detective had noted the anomalies. Scrolling down the page of course he found the appropriate notations concerning the fluidity of the alien's molecular structure. The Detective was thorough of course. He had done his work well, as had Talia.

The Daughter of the Demon had braved Olympus, stealing into the very stronghold of the self-proclaimed defenders of the Earth, the Gods viewing the world from on high from their own unattainable citadel on the surface of the moon. She had stolen their secrets, their most dark wants and needs and desires. Like Prometheus she had brought fire down from the mountain, a fire that would ultimately burn them to the core.

The Detective himself, one of their trusted own had been gathering information against his pantheon, his allies. ‘Just in case', Ghul imagined, a contingency plan that had come to sprout its foul seed after the intrusion of the alien Agamemno. That particular alien had transferred the identities of the hero's worst foes into their superior forms and reciprocated, placing the hero's collective beings into the bodies of the villains. The result of course had been pandemonium, and humanity ever quick to turn believed that their icons had turned evil. It had not lasted long, and in the end the heroes had triumphed of course, but the seed had been sown- not only in mankind, but in the Dark Knight as well.

As a result, the Detective had gathered information on all of his allies and comrades, not only in the Justice League, but those others as well. In his arrogance he had created failsafe files that mapped out in detail the most expedient way to eliminate all of his peers.

All…

Those files now- thanks to his daughter- belonged in full to Ra's Al Ghul!

He would use them of course. A diversion at least while he implemented his latest scheme to pare the Human Race to a more manageable size, a lesser percentage of mass that he might guide and lead to a better world. If a few of the Meta Gods died along the way, all the better. Most were beneath his contempt, fools and idiots with delusions of grandeur, aliens and freaks distorted by their own foul sciences gone awry. Those select few who were worthy of his notice- like the Detective- would either concede his brilliance or be eliminated with the rest. Simple enough…

Ra's Al Ghul stood, his hand brushing the sensitive keys before him, transferring the accumulated data of his enemies throughout his own computers the better to implement his plans. It took seconds for the Detective's files to be analyzed and absorbed and all about the world within instants his subordinates set about the task of creating the Batman's fail-safes. Within the space of days, perhaps hours he would be ready-

“Are you pleased, Father?”

Ra's Al Ghul turned and saw his daughter standing just a few feet away. There in the shadowy corners, her dark hair loose and flowing she seemed almost an angel, a specter awaiting his final breath. The Demon's Head smiled-

“Of course, daughter,” he said, striding forward to take her hand in his own. “You have done well, as always. We are free to proceed.”

“Then you will implement ‘Babel',” she asked, glancing at the monitors that displayed the many regions of the Earth that her father desired to watch. She saw the gleaming constructs, towers erected of metal and plastic scattered about the Earth that would be the downfall of Humanity with the implementation of her father's latest scheme.

“Of course,” Ra's Al Ghul smiled, following his daughter's gaze. “Mankind must pay for the damage they have done to the world. They must be culled, pared to a manageable population, which I might direct lest they destroy us all.”

Talia sighed, staring at the imagery of Manhattan displayed, the teeming crowds going about their daily, day-to-day lives without a clue that their world was soon to change. She had never agreed with her father on all things, nor agreed totally on his means to achieve the ends he so desired. She did share his goals; a better world where all lived in harmony, but to wantonly slaughter so many in the process to achieve that end.

Too, there was more. When she had infiltrated the Watchtower she had been surprised to find members of the All-Star Squadron there rather than the Justice League itself. She had listened of course as she had gone about her task, surprised that those older heroes gathered were waiting- somewhat impatiently, worriedly for the return of the League from the future. What they were doing there she had no clue, but the fact remained- they were gone. Forever perhaps? When Fate had changed, attacked his fellows; Sentinel, Flash and Max Mercury he had stated as much. ‘A disruption in the Time Stream' he had said, ‘an anomaly in the Speed Force'. Ra's Al Ghul would want to know that. Use it-

“Father,” she began, licking her lips, not quite sure just what she had to say or how to say it. “I-“

Light!

Brilliant, glaring light erupted throughout the chamber. A blinding glow that made her eyes water even as she turned away, a silver radiance that seemed to sooth even as it burned it was so pure. Talia staggered, gritting her teeth as she raised her hand to shield her eyes, staring up at the source of the brilliance. She saw her father doing the same, and more…

He seemed perfect, one of the blessed with his bronzed, silvery skin rippling with an unearthly light. He was standing in midair above the floor, his bare feet not sullied by the dirt of the land, his great wings barely fluttering, holding him aloft. He wore armor, slight but effective, a helm and breastplate gleaming. He held a sword of flame licking at the air as his eyes scanned the chamber, considering almost, finally falling on the Demon's Head-

Ra's Al Ghul… The Lord has promised that there shall be no other tests until the final days, he said, his voice low and melodic. The promise is the Rainbow, yet you seek to thwart the Plan and Order. Why?

“And who are you to question me?” Ra's said rising from his chair to confront the intruder. “I have seen you about,” he gestured at his monitor array, “and I know you arrived from space some time ago landing in Siberia in a star ship of sorts. You faced the Justice League and their Russian counterparts Red Square, but again- who are you?”

I am but a simple messenger, Herald and Harbinger. I am Zauriel of the Eagle Host and again I ask you- why?

Ra's Al Ghul stared at the winged being hovering before him, his eyes finally adjusting to the sudden brilliance. “Your Lord has abandoned his children,” the Demon's Head said, stepping forward defiantly, his daughter at his side, clutching at his arm. “His great plan is a failure, his order lost to Chaos. His favored run amok. Change is needed.”

Who art thou who knows the Will and the Way?

“Just a man,” Ra's said bowing slightly, “But a man with vision. A man that might bring your Lord's true plan to fruition given the means. Your Lord- if he is the Lord of Man has suffered his children before, long ago. Sodom and Gomorra, the great Flood, the Crusades, how many more acts of man can be attributed to your master's whim? I seek only to aid, to further the dream-“

For your own ends…

Ra's Al Ghul smiled slightly, “The sheep will need a shepherd. Those that remain will need guidance. Who better than I? Perhaps I am simply a part of your master's plan, in the end.”

It was the winged man's turn to smile, and when Talia saw the coldness there she could not help but shiver, clutching at her father's arm.

“Father-“

Ra's Al Ghul ignored his daughter, pulling from her grip as he stepped to his computers. “I have already set into motion the means to cull the masses. As soon as I distract those who have set themselves above Humanity so they might not interfere with my plan-“

“They are gone, Father,” Talia said, her voice a whisper and hoping that the Angel- if that was what he truly was, as he appeared to be- would not hear. He turned however too at the sound of her voice.

“What?” Ra's Al Ghul asked, obviously surprised, and Talia suddenly wished that she had held her piece. “Daughter, what do you mean- gone?”

Talia nodded, “Truly, while I was on the moon I saw members of the Justice Society; Sentinel, the original Flash and Max Mercury, Doctor Fate. They spoke that the League was on some mission in time, in the far future.”

“Why did you not tell me this before, daughter?” Al Ghul asked, his face stone, his dark gray eyes smoldering. She knew that his mind was spinning, contemplating how this news might benefit him best.

“I was about to-“ Talia started then glanced at the being Zauriel. He was still hovering there above them, listening his silver eyes sparkling in wonderment. “When I passed the Hall of Justice again I found those JSA members defeated, on the ground and unconscious at least. All save Fate, and he was changed.”

“How so?” her Father asked and Talia thought a moment, remembering-

“He seemed almost another,” she began, “His very body was tall and gaunt, dark-skinned and damaged, his costume and raiment were gone. All save the medallion and the Helm, and that seemed dented and charred-”

Nabu… the being said with almost reverence. His gaze seemed to drift. I had not realized…

“What do you know of this, Herald? Tell me! Ra's Al Ghul would know!” The Demon's Head strode boldly forward, right up to the ‘angel' without pause or care. Zauriel looked at him, but Talia thought that the alleged ‘Messenger of God' was not really seeing her father at all.

Look to the stars, mortal , he finally said, his body glowing brighter as he slowly drifted skyward. Talia had to raise her arms again, splaying her hands to shield her eyes from the glare.

Seek Redemption if you would truly follow the WORD! Ignore thy petty ambitions and save thyself! Your judgement will soon be at hand…

And he was gone…

Ra's Al Ghul stared at the spot where the emissary had been, watching the tiny spots of silvery lights that danced and winked out in his wake one by one. When he finally turned Talia shrank back and away to see the tiniest spark of madness blazing in her father's eyes. He had the look of the damned, that look that came over him whenever he first emerged from the Lazarus Pit.

“Put ‘Babel' on standby daughter, but tell Kant to continue his work,” Ra's Al Ghul said as he locked his hands behind his back and strode towards the door. “In fact, redirect resources to aid Kant's efforts in Development. Regardless of Babel's status, his work in establishing counter-measures can be employed in any number of ways.”

“And what of you, Father?” Talia asked, watching as he father strode from the room. She knew his many moods well enough after all these years to know when he was in deep contemplation.

“I have much to consider, daughter. I shall be in my retreat, not to be disturbed.”

Talia said nothing more as the great doors to her father's private council chamber slammed shut behind him with a metallic echo that was a long time fading away. She wondered at the words of the supposed ‘angel', and just how much of his cryptic words her father truly believed. She wondered too just where the Justice League might be, when they might return.

And of course she worried for her beloved…

VS

Prelude Two:

Assembled!

Written by Curt Fernlund
Story by Chris Munn and Curt Fernlund

Space
The End of Forever,
Near the Edge of Reality:

Once he was the most feared being in the known universe- almost…

There was a time when the intelligent races knew what his sudden appearance meant, what it did portend. They might cower and hide to see him, to hear that he drew near. They would try to escape their fate, dread and despair their only companions. Some might even try to fight- futilely- for a time. Once upon a time there were few that might stand against him, a handful that might dare. Once…

But that was then, a time long past.

Sleek and swift the Silver Surfer soared along the endless expanse there at the very limits of the cosmos, the so-called End of Forever. It was calm there, peaceful, a place in the vastness of space that few came, a place where any that might brave the journey might think and consider, undisturbed. The great construct deterred most that dared venture so far into the endless depths and those that did brave the rigors of the cold and heartless void often left swiftly, humbled and disgraced by the sheer magnitude of that final barrier there at the end of all. Occasionally there would be someone of course. Space is not so infinite after all, but they were few and usually fleeting, defeated by something far greater than they could possibly comprehend or defy.

The great Wall was simply that; a massive, infinite edifice stretching far and wide into the known realms. It was a construct obviously composed of the calcified remnants of a bygone age, the detriment and refuse of what had gone before. Built by someone, but so enormous as to defy description, stretching seemingly forever it was almost beyond comprehension. Who might have built it, and why, the Silver Surfer had no idea. The star-spanning Celestials perhaps, to keep something out- or in, he corrected himself. It was all point of perspective. No matter the rhyme or reason however, it was there and would thus always give him pause to wonder.

So he soared along its length again, his shadow flitting across the rough and crude surface worn by time and erosion on a cosmic scale, a fleeting flicker of darkness barely a speck beside the enormity. He came here often for the solitude simply to contemplate as was his way. The journey was not long for one who sailed the solar winds, one who spanned the spaceways and could bypass that flickering harbinger of Time. Lesser men shunned the Wall, and those that dared did not tarry or linger, many all too often dying in the attempt, the journey simply to reach their final destination. There were fewer still that dared to stay when that goal was at last reached, such was its imposing, overwhelming presence. Fewer yet, a mere handful were there that might dare strive to breach the Wall, but it seemed that there were always signs that someone had tried since his previous visit. There, the remnants of a starship that had strayed too close, and there the charred markings of some weapon that had failed to pierce the barrier like so many before. How many had tried he wondered in the eons since-

“Norrin Radd…”

The Silver Surfer turned drawing his gleaming board about to pause, his concentration broken to hear the voice- more so to hear the voice speak his true name there in the void of space. He had not heard the intruder's approach, and that in itself seemed miraculous for one who could perceive the rage and fire within the core of a star or the sifting of sand on a deserted asteroid, the soft breath of the cosmic winds. The Silver Surfer turned, his shining form glistening in the majesty of far off stellar light, the crackling fires of escaping energy dancing across the Wall, his gaze fixed on the approaching form, a most unexpected visitation and visitor even here.

“Thor…”

Earth's Norse God of Thunder nodded slightly as he spiraled closer, his hammer spinning wildly at his direction, slowing his approach until the Thunderer was floating near. The Surfer noted that he seemed somewhat different since their last encounter. His armor had changed slightly of course, but his very being seemed changed as well. He wore a beard now barely hiding a scar, and he seemed somewhat pallid, almost gaunt though still a being of imposing might and glory, though perhaps just a bit overwhelmed. It was as though the weight of the world now rested on his broad shoulders, and the Surfer would know why. The Silver Surfer stepped back, offering his shining board as a place for his old ally to rest and recover from his long travels.

“I am… surprised to find you here, Odinson. So far from the Earth, what brings you hence?” The Surfer saw the Thunder God sag just a bit, shrugging, almost unnoticeably. He sighed-

“I have had my fill of mortal affairs of late, Surfer. Mine best efforts were for naught it seemed, unappreciated by those I do favor most. Too, the halls of fabled Asgard were not to my liking. I sought the solitude most often found here so far from all else where I might consider my future in peace.”

Norrin Radd nodded in understanding, “Then I shall not distract you, as I too have come so far, though my own contemplation is not quite so involved as your own it would seem-“

“Nay, wayfarer,” Thor said, his hand falling on the Surfer's shoulder. “I had thought that I did require solitude absolute but upon espying thee here I do now realize that the Son of Odin would share thy company, if not thy wisdom. The Norns themselves must have led me hence to find thee waiting. It is fate indeed.”

“How so, Odinson? What wisdom might I humbly impart to one such as you?”

The Mighty Thor turned his gaze sweeping along the unending Wall, his expression soft and filled with wonder for a time. Finally though he turned to regard his old comrade, his friend. They had battled before, side-by-side and against one another and Thor knew that the shining Silver Surfer was both a vaunted warrior as well as a staunch and true being. He had seen much as the Herald of the Great Devourer of Worlds, and perhaps even more since he chose to break from his old master, Galactus!

“Decisions I have recently made have found me wanting. For a time I did lead the Mighty Avengers, but mine abilities at such caused much turmoil and left the team in whole bitter and resentful. Too, mine own personal affairs, my duty to the Golden Realm have I neglected and ‘pon my recent return I did find my brethren seemingly guarded against me, almost jealous ‘twould seem.” Thor sighed again, his gaze shifting to the far away stars. “I know not the reason for the Asgardian's hauteur. I know not what I might have done- or not. My question to thee; thou were't once Herald to mighty Galactus! Thou were't once shunned above all, yet you continued unwavering ‘pon your course, thy task never forgotten nor faltering. How did you cope, Surfer? What fire spurred you on to ignore the slings and arrows of thy fellows?”

The Surfer stared at the Son of Odin, his gaze fixed and penetrating, though confused. It was strange, almost as though the Thunderer was addled. The answer was obvious-

“I had no ‘fellows'. I had no peers. In all the galaxies there was only one Herald of Galactus, one Silver Surfer. One Norrin Radd, and as the Surfer shunned his past and emotion to soar the stars and learn the final truth, so too did Norrin Radd shun his past- his love and life to save the world of his birth. That Zenn-La might survive, Norrin Radd sold his soul and the Silver Surfer knew no emotion, and no regret. At least until he met the tender vision of a delicate blind woman on Earth…”

“Aye,” the Thunder God nodded in understanding. “Earth and its inhabitants have captured mine own heart as well in a way that my fellow Asgardians might never understand. I have loved a mortal woman, and I have allies there that I would trust with my very being, and have. In truth it was this reason that I chose to lead that mighty assemblage. Rather than see the hallowed name of the Avengers fade into obscurity I sought to lead a new team to greater glories. I failed…”

Norrin Radd smiled slightly, returning his own attention to the Wall. There seemed to be a growing unease about him, a building sense of energies emanating from the construct. A natural enough occurrence, he had sensed the like before, and yet…

“We all fail, Thunderer. It is in those failings that we grow. The death of billions upon billions rests upon my shoulders, yet that burden pales beside the mistakes I have since made. With each failure however comes insight. With age and experience comes wisdom. Of course in the end none of it will matter.

“Take this Wall, for instance. Whoever created it, built it, has been lost to the annals of time. They are forgotten, a mystery to all who live here and now. Is it some divine act of Creation? The last act of a mad god or the simple device of beings so far advanced as to make our greatest seem infantile?” The Surfer shrugged. “Even mighty Galactus does not know. My former master came here often though as he sensed that particular spark, the sustenance to end his craving beyond, mayhap forever. Galactus is perhaps the greatest being of our lives, the eldest being originating from that time before our own, yet his best efforts paled as he sought to breach the Wall time and again. Whatever spark he sensed remains unmolested beyond. I sense Chaos there, seeping through the slim cracks, that primordial essence that dominated just before the birth of this reality. I have encountered it before-“

“And your point?” Thor asked gruffly, his voice impatient.

“Life goes on, Thunderer,” the Surfer said, his eyes focusing on a small point on the Wall. “Despite our best efforts, all we do now will be forgotten one day. Earth will fall, swallowed by a cold and bloated sun. Our friends will die. There will be other heroes to take our place, others who will ask our same questions. Hopefully we may strive to make their answers more easily found. Hopefully they will learn from our mistakes. We are all but a small piece in a gigantic puzzle, a part of the overall plan.”

“Thy words ring of truth, Norrin Radd,” Thor said turning his gaze to the Wall again, that point that so fascinated the Surfer. There seemed to be a dazzling display, energy coursing, flaring skyward as though something beyond were about to erupt and break through, though that of course was impossible. “My Father, Lord Odin spoke often of this barrier beyond the stars. It was his belief as well that the very spark that first created life exists beyond that great edifice, its very power forever growing until that time when it might burst free once more wiping away the old in order to create a new and glorious existence on the ashes of what had gone before. ‘All we do in life prepares the way' my Father has oft said, and when Ragnarok one day claims us all, others will stride forth and continue the struggle. Let us hope that day is yet far away-”

There was a sound, a cracking noise as the shattering of eggshell, the snapping of a dried twig that caused both Surfer and Thunderer to turn to the great Wall. Light came streaming from some small point, a spot barely visible as they were yet so far away, a blinding light exploding forth that made Thor wince and squint, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Zounds! What deviltry is this-“

Norrin Radd stared into the radiance, his mouth slacking, open and agape as he saw the bubbling wellspring of Creation itself spewing forth from a crack in the Wall. It was slight, but he could see it growing as dark energy flowed forth burning, blasting out into space, the force of the primordial energy wiping away whatever lay in its path. It was light, blatant and pure, yet also an absence of light, a radiance of alternate energy. It was the glow of lack of substance, a negative, anti-matter without form and mass, a devastating flood of something that was not.

It was Chaos unleashed…

That he should be here, now, to witness this! To be here at the very rebirth of all reality- for what else could it be that might breach the Wall that had stymied so many? The Thunder God was correct. It was fate-

“Surfer!” Thor shouted over the rising wail of energy released and unbound. The floodtide of negative energy, the wave of Chaos unbridled was spreading quickly with a building, deafening roar, nothing to stay its path. “We must stop this! Join me! Together our combined powers might stem this flow of decimation.”

Thor was right in that there was decimation. Wherever the energy spread and touched, that that was vanished, wiped away as though it never had been. There were no words to describe that lack of ‘being' that remained in the wake of the devastation. It was a null, an empty place quickly filled by whatever sprang forth, that crackling anti-energy swelling to fill the vacancy. It was awesome-

“Surfer!”

He had to learn more. Here was the answer to all. He had to know!

“Norrin Radd!”

The Silver Surfer shot forward, his Power Cosmic boiling within as he called upon his energies, engulfing himself in all that Galactus had bestowed so long ago. He heard and ignored the screaming curses of Thor as he left the Thunderer tumbling behind, spiraling away from his board before the wash of spreading annihilation. Mighty was Thor, a God perhaps in truth if not in name, but he was not the greatest Herald of the Devourer! Thor was the Son of Odin, but he was not the master of the Power Cosmic. The smallest spark of Galactus' flame and fire yet burned in the Silver Surfer's breast as was decreed. A punishment once upon a time, now and forever both bane and boon. Now he would know…

Now he would learn the ultimate truth…

“Noooo!”

Thor watched as the Silver Surfer vanished into the growing maelstrom. The raging storm swallowed his glistening form, a point of light dwindling into the inferno spewing from the crack in the Wall. There was no explosion, no fanfare to mark the warrior's passing but a simple sparkle of light flaring in the growing shadow. The Surfer would find his answers it appeared, if not in this life then the next.

The God of Thunder hefted M'Jolnir, gripping the strap and started to swirl the mighty hammer. The Silver Surfer would not be lost without a fight, and the Son of Odin, the Lord of Lightning would not allow one so esteemed to simply vanish. With the Uru Hammer burning, blazing with unbridled might Thor drew closer, the power of the gods at his beck and call as he espied the crack, the widening breach in the Wall at the End of Forever.

He saw the shadows then as he drew near. They scurried from the hole, flitting, fleeting forms that skitted about the ancient surface. Dark and slick they were, scurrying about, monstrosities birthed of the edifice so old, or perhaps from the Chaos beyond. They were born of the Wall, that barren life that would mold the greatest warrior to survive its deserted wastes. Their numbers were small but formidable in their own stature, Predators created to protect the Wall, and more-

Thor stared as another came through the breach, huge and foreboding, grappling with the Predators. He was armored, his body cast in a gray fur so dark and deep as to appear almost black. He was a brute, huge with a wild mane glistening in the abhorrent glare of Chaos unbound. He screamed, beams of energy firing from his thick fingers as he struggled to pull his great, muscular form from the crack. Energy crackled and spat about his eyes as he surveyed the void before him seeking aid perhaps, sanctuary from the dark creatures trying to drag him down. He screamed again to see the Thunder God there, drawing near, even as the jet-black monsters of the wall drew blood- and that was enough.

Blastaar disappeared in a tide of ebon bodies and slashing limbs. Even from so far away he could hear the denizen of the Negative Zone's cries of agony as the Predators rent his flesh. Thor spurred forward, but he knew that he was too late as the creatures calmed. The Thunderer paled, realizing soon enough. Blastaar was dead and the creatures were devouring their kill…

Manhattan:

Saunders glanced up, his meditation broken. There was something wrong in the realities, an angry wave of energy sweeping through the realms. He sensed the devastation, the annihilation springing forth. It was not magic, but it whispered of the arcane, the slightest essence caught up, carried along in the tide.

Doctor Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, the Sorcerer Supreme stood and strode to the glowing, pulsating orb that hovered in midair just a few feet away. His whispered something as he approached, words long forgotten by mortal man and the radiant sphere sparkled, misty clouds of eldritch energy coruscating within. He stared in disbelief, his skin growing cold as he realized what was happening, what had been unleashed.

He swore to gods long dead and forgotten…

Milwaukee:

Richard Ryder ripped the helmet from his head, screaming as the sudden noise and static became unbearable.

He wore the armor of a Centurion, a warrior and protector of Andromeda, one of the fabled Nova Corp. His was the power of the human rocket, great strength and speed, near invulnerability. He could fly, but all of that was as nothing as his mind flooded with the horrific cries of the masses, the screaming of people he had never met but had sworn to protect when he had accepted his mantle.

Something was sweeping out across the universe. He could hear them dying in his head by the millions, billions! There was nothing that he could do.

Richard Ryder, Nova hovered over the great devastation that had once been the city of Milwaukee, the huge, gaping pit where millions had once lived and thrived and he shivered. A cold, creeping hopelessness washed over him and he paled, hopeless…

London:

John Constantine looked up, his hands shaking, the flame of his lighter wavering in the breeze. He trembled as a wave of hopelessness washed over him, something devastating that his meager magicks could not begin to combat.

He bit at his cheek, trying to stop from shivering, to hold the tip of his Silk Cut steady in the flame. He breathed deeply, exhaling finally a swirling cloud of wispy blue smoke that dispersed on the wind. He cupped his hands over the cigarette's tip against the surging breeze.

It was starting to rain…

Coast City:

The silent man clad in black and shadow glanced up at the new star that suddenly blazed, growing in brilliance there in the black of night. He sighed, tipping back his fedora as his eyes became distant and soft, the darkness edging away as tears welled, running down his face.

“So soon…” he said, his gaze locked on the radiance above.

The ghosts cried out about him, millions screaming for revenge.

Souls spiraled upward, free at last.

There was a spark of green flame but he ignored it. Someone called his name, but the word fell on deaf ears. He knew no one here. He was after all…

A stranger…

Los Angeles:

Hawkeye sighed as he drew back the string of his bow, pulling it tight, taut against his cheek. His arm was steady as he aimed, the point of the arrow unwavering as he held his target in his sights. He smiled, laughing-

“Give it up, Creel!” he shouted over the blare of sirens, fire trucks and police cars converging on the scene. Smoke roiled up caught on the warm breeze and blowing away towards the ocean, caught in the backdraft of the Santa Ana winds. The fires raged, the Absorbing Man's rampage having destroyed cars and buildings as the West Coast Avengers fought to stop him. The man was brick, a walking façade of the building's rubble, his ball and chain hanging limply at his side.

“How many times do we have ta put you away, Crusher?” Hawkeye smirked drawing a bead on his foe. “When are you gonna learn?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” the Absorbing Man raged pulling his weapon in close. Hawkeye noted that his target was tensing, his muscles bulging as he let the ball and chain spin ever so slightly, twirling in his grip. He was getting ready to attack. Hawkeye the Archer licked his lips, focusing on his target.

“Carol?”

“I got him…”

Warbird hovered over Creel, standing in midair seemingly, the sash of her belt fluttering in the wind, her long blonde hair wild. She was unafraid, the likes of the Absorbing Man far down on her private list of potential threats. She could have taken him alone, but glancing about the scene of carnage that Creel had created in trying simply to rob an armored car she saw her allies in the West Coast Avengers ready to help. The Beast, Hank McCoy formerly of the X-Men sat perched and ready to spring at Hawkeye's command. Iron Man hovered in the background and she could hear the power building in his armor, his Repulsor Rays brimming with energy. Crusher Creel, the Absorbing Man was surrounded, and at his slightest move would be beaten down by the heroes without hesitation. He had destroyed stores and cars, created a mess in the street without a care on Rodeo Drive in the simple hope of scoring a store of cash and jewels to stoke his coffers. He would never learn.

“We all got him, Hawk,” the hollow voice of Iron Man echoed over the scene. Creel glanced up and saw the Golden Avenger aiming his metallic gauntlets at him, saw the building power within the gloves. He looked away, sweat on his brow and saw the Beast ready to spring.

“We've done this before, Creel. Why not simply surrender? The Clippers are playing the Knicks tonight, and if you give up I guarantee you'll be in Central Booking in time to see the Tip-off.”

“Fuck you too, ya Mutie freak!”

Crusher Creel crouched, his hand probing the ground at his feet for something that he might absorb. Something stronger than brick. Hawkeye shook his head slightly, and with a sigh he fired.

The arrow struck Creel full in the shoulder and the Absorbing Man screamed. It was not the pain, but the process as the Absorbing Man's powers kicked in. He had been about to absorb steel, his fingers brushing at the wreckage at his feet, but the arrow had pierced his skin as he had started to concentrate, the brick fading to flesh as he drew in the properties of the arrow-

First titanium designed to pierce stone, then fiberglass…

Crusher Creel looked up in shock and horror as he heard Warbird's raging scream of triumph. He saw the fist driving at him, but it was too late. His Norn-born powers were surging as his body took on the aspects of Hawkeye's pseudo-wooden shaft. His skin morphed, shaping and shading as the mass of brick faded away only to be replaced by some form of prevaricated wood. It almost felt like plastic, just for a moment as Warbird's fist smashed down into him too fast to avoid or change. He screamed as his body splintered, exploding with the force of her blow. He heard the hum of Repulsor Rays as Iron Man scattered his remains, his consciousness fading towards oblivion…

“Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” the Beast said as he dropped to the charred and broken asphalt. Water spewed from a shattered hydrant not so far away and Tiffany's roof collapsed as a fire raged through the buildings behind him. He drug his long fingers through the shattered wood, kindling that had been a man just a few heartbeats before. “Not a fate I'd wish on my worst enemy, I dare say.”

“He'll reform,” Hawkeye said as he plucked his arrow out of the ground. He ran his thumb over the blunted tip, frowning. “He always does-“

“Unfortunately,” Iron Man said as he floated down to earth. His boot jets churned with the effort, one of Creel's blows having upset his internal gyros. “Creel's one of those foes that we'll never get rid of,” he said, a panel opening on his gauntlet as he tapped out commands on a tiny keyboard starting a diagnostics on his system. His propulsion was off just a bit, and his Repulsors were only running at eighty-three percent. The Absorbing Man had done some damage, apparently. Nothing serious, and nothing that could not be fixed.

“Well, I think we did good work,” Carol Danvers said as she stepped through Creel's splintered remains, kicking at the debris as her high-heels broke more of the tiny fragments beneath her feet. “Despite the damage,” she said, hands on her hips as she surveyed the damage along the streets. The local fire department was moving in now to contain the blaze and the police were in the process of moving the crowd back. “It could have been a lot worse.”

“Indubitably,” the Beast agreed as he slipped his glasses onto his nose to better examine a shard of wood up close. “Luckily mister Creel decided to leave his better half at home. I suppose it is inevitable that Titania will eventually come to call however.”

“We can take her,” Danvers said with a conceited smile, brushing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Hell, right now I feel like we could take anybody. I didn't even work up a sweat with-“

“Wish not for greater foes, warrior, and celebrate in thy victories no matter the ease lest thy wishes be granted!”

As one the Avengers moved into action at the sound of the booming voice coming from on high. They ignored the sudden gusts of swirling, driving wind, the pounding rain and darkening sky. They ignored the peal of thunder booming in they background as Iron Man and Warbird both took to the sky arching up and around to encompass the new attacker. Hawkeye drew an arrow from his quiver, charging right into open ground to draw fire as he swept his gaze skyward, his shaft easing back on taut string. Hank McCoy, the blue-furred Beast leapt aside, his form ricocheting across the rubble caused by their recent battle with the Absorbing Man until he finally came to a defensive rest atop a stalled city bus, ready to spring to the attack or leap away as needed.

They all scanned the sky, their eyes locking finally on the target, the source of the voice and it was Hawkeye that at last ordered them to stand down. He sighed slightly relieved, finally recognizing the booming, basso voice, the speech and words sinking in and making sense. There were few men he knew that spoke like that, with such an overblown confidence and authority, though of those the mighty Thor was perhaps the last he expected to see.

He came down from on high, his arms outstretched, his magic hammer spinning rapidly overhead to slow his descent. His huge crimson cape was fluttering out behind him, flowing in the backdraft and Hawkeye could not help but notice that it appeared ripped and tattered, charred in spots. The Thunder God's armor was battered as well, and this was the heavy-duty armor he had taken to wearing from time to time with the reinforced leggings and armbands, the thicker chestplate. One of the wings had been snapped off of his tarnished, dented helmet.

“Jeez, Goldilocks,” Clint Barton joked as he lowered his bow. He left his arrow notched however, noting the raging storm behind the Thunderer, the swirling, diminishing hole of purplish energy. The Asgardian had been dimension hopping apparently, and Hawkeye knew that the Avenger usually saved the spectacular entrances for the bad guys. “Give a little warning, would'ja? You about got your godly butt skewered from four sides.”

“Hawkeye's right, Thor,” Iron Man said, his own hollow voice booming over the roar of thunder that had yet to diminish. Seeing that things were in hand the Asgardian Avenger would usually have turned down the fireworks by now. Something was definitely wrong. “You know the protocol. Hell, you helped write it! What's going on?”

The West Coast Avengers gathered about the Thunder God as he landed in the midst of the carnage that was Rodeo Drive. Warbird noted that the huge Avenger seemed even grimmer than usual of late, his eyes dark and his brow knitted with worry. Iron Man too saw that there was something troubling his friend. Of them all- of all the Avengers- he had known the Mighty Thor the longest, along with Henry Pym and Janet Van Dyne, and of course the Incredible Hulk. Tony Stark however felt that he and Thor were friends at the very least as throughout the years they had shared far too many adventures together to be considered anything but. They had guessed each other's secret identities years ago, long before the rest of the Avengers had divulged them willingly. They had saved one another time and again. They had shared much, and now at a glance, despite the pyrotechnics of the grand entrance the Invincible Iron Man could see that something worried the Thunder God. Almost scared him…

“Forgive mine abrupt entrance, Avengers,” Thor said as he knelt to one knee, tapping the haft of his war hammer to the ground to still the raging storm that followed in his wake. Almost immediately the wind and driving rain slowed, the dark clouds started to disperse, the hole in mid-air closing with a wink. Thor stood, shrugging his shoulders to shed the water from his cloak. “In mine haste I did not think, did not e'en consider that you might be preoccupied. I fear recent events far and abroad have clouded my best judgement.”

“No harm, Thunderer,” the Beast said glancing at the queer sparkling effect left behind in the sky where Thor had stepped back into real space. Henry McCoy was a scientist at heart, a biologist really, but still he had that inherent need to always learn more. Since he first learned of his mutant powers and joined the Uncanny X-Men years ago he had seen the effects of teleportation in many of its miraculous versions. From his initial encounter with the Vanisher, to his ally Night Crawler years after, and even Thor himself he had wondered at the physics of it all. He understood the principals based on Einstein's early theories of course, but all that had been thrown out the window the first time that the Fantastic Four had journeyed to Andromeda and the very heart of the Skrull Empire. Since then matters had been complicated by the appearance of the Kree and later the pilfered expertise of the Shiar and their interstellar Warp Gates and Jump Drive. Add into the mix the technicalities of time travelers like Kang and Immortus, Doom and even Bishop and the scientific applications became mind-boggling. Even more so with Thor whose powers were derived from magic rather than science. It was confusing, but in all his experience the Beast had never quite seen the after effect that he now witnessed:

There seemed to be a blank area where the Thunder God had appeared. A negative, null zone bereft of light and color that he could not quite focus on. It pulsed oddly, and he could only denote it in his peripheral vision, but it seemed to be there none the less. What was it, McCoy wondered, but his question went unanswered as a member of SHIELD ran forward, two men in Guardsmen armor just behind and equipped with some type of vacuum-like devices strapped to their backs-

“Avengers!” the agent shouted as he ran forward, his eyes lighting on each before settling on Hawkeye, known leader of the West Coast branch of the Avengers. “Agent Hunt; SHIELD! I hate to interrupt,” he said as he looked about the scene with worry, “but we must start clean-up procedure. The fire department needs total access to the area, and we do need to ‘contain' what's left of the Absorbing Man before he reforms any further.” The agent of SHIELD pointed to the ground and they all saw that the splintered wood that constituted Crusher Creel's form was already inching along the broken asphalt, larger pieces forming from the smaller remains. Carol Danvers frowned and stepped back-

“Eewww, gross!” she said, stepping aside as a piece of slimy, liquefied wood slithered over the toe of her boot.

“I agree, Avengers,” Thor said nodding to Agent Hunt and all saw the SHIELD agent sigh in obvious relief. “What I must needs say should be for thine ears alone. We should make haste to thine West Coast Compound and in truth let the call ring forth once more, as I feel that powerful as thee might be, e'en thy combined might will pale beside the evil that now confronts the very fabric of the universe.

“Avengers Assemble!”

The West Coast Avengers watched as the God of Thunder spun his hammer overhead and swiftly shot skyward. They looked from one to another then; Hawkeye the Archer, the world's greatest marksman, Warbird imbued with the former powers of the Kree warrior Captain Marvel, the bouncing, bubbly Beast, former X-Man and Mutant, and Anthony Stark, billionaire and the armored Avenger known as the Invincible Iron Man! Together they were the core of the West Coast branch of the Mighty Avengers. There were others of course, but at the moment they were the heart and soul, and together they all knew that they would follow the Thunder God to the ends of the Universe if need be, to the very Gates of Hell itself!

Of course they hoped it would not come to that…

The African Nation of Wakanda:

Klaw whimpered as he stared at the stub of his arm. His Sonic Horn lay just a few feet away, severed from his being and mangled, a twisted wad of metal, useless. He felt no real pain of course, there was no blood, but the psychic trauma of watching as his arm was cut from his body had sent him into a fit of panic and hysteria. Worse, the damn savages were not through…

T'Challa, son of T'Chaka, Chieftain of all Wakanda and the Avenger known as the Black panther stood over the self-proclaimed Master of Sound. His face was grim, his countenance a stony mask as he stood over his foe, his regal robes fluttering in the warm breeze. The monarch of Wakanda hefted the battle-axe in his hand, considering, the golden Vibranium blade glittering in the dying sunlight. A light rain was falling and the steamy jungle was all but silent as though anticipating the horror to come.

“You can't do this!” Klaw cried out, screaming and squirming in the grip of the African warriors. He had come to Wakanda once more hoping to steal the mythic metal Vibranium from the savages as he had in the past. He had heard that the panther was away and had thought that he would have an easy time against the blacks, but his information had been wrong. They had been prepared, actually waiting for him. They had beaten him easily, the Black Panther not even sullying his hands as he directed his minions with their Sonic Dampeners and their Null Weapons to cancel out sound. One of them had sliced away his horn, another, a mere slip of a girl smashing his weapon into pulp while the warriors wrestled him to the ground, holding him, binding him with cord woven from strands of the Wakandan mystery metal. Klaw had struggled of course, fought as best he could but they were too many, too strong. Then the Panther had strode forward finally, his Vibranium axe in hand-

“The time has come to end this, Ulysses Klaw,” T'Challa said without emotion. “Time and again you invade my sovereign realm, ignoring my laws, flaunting your own nationality with immunity. Never again, as I have had enough.”

T'Challa raised his axe high, his dark eyes smoldering with hate as Klaw whined and screamed. The Black Panther almost smirked as he stared down at his oldest foe, “Burn in hell, murderer-“

“My Chieftain!”

T'Challa, Son of T'Chaka paused as his most trusted aide ran forward. Taku was a childhood friend, one of those that had learned abroad, returning later to the land of his birth to help further Wakanda and help bring the nation into the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries. T'Challa trusted Taku with his life and thus paused in his rightful duty, glancing back at his friend-

“Forgive me, Milord, but I have received an A-1 Priority Alert on the special frequency of the Avengers. You have stated that you should be informed of this at any time, no matter the circumstance.”

T'Challa stared at his old friend curiously, “Really…” The last such call had gone forth when Korvac threatened the very fabric of reality. To implement that distress alert, “Who sent the call?”

“Thor, Milord…”

T'Challa lowered his axe, rolling the haft in his grip. Thor had quit the Avengers the last he had heard. What might spark the God of Thunder then to gather the assemblage?

“Respond affirmative, Taku,” T'Challa said as he stared down at Klaw. The villain seemed at sudden ease, thinking he had earned a reprieve. "I shall answer the call accordingly after I have concluded my duty here.” Taku nodded as T'Challa raised the axe once more and Ulysses Klaw started to whimper and squirm once more-

“No!” he screamed, trying to break away but the Wakandan warriors held him fast. “No! You can't-“

“Shut up…” T'Challa said as he brought the axe down silencing the Master of Sound with one swift blow…

Hopefully forever…

San Francisco, California:

Janet Van Dyne frowned to hear the all too familiar beeping noise of her Avengers ID card. She sniffed, glancing about as she held up the flimsy negligee before her body admiring the lace and detail, the way the sheer fabric accentuated the color of her eyes and the way that the silky weave laid smoothly over her bosom. It was Dior, the latest from Paris imported by Victoria's Secret and quite risqué. It left little to the imagination, accentuating her more obvious attributes in the process.

Hank would love it…

Her frown turning into a scowl, the Wondrous Wasp tossed the flimsy nightgown back over the clothes rack and reached into her purse. She heard a whimpering, whining noise as her hand drifted into the dark confines and with a quick grin her fingers brushed against the tiny, shrunken form of her ex-husband. She glanced down and saw Henry Pym writhing, bound hand and foot by dental floss, gagged and struggling as her fingernail scratched at his four-inch frame, arousing his helpless form. It was a little game they played, one they both loved, a fetish that Hank had developed over the years and one that excited her no end. Janet let her huge finger drift between his bound legs, scratching just a bit before her fingers closed on her Identity Card and withdrew leaving her tiny, helpless husband screaming for release. She giggled, folding the flap of her bag closed, muffling his cries.

“Sorry, lover,” she said as her thumb keyed up the distress signal, her eyes focusing on the abrupt message that was displayed at her touch. An A-1 Priority Alert! She wondered what could make Thor panic to the point of calling that and knew immediately that her vacation was over.

They needed her again, and like they said, ‘Once an Avenger'…

London:

Dane Whitman dug through his bureau trying to find the source of the annoying, beeping sound. He knew exactly what it was though he could not believe that the Mighty Avengers would stoop so low as to call him again. He found it hard to believe that they were so desperate as to call on the Black Knight!

He found the ID Card finally, buried in a drawer back behind his stockings. It was blinking and beeping, the image of Thor's symbol flashing as the one who had sent the call. It was A-1 Priority he saw at a glance- something threatening the very fabric of reality. Kang proportions no doubt, or Ultron…

Whitman passed his thumb over the card to silence the alert and tossed the card back into his drawer. The audacity they had after the Kree/Shiar War. He still remembered the aftermath of that, their grandiose opinions and the way they had all- almost- chastised him for what he did. He had only done what had been necessary, but they as a whole, holier than thou had not seen that. He had slain to save the universe, but all that they saw was that he had slain.

Hypocrites all…

They were Avengers in name only.

It would be a cold day in hell before he answered their call again…

Wundagore:

Pietro Maximoff stared at the blinking card in his hand, wondering just how the humans could be so callous and uncaring. Granted it was Thor, and the Thunderer had never been one to consider the feelings of his mortal comrades beyond the task at hand, but still…

Quicksilver had indeed rejoined the fabled ranks of the Avengers, but he had also requested time away with his wife and child amongst the Inhumans in far-off Attilan. He had thought that he had made that perfectly clear. Too, his sister had taken a leave of absence from the ranks after the recent fiasco as well as the death of her one-time husband the android Vision. Did they have no heart, no soul?

“Pietro?”

Quicksilver spun about at the sound of his Mutant sister's voice. Like he, she was possessed of great power, hers perhaps potentially far greater than his own super speed with the ability to alter reality at a whim. In truth the Scarlet Witch was one of the most powerful beings on the planet except that her powers were fragilely sporadic and untrustworthy. There were times when Wanda's powers had deserted her all together, and other times when she seemed almost unstoppable. Thus was the legacy of their father he supposed, the two of them the progeny of debatably the most powerful Mutant on the face of the Earth; Magneto!

“What is that sound, my brother?”

Pietro Maximoff-Magnus glanced at his sister, his thumb sliding over the slim plastic card in his hand. He depressed the cancel button, hoping that his speed had not failed him-

“It's the Avengers, isn't it?” Wanda asked as she stepped lightly forward running a towel through her long auburn hair. She had another towel wrapped about her body, her skin glistening with water after her hot, steaming bath.

“It is nothing-“ Pietro said, but despite his great speed the Scarlet Witch was able to snatch the card from his grip. He frowned as her eyes focused on the emergency beacon and he knew just how she would respond. It had been easy for him to cast aside his old life, but his sister's was too tightly intertwined with the ways of the Avengers; the Vision and Wonder Man, Hawkeye and Captain America. She would want to help, to answer the call. She looked up at him with a worried look and Quicksilver sighed, nodding-

“Respond then, sister,” he said, flopping into an over-stuffed chair in disgust. “If you don't I know I'll never hear the end of it.”

Brooklyn, New York:

Steve Rogers depressed the thin stud on the plastic card without hesitation. He had severed all ties with the Avengers of late, but he had yet to cut them entirely from his life it seemed.

They had saved him after all.

He still remembered that day, awakening in their submarine after he had been plucked from the frigid Atlantic wrapped in ice. He had been trapped, suspended in time after his final confrontation with the Baron Zemo- at least up until then. Bucky had died, but he had survived the explosion of the experimental Drone Plane, his unique physiology keeping him alive and young throughout the years following World War Two. The Avengers had saved him from his icy imprisonment, dragging him kicking and fighting from the ice, allowing him to join their hallowed ranks with little question. He had joined them likewise.

What else did he have to do?

The Mighty Avengers had been a major part of his life since his rebirth and he had been at their side, at their forefront for what seemed now like decades. He had led them time and again, through their best and worst. Lately however there had been some doubt, some question…

He had left the team, following the tragedy in Wakanda that had ended with another Avenger dead. T'Challa had recently asked him to rejoin, and he had accepted, but things were strange in the Captain's personal life. The family he had formed was now gone, and Steve Rogers had been left with nothing.

Nothing…

Nothing but the Avengers. It was high time that he returned. Forget the past, he had to look to the future once more and as they had been in the past the Avengers were there. As always…

If they needed him again, he would respond as he had in the past…

As he always would…

Avengers Assemble!

To be Continued…

Next Issue: Things start to heat up as the Mighty Avengers assemble to deal with a universe-threatening disturbance. But just what does Ra's Al Ghul have to do with the Avengers, and what might Annihilus be up to with his scurrying little Predators? For the answers head on over to JLU 2001 and read the next chapter of the greatest cross-over of all time-

JLA vs. the Avengers continues in one short week over at JLU 2001! Be there or be square…

Story © Curt F

Plot © Chris Munn and Curt F