The Aerie
Mt. Annapurna
Nepal:

Ra's Al Ghul stood on the windswept slope, the cold just edging through his layers of protection, watching through fog-misted binoculars the activity on the slopes of Everest miles distant. The sun had just crested the Himalayas , the air fresh and clear, clean at the top of the world. Even without the glasses he could see for miles- leagues, but he was keenly interested in the operations on the world's tallest mountain, and he wanted a closer look.

A Grav-Pulse freighter was just departing, the last of the non-essential personnel aboard, the extraneous materials that would no long be needed for the project; steel and circuitry, plastic and the excess Promethium from the core containment shell. He watched as the ship tilted wildly in the wind, fearful of a crash that might scar the mountainside, lose delicate and expensive hardware. His fears were premature however, and unnecessary. The pilot was the best of his followers in the particular skill, totally devoted and willing to die for the cause of the Demon's Head. He watched as the transport swiftly righted, soaring out and away from the jagged slopes of the Everest relay station and started the long, sweeping curve back to the Aerie's lower holding facility. Still, there had been that brief moment of tension, almost exciting-

“Master?”

“Yes, Ubu?” Ra's Al Ghul did not turn at the sound of his servant's chattering voice, his clacking teeth. They were dressed the same- more or less- yet despite his body guard's additional bulk the giant Ubu sounded as though he were freezing-

“ Lund h-has signaled, Master. H-he is ready t-to commence.”

Al Ghul nodded, sweeping his magnified gaze over the mountainside until he centered on the small specks that were his riggers. They stood in the shadow of the slopes, the Tower rising high above them, a monument to one man's ingenuity- His own. Its original purpose had been to broadcast in unison a series of hypersonic pulses that would effect various brain activities in the bulk of humanity. It had been his idea to blanket the Earth with his otherwise harmless harmonics designed to attack humanity; to shut down those centers of the mind that controlled man's ability to communicate. The ability to speak, to read would be forfeit, and the resulting chaos would quickly cull the masses; the weak and helpless, the timid. Mankind would be reverted to trait, once more ranking low on the food chain by sheer stupidity and their inability to cope in a world that they could not understand. They would slay one another, inadvertently at first, then on purpose, finally as a matter of gene. Man was an animal, and the least desirable in the visions of Ra's Al Ghul. The plan had been sound, and would have worked, especially with the Justice League suddenly missing. It was a plan worth saving of course, just in case- there was always a margin of error.

Things had changed…

The Demon's Head watched as Lund led his team away from the Tower proper. The Babel Tower had been converted- quickly- for a new and singular purpose, based on recent events. It was a simple matter really, using data gathered and transferred from an operative working within the more secure areas of STAR Labs. STAR had done the groundwork, and in end had provided a majority of the raw data on the current anomaly. Ra's Al Ghul tilted his head back, his gaze falling on the roiling storm building from a pinprick in the clear blue-sky overhead.

He watched the pink, churning clouds pouring from the tear in the very fabric of space. He saw the darkening patch of sky, a slash of blood on pristine blue. The crackling, arching lightning that flashed magnificently, thunder rolling after. He had been fortunate indeed that a rift had appeared so near, that point where the ground met the sky there above the Himilayas; a stone's throw from his home. It had been a simple matter thus to erect one of his Towers atop the spine of the world, converted to draw the strange negative energies into his grasp, for his use. It was so similar to the Crisis effect of several years past, yet at the same time different. In most cases, the world at large, the bulk of humanity was not even aware as yet that anything was amiss.

They would be however, and soon…

“Master?”

Ra's al Ghul sighed, “Commence, Ubu.”

Ra's Al Ghul returned his view to the Tower, most specifically the control rod situated at the very pinnacle. There was a moment's hush, then he saw the gouts of steam as the internal mechanisms of the machine began to churn. There was a sparkle of dazzling light as the Tower's crystalline prism began to refract the varied negative energies passing through; collating data, coalescing and converting power. The deadly, dark pink energy began to swirl-

Al Ghul winced as a flare of light exploded within his gaze. He staggered back, his binoculars falling into the knee-deep snow as thick-gloved hands went to his eyes knuckling at the spots flashing there. He felt Ubu's hands on his shoulders, his bulk keeping him upright-

“Master!”

The Demon's Head blinked, hissing, “What- what was that? Get Lund- “

“He is calling now! He wants-“

Blindly Al Ghul ripped the headset from his servant's head, his eyes watering, tears freezing in the sub-zero winds as he jammed the earpiece to his ear, shouting into the microphone-

“Lund !” he snapped, still blinking, his sight a white, swirling blur. “ Lund ! Report!”

He heard static. Turning away he wiped at the tears in his eyes, trying to see. There was a flashing, swirling pink high above and he could hear the thunder churning, echoing off of the high mountains.

“…surge! Nega… off the scale!”

Lund 's voice sounded frantic, panicked. Al Ghul winced again as a thread of lightning etched itself upon his inner eye. He cursed, something he rarely did, hating not knowing as he adjusted the gain on the radio, trying to clear the feed of static-

“…man. Fell through the hole!”

“What?” Ra's Al Ghul shouted into the microphone. “Repeat that! What man?”

“He fell from the hole, smoldering. Landed almost in our midst, unconscious. He seems injured, dead-“

“WHAT MAN?”

“The silver man…”

VS

Chapter Six:

The Cosmic Bond!

Written by Curt Fernlund and Chris Munn
Story by Chris Munn and Curt Fernlund

The Edge of Infinity…

Eric Arcane stared at the… the rip in the very fabric of space, the tear in the air. Except there was no air, or ground for that matter. No skies of blue or fields of green, just the endless cold black of the void.

And the Wall…

He had heard rumors of course. In his line of work- if you could call it that- there were always stories of the Realms Beyond; alternate dimensions and worlds within worlds. Hell, he had been to Dream on occasion, stood face to face with Nightmare once. Of course he had heard of Dormammu, and to hear Frank Drake tell the story, the Dark Dimension was a cold, miserable place.

It had nothin' on the Wall though…

It just stretched on, impossibly, forever in every direction. The last great barricade at the end of infinite space, huge could not begin to describe it; gigantic, gargantuan, and vast. Nothing compared, there were not words. Still he stared, his gaze sweeping, his neck craning as he looked up and down, left and right trying to take it all in. It boggled the mind.

Eric Arcane winced, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose trying to ease the pain of his suddenly throbbing head. His mind was swirling, trying to comprehend, his brain threatening to explode with the overload of input that his senses- both natural and magical could not process. It was too much-

“Impressive, is it not?”

Arcane looked to his left, trying to focus on the dark and ghostly image at his side. Doctor Strange smiled that cool practiced smile he had and drew on the filter of his cigarette. He was dressed in black, a dark woolen longcoat hiding his apparel of office, his black hair slicked back with the silver at his temples sparkling in the eerie gloom. His face was all arrogance and omniscience, his well-trimmed mustache shifting only slightly as his condescending smile became an all-knowing smirk, as though he had seen it all before. Just another day at the ranch for the one-time Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts.

Doctor Eric Arcane was no slouch when it came to sorcery and mysticism of course, but he was no where near the same league as Stephen Strange. Arcane was a Hedge Wizard, all of his spells learned and remembered as needed, kept in his throbbing head and scattered memory as intelligence allowed. His learning had been the quick and easy route, the best course of action at the time, not the long and laborious process that the likes of Strange and even the Baron Mordru had taken to learn their craft. There was no discipline, no honor, just instant gratification that of course took its toll in the long run. Every spell took a bite out of Arcane's essence, his soul. Every Conjuring or Feeling, every Flame and Lightning Bolt tugged at his lifeline, snipped just a little more from his thread. Now, the simple spell of Projection- even with the aide of Doctor Strange- well, Arcane was feeling his age.

His hands appeared withered and pale, though the ghostliness was an affect of the Astral Projection. His own long overcoat seemed ratty and worn, old blood stains glowing as his spirit struggled to hold form, drawing power wherever it could. He could see the tails of his dreadlocks, snow white and frizzed. He was tired, and needed to get back-

“You all right? Holding up?” Strange asked, but did not really seem concerned as he returned his gaze to the hole in space.

“I'll live,” Arcane answered, “but we need to get back soon I think. I-“

“Just a few moments longer, Eric,” Strange said. “Humor me.”

“I don't even know why I'm here,” Arcane said, his voice starting to rasp. He needed a cigarette of his own, but he could not conjure one here for some reason. “No way I have the kind of power to deal with that-“

Arcane pointed at the rip even as a gout of pink energy spewed out like a geyser. Dark clouds churned forth amidst crackling bolts of lightning that stretched far and away into the void. Oddly, he heard the ‘thunder' that followed, some side effect of the Astral spell no doubt. He felt the pain, it was all in his head.

As overwhelming as the Wall was, Arcane imagined that Strange had brought him to look at the hole rather. That was the true anomaly, the apparent danger waiting to happen. He could see the results of the queer energy that had been pouring out for no little time it seemed. The void near the Wall was spotless of the usual debris and dust that clouded space, and even the edifice itself seemed charred and cracked in areas. The pink storms had scoured the Wall, scorching the surface. He could see blank white spots and cartoon like craters where spacecraft had been imbedded but were now missing. The odd metal gleamed in places, reflecting the crackling energies, while in other spots was black like soot and crumbling, breaking away…

“It's eating away at the Wall, isn't it?”

Strange turned, that smile back in place as his dark eyes sparkled. He nodded, reaching into the folds of his coat and producing another cigarette, which he lit with a touch and handed to Arcane-

“Very good, grasshopper,” he smirked. “You see, we are not so far apart as you care to think. I believe recent failures- alleged failures on your part have clouded your judgement and self-esteem. Once you put your mind to it, however-“

“What is it?” Arcane asked, impatience lacing his voice, sighing as he took a long drag off the imaginary smoke. The pain in his head seemed to ease a bit as he pointed at the hole. “The energy I mean. It's coming from the other side, right? But what is it? I can't get a fix, though I can see some traces of magic in the mix. It seems old.”

“Older than space itself, at least as we understand it in our limited way. Perhaps older than time as well. That is the primal magic you see, the last lingering spark of one small part of what came before, that uncontained maelstrom from which all else sprang; Chaos…

“The Wall you see is that first and final barrier that holds back the powers of creation and calamity. Beyond resides all that was and will be again, one day. The Wall too replicates itself, ever twisting and winding throughout the multiverse, recreating itself in every dimension that sprang from the one as Chaos is unique and central-“

“Hold it,” Arcane said as he clenched his eyelids tightly, wincing as he rubbed at his temples. “Too much data, old son.” He heard Strange chuckle-

“It's simple really,” he said flicking ash into the void, watching the sparkling, cosmic light show. “Science actually has the right of it, with their ‘Big Bang' theories, they simply do not understand the full scope and magnitude. Our one universe is just a drop in the cosmic sea, a grain of sand on the beach of infinity. And beyond that Wall, and the myriad duplicates in countless other realms lies the one true unique quality that all share. The ‘Cosmic Bond' so to speak-“

“Chaos…” Arcane said finally understanding. “Chaos is breaking through.”

Strange nodded. “Recent events in this reality- as well as others- have weakened the Wall. Your own inclusion, the battle with Dracula trying to pierce the veil and return his beloved, the recent activities of the Dark Dimensions and stages of Hell trying to break through, and more. Like circumstances elsewhere have done equal, if not greater damage; to the Wall as well as space and time itself. These rips in the fabric of space are appearing everywhere with a dramatic frequency, the Negative energies of Chaos eating away at the very being of Infinity, bringing the other realms closer with every heartbeat-“

“Merging?”

“No, Eric,” Strange said shaking his head. “Should the dimensions breach, the opposite energies would clash, the resulting ‘explosion'- for lack of a better term- ripping asunder reality as we perceive it. It would be the end of everything, Eric. The pink storm of anti-energy is the first sign as the negative wave spills forth like a tide, rising then receding. Eventually it will swell to a flood when the barrier cracks and the Walls come tumbling down. Already there have been near misses, crossings of beings that do not belong. Your own Frank Drake nearly caused the calamity during his jaunt through his Dark Dimension of the Obsidian Mirrors. The Silver Surfer too-“

“And others, Strange…”

Arcane actually saw Doctor Strange flinch, his head turning just a bit quicker than normal. His own heart was hammering in his ethereal chest as he turned to follow Strange's gaze to see the other man who had joined them without a sound, snuck right up on them-

“Mysterium…”

He was tall, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that cast his face in shadows for the most part, a long trench coat of his own trimmed in gold and dotted with archaic symbols and runes. He had those glowing eyes of awareness and that same look that Strange usually wore, like he knew a helluva lot more than he was letting on-

“Doctor Strange,” he said, his voice cold and hollow. “We meet at last.”

“Under dire circumstance of course. Such is usually the way.”

“It's our lot in life, Doctor…”

Arcane gasped as a woman stepped from behind the man, though he would have sworn that this ‘Mysterium' had been alone. She was pretty, though she looked weary and worn, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Her long, blonde hair seemed faded, her skin pale and her frame thin bordering on gaunt though she was dressed in a bulky wool overcoat, the apparel of fashion for the edge of reality apparently.

“Our kind draws calamity and death like a magnet, both for ourselves as well as the ones we love.”

Strange frowned, nodding. “I heard of your recent loss, Miss Jones. I am sorry.”

Miss Jones nodded in return and Arcane could sense the hitch in her voice as she sighed, trying to keep her composure. Who was she, and the man too for that matter? Things seemed to be spiraling out of his reach at a quick pace.

“I fear that my alternate has taken steps, Doctor, steps that shall inadvertently quicken the disaster we all fear. Oddly, it goes against my own once purpose, the calling of restoration that he has taken upon himself.”

“The Nth Man…”

“Benjamin,” the woman said like she knew him- whoever the Nth Man was.

“I don't-“ Arcane started, but the man Mysterium cut him off.

“The Squadron fought the wandering heroes when they appeared, drawn by the Scarlet Centurion's Cosmic Escalator. There was a death, and my replacement took a hand, rather directly.”

“I sensed the recent surge,” Strange said in understanding, ignoring the sudden flare of light spewing from the rip overhead. “That was the heroes?”

“Benjamin shunted them to your world through a convenient tear, passing them back through the Negative Zone ignorant of the consequences. Their passing did not go unnoticed, I fear. He is just a child after all, despite his metamorphosis-“

“Just a baby…” the Jones woman said, near tears. Arcane could not stand it-

“What the fuck are you all talking about?”

“Forget it, mate-“

“Ahh!” Arcane spun about at yet another voice and saw three new forms taking on a ghostly shape before him. They were misty however, ephemeral, all wearing long coats: a man in a hat holding what looked to be a Hypno-disc like they used to sell in the old comic books he read as a kid, another taller man in black hat and coat wearing a golden medallion, the third blond and ragged with a cigarette butt dangling from parched lips. It was he that spoke-

“I been dealin' with the ‘Trenchcoat Brigade' longer 'n I care t' recall an' they don't never give a straight answer.” The blonde man smirked, taking a drag off his cigarette as he glanced sideways at his two companions, then shifted his gaze to the Jones woman, his eyes lingering.

“Who the hell are you, now?” Arcane asked stepping forward. He seemed the only one taken aback by the sudden appearances, though he saw the blond man scowl and shake his head-

“Bloody ‘ell… ‘Ere we go…”

“Many think that they know me, Eric Arcane,” the tall man in black said. “But in truth few do. To most I am, and ever shall be-“

“Here it comes…”

“A stranger…”

The blond man hissed, shaking his head as he strode forward. He extended his hand, ready to shake with a smile as the man Mysterium shouted warning-

“Do not touch! The contact could-“

“Piss off, ya ponce,” the blond said with an annoyed sneer. “You think bein' civil's gonna bring down the house y' great git? Maybe if you'd shook a few ‘ands in yer day we wouldn't be in this bloody mess in the first place.” The blond turned back to Arcane, taking the black mage's astral hand despite his hesitation, shaking it as he leaned in to whisper-

“Y' gotta put these poofs in their places once in awhile, luv. They do tend t' get uppity, know what I mean?” Arcane nodded feeling more lost and confused with each passing moment.

“John Constantine, mate,” the blond continued, stepping aside as he chained another cigarette, then another that he handed to Arcane when he noticed that his own had vanished in the confusion. He motioned with a thumb over his shoulder-

“The tall bloke's the Phantom Stranger. Don't get him started though. Me other mate's Doc Occult. He's alright, though a bit fixated with monster bashin'.” The blond stared at Arcane, raising his eyebrows-

“I'm Eric Arcane,” Eric finally said to the growing crowd of apparent mystics. “Doctor Arcane, and that's-“

“We have no time for this!” Mysterium said, his voice booming. “While we exchange pleasantries the very fabric of reality unravels. We must unite, band together to fix this before we and all we know are wiped from existence!”

“An' jus' how d'you plan on doin' that little bit a' prestidigitation, son? Chaos came rainin' down in our reality already. The people are rememberin' the red skies, n' they're scared shitless,” Constantine said.

“Truly,” the one called Doctor Occult added. “One of our own- Doctor Fate added to the trouble. He's been defeated, but he ripped the ‘hole' bigger in the process.”

“It was Nabu, actually,” the Stranger interrupted, “one of the old Lords of Order who turned to Chaos in the end. The result however is the same.”

“The negative energies threaten to burst through the Wall, like a dam ready to crumble,” Strange added.

“We all know all of this,” Miss Jones said. She looked old and tired suddenly, her voice full of tears as she hugged herself. “What do we do about it?”

“The actual battle is out of our hands, I think,” Occult said, watching as the little disk in his hand spiraled. “The heroes will deal with the villains- as they always do. It'll be up to us to try and mend the damage to the Wall I think-“

“An' jus' how are we supposed t' do that, mate?” Constantine said, chaining a new cigarette and flicking the spent butt into the void. “The Wall's leakin' like a sieve all over creation. We'd need a shitload a' Dutch boy's t' plug this dike.”

“Be that as it may, John Constantine, we must try.” The Phantom Stranger looked at each of the assembled mystics, waiting for support, or at least response. Finally Occult nodded, and Strange gave his blessing. Mysterium frowned but agreed, the woman at his side simply shrugging and looking away with a fresh round of tears swelling in her eyes. All but her then turned to Constantine and Arcane.

The man, John Constantine eyed Arcane with a conceited smirk, raising his eyebrows again as he blew a cloud of smoke into space. He shrugged-

“Fuck it, lads,” he said. “You only live twice, right?”

“Most of us, John Constantine,” the Stranger said with a grim smile, turning finally to Eric. “And you, Doctor Arcane? Do you stand with us in what might well be our final hour?”

Arcane was petrified- scared shitless. This was way beyond anything he had ever encountered. For some reason however, Strange had brought him into the mix. He had faith in a simple Hedge Mage and Arcane wondered why for a heartbeat. Then he simply shrugged-

“What the hell,” he said, his head finally clear since he had entered the Astral Plane. He flicked his spent cigarette away, watching as it spiraled up and up, disappearing into the pink, crackling energy. He turned towards the others-

“I got nothin' left to live for anyway…”

“Welcome to the club, Arcane…” the Jones woman said, her face stony cold as she stared at him. Eric Arcane shivered wondering just what he had gotten himself into this time…

Titan-
Somewhere in the Negative Zone…

Genis-Vell stood at the grave of his father, lost in thought. He had not been back to the world of his birth in some time, too long, and he regretted that. With the recent upheaval in the ranks of the Avengers however it seemed a better time than not to take a short sabbatical and return.

The grave was undisturbed. The flame still burned. The monument was well tended as the people of Titan, those that remained that had not melded with their fellow Eternals or gone off to explore this realm, honored their saviors well. He was glad of that. Glad that someone cared, and remembered-

The feeling came over him suddenly, in a wave. His vision clouded even as his face darkened, becoming one with the cosmos. He staggered as the images pored in, his hands reaching out, settling on the tombstone for support…

There was a Wall composed of giants, gargantuan beings long dead and calcified, blinding light pouring from their wide eyes and gaping mouths. There were cracks in the Wall as it flaked away, dark, crackling energy seeping through. Energy he recognized and knew too well. One of the giants shifted, a stony faced god breaking free-

Marv?

The creatures scurried forth, consuming all in their path. They were horde, countless in number, their black skin-like armor glistening as they scrambled across the galaxy, world to world just ahead of the storm. They devoured all in their path; slaying, ravaging, and multiplying like locusts. A swarm coming ever closer. A wave, unstoppable in their sheer mass. Creatures of Chaos…

Yo, Genis…

He saw Doom, his armor rent and smoldering, the demons of Hell striving forth…

He saw a silver ship with a crystalline skull-like head riding the crest of the storm, tentacles groping beneath…

He saw a boy with an owl running scared as the world swam with pink at his heels…

Marvel!

He saw Galactus amidst the Chaos, laughing in the heart of the storm…

He saw Thanos…

Captain Marvel turned, energy flaring from the Nega-Bands on his wrists as the grim-faced mad Titan smiled down at him. Genis-Vell knew the face well, so similar to the face he had seen on the giant, yet different as well.

Behind Thanos were others that he knew. Pip, the ugly and obnoxious little Troll that was usually fodder for the mad Titan. Gammora the green-skinned assassin, debatably the most dangerous woman alive. Finally, Adam Warlock, the being created by the Hive years before to be Mankind's future, one step below God. Together, they were the Infinity Watch, each possessing the powers of one of the Infinity Gems, those stones that when combined could alter…anything. Just how they had retrieved the Gems or Thanos for that matter was a mystery, even to one with Cosmic Awareness, apparently. The last he had heard, the Mad Titan had been rotting in a cell in another dimension, the prisoner of yet another mad god.

“Greetings, boy,” Thanos said, his voice gravelly and cold as a grave. He was still smiling, condescending.

“What do you want, Thanos,” Genis snapped, ready to fight, “here of all places? I thought you respected-“

Easy Marv…

Genis heard the familiar voice in his head even as Thanos raised a warning hand, Adam Warlock stepping forward in a swirl of gold and black-

“We are not here to battle, Genis-Vell,” the gold-skinned man said, his long cloak swirling about his tall, muscular frame. The Soul Gem affixed to his brow seemed to sparkle and glow as his eyes turned dark and distant just for a moment. “Rather, we are here to warn-“

Don't trust him, Marv. He stabbed your dad in the back. He'll do the same to you to get what he wants-

“Quiet, Rick,” Captain Marvel said, the others ignoring his outburst, knowing that Genis-Vell spoke to Rick Jones- his other half trapped in the Zone but with the Eternals elsewhere on Titan. Marvel was not welcome there, with that group, but still he felt the need to visit the grave of his father on the world of his birth. It just seemed right, and he had the ability to do so undetected- at least by the Eternals, apparently.

“Jones speaks wisely, boy,” Thanos mocked. “You should listen to him when he does. It happens so rarely-“

“Call me ‘boy' again and I'll-“

Adam Warlock stepped between Thanos and Captain Marvel, his hands raised to ward or defend, attack if necessary. “We are not here to battle you, Marvel. We are here to help. A crisis stirs even now, its horrors spreading whilst we bicker. The progeny of Chaos draw ever closer and will soon be upon us. Titan I fear will be the first front of the war, though the true battle lay ‘pon the Earth.”

“I saw this ‘progeny'. Ugly critters devouring everything in their path, but if the battle's on Earth, shouldn't we be there?”

“The Avengers are at the forefront of that conflict,” Warlock interjected. “I fear their natural distrust of us would simply distract. Better we make our stand here. We may turn the tide-“

“I doubt that, Warlock,” Thanos said. “But it's out of our hands. Our war is here in the midst of Chaos, in the Negative Zone. Perhaps the Infinity Gems can turn the tide in our favor-“

“Why do I doubt that?” Gammora said, staring daggers at the dark-faced Titan.

Thanos chuckled, “A little faith, child. Have I ever let you down?”

“Hoo boy,” Pip the Troll laughed, setting flame to the tip of a good, thick Cuban. “This is gonna be a blast, I can see that.”

“More than you know, Pip,” Adam Warlock said, his gaze meeting Marvel's for just a moment before turning away towards the distant sound of rolling thunder-

“More than any of us might ever know…”

The Florida Everglades…

The creature stopped, pausing in his aimless wanderings. Huge red eyes stared uncomprehending at the strange pink energies that bubbled from the murky waters, boiling light and smoke.

He heard the screams but did not understand.

Somewhere back in the dim recesses of his mind, Ted Sallis shouted, memories of another time raging. He recalled fire and flame, the bitter stench of burning flesh and chemicals. He remembered endings.

He remembered beginnings as well…

Finally, almost shrugging, uncomprehending, the Man-Thing moved on…

War World…

The terraforming was almost complete. Soon life would sprout from the cold hard surface of the mechanical world that had been created with the sole purpose of destruction in mind. Life from death- it was only fitting.

Ganthet walked the plains, examining the soil, fingering the dirt he had created from the Flame. The Green permeated the earth, rich with life in its basest form and potential. The air was thin he noted with a deep breath, but rich with content on the cusp. All that it would take was a spark. Soon…

“It is remarkable what you've accomplished here. A new beginning, a pity it will come to an end so soon.”

Ganthet- last of the Guardians, or the first depending on your point of view- turned and stared at the other old man that stood beside him. The Highfather was looking to the sky again, as he had so often of late, his face grim with melancholy. Shazam the Wizard of course had wandered away.

“Not if I can help it,” Ganthet said tossing a handful of soil back to the dirt at his feet. “I've worked too hard to see it all fail now.” Highfather, late of New Genesis shrugged-

“We've all worked hard old friend. All for naught it seems at times. The prophecies still come true-“

“Bah!” Ganthet spat, walking on. Overhead the thin atmosphere sparked and crackled. A chill wind smelling of ammonia wafted past, ruffling his skirts. “We hold too much with the stale old prophecies, visions of long dead fanatics always spouting doom and gloom. I have faith in my warriors.”

“As do I,” Highfather agreed. “But evil stirs and the old threats rise. The Hounds of Chaos are scratching at the door. Your brave new world will be the first line of defense- here at least.”

“We shall endure, my friend. Just as we always have.”

“You have more faith than I, I fear.”

“And therein lies our main difference…

“Faith.”

Renria in the Shiar Empire…

He had found a dead and lifeless world when he arrived. There was destruction, devastation everywhere. The cities were afire; buildings collapsed and in ruin, the outlying communities devoid of life. It was as though war had instantaneously swept the planet, destroying it in the space of a solar day, a few short hours.

He had heard the cries, the call, his Cosmic Awareness almost overwhelming as though a billion souls were crying out for help at once. He had sped away, Quantum leaping through dimensions as quickly as possible, but it had still taken the better part of a day to reach Renria.

He had been too late.

Bodies littered the streets, clogged the buildings and tunnels, the fields and streams. Half devoured, ravaged and lifeless he found no one spared, not a soul to remember the glory that had been Renria on the fringes of the Shiar Empire. The stench of death and offal clogged his senses, that final act of the body to defend against predators. It had not seemed to matter.

Quasar leaned against a building, vomiting before the carnage turning his stomach. He had never seen such wonton destruction, senseless death with no apparent purpose. It sickened him.

He saw the first creature as his stomach calmed. He simply looked up and it was there, staring, considering him. It was huge and gangly, with black plated skin and long claw-like fingers, a barbed, twitching tail. It had an elongated head with a set of jaws that looked able to bite through adamantium. Its huge dark eyes stared at him quizzically, almost comically.

“Who-“ he rasped, his voice cutting short as he saw the others, all but identical. They were few at first, doubling, trebling as they scrambled into view. Soon they were dozens, then scores, a horde, a swarm clacking and scrabbling, inching closer.

Quasar swallowed, backing away, taking to the air as they surged forward in mass. Snapping and howling they leaped at him, forcing him higher and still they came, hundreds. Hundreds leaping and clawing, snapping at his heels. He had never seen the like.

HE was there, suddenly. Quasar had been distracted, but still- how could one so huge move so silently. HE stared at the creatures as they swarmed at his feet, his strange dark eyes sparkling, turning towards Quasar. He was almost smiling.

Strange…

Stranger still was that Galactus had even appeared at all. It was well known fact that Galactus had been defeated by various entities, Infinity and Lord Odin of Asgard not the least. He had been turned and delivered to the Skrulls for ‘trial', though there were few that did not know that that meant execution really. Galactus had devoured the Skrull Home World years before, and only he knew how many lesser planets in their empire over the centuries. The Skrulls had demanded retribution, and through a strange twist of fate and divine intervention, were expecting it soon. How Galactus had gained his freedom would remain a mystery however, in the light of crisis.

Quasar stared in awe as Galactus ignored the creatures swarming at his feet, scrambling up his legs. The great force of nature raised his arms, his fingers twitching ever-so slightly as machinery appeared, swirling and forming from the very molecules of the air. A strange apparatus appeared about him, a harness of sorts as an even more magnificent machine began to take shape before him. Quasar licked his lips and soared higher. He had seen this before…

Renria was dead, and Galactus was about to feed on the carcass.

Quasar had no idea what the creatures were that had overrun the planet, nor did he care really. They were scavengers and killers, and now they faced the Devourer of Worlds. Galactus would deal with them by sucking the energies of life from the planet itself. Right or wrong, in the end Renria would be avenged.

But what were those creatures? Where had they come from, and more, where were they going? Were there more?

Quasar paused at the edge of the planet's atmosphere, concentrating, looking outward with all his essence. He called on his Cosmic Awareness…

He saw nothing…

Not that he did not get an image- just that it was an image of emptiness, a void where nothing remained. Anti-Life… negative space… void…

Quasar shuddered. He needed help. This was far too big for him alone, and since Eon was his usual silent self, he was on his own. It was not a hard decision, of course.

Quasar watched as the planet started to quake, its volcanic line the first to suffer the ill-effects of Galactus. Fires spouted across the globe, the clouds darkening quickly as ash and soot filled the air carried on the wind. It would not take long before Renria was just another memory, lost but for the few that recalled, a notation in some Shiar log.

The Avenger called Quasar watched a moment longer, then called upon the power of the Starbrand engraved in his skin. He felt the surge of Quantum energy, so similar to his own as space folded at his whim. It would take time, but he would be home soon.

Back on Earth, amongst friends…

New Genesis…

Orion stared at the words emblazoned on the slick white wall. Pulsing in flame they had appeared almost a full day before, the great hand remaining motionless since though not disappearing as was normal. Occasionally it tapped, waiting…

“What do you suppose it means?” Lightray asked again for the umpteenth time. Orion sighed-

“I don't know.”

“Perhaps it's a joke,” Barda offered, shifting her stance, her hands in the pockets of her shining Dockers.

“The Source does not joke,” Orion grumbled, wishing that it did. He glanced at Scott Free, but the Master of Escapes and ruler of New Genesis simply shrugged-

“Don't look at me. I haven't a clue.”

Orion sighed again, returning his attention to the slab where the Source made contact with the children of New Genesis. Usually the great hand only appeared to give warning of dire events, some shattering, imminent catastrophe or prophecy. It spoke in riddles too, but nothing that the High Father Izaya could not decipher, or Metron at least. High Father was dead however- moved on, and Metron had not been seen in days. It was up to Orion, get of Darkseid and ruler of Apokolips to interpret and guide.

He sighed again…

“Prepare the ranks for war,” he said turning to the others; Lightray, Mister Miracle and Big Barda, Fastback and the Bug. They stared in anticipation, Barda turning her shock rod in her hands with a slim smile, Lightray frowning at the news-

“You're certain?”

“No,” Orion said, glancing at the Source Wall once again hoping that it had changed. “No, but better prepared than not. Go! Spread the word.”

They filtered out, one by one, his friends- such as he had. Lightray was the last, turning back-

“It can't be your father. He's done. Dead-“

“Is he? Prophecy says otherwise. Whatever, New Genesis will meet this threat with passion and pride. New Genesis will not fall…”

Lightray shrugged. “I hope not…” and he was gone…

Orion turned back to the Source again. The finger twitched but wrote no more, seemingly pointing at the last words inscribed…

FOR YOU…

What in the name of the Fire Pits did that mean?

Manhattan …

Peter Parker woke, his head pounding, buzzing…

His Spider-Sense was going wild! Danger was imminent! But what- where?

He leaped out of his bed, springing to the ceiling and concentrating, trying to focus. The buzz was devastating, overwhelming. Something huge was coming, but what?

Peter

Head pounding he winced, gritting his teeth as he turned towards the bed . It was empty of course, but he had thought… He had heard…

“Arrgh! ”

Peter Parker dropped to the floor of his apartment, fell to his knees in agony as his head threatened to explode. There had been a faint buzzing from his Spider Sense for days now, ever since the storms and the rats that had swarmed through the streets. He had never really learned what had happened that day, but he had felt the unease ever since, and now …

Now he was apparently going crazy. He would have sworn that he had heard her, Mary Jane calling to him. She was dead though. He knew that. Dead and gone for some time …

And he was going insane with the loss and the constant nagging in the back of his brain, like a toothache causing just enough pain to distract and occasionally overwhelm. There was no dentist to help him though.

Richards had his own worries and problems and was apparently dealing with some Avengers situation at the old Baxter Building site. Parker had gone to see Strange, but his manservant , Wong, had simply said that ‘the doctor is unavailable'. That could mean anything from meditation to off in some dark dimension battling some butt ugly thing that no one else even knew existed. And it was the same all over. There was nowhere to turn. There was no one to help.

But of course, that's the way it usually went in the life of ‘your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man'.

Parker sighed as the buzzing and pounding slowly began to recede again. He knew that it would not last long, but hopefully it would be long enough this time. Long enough for him to find out what was happening.

He got up off of the floor, slowly, standing on shaking legs and taking a long look at the empty bed before finally pulling on his costume. He had to get out. He had to get away, and there was only one real way for him to do that, he knew.

Within moments a thin strand of webbing shot through the open window of Parker's apartment, followed by a familiar form. A lithe figure clad in red and blue swung up and away, swiftly disappearing into the stone canyons of Manhattan …

Manhattan …

Raven gasped, feeling the shift of emotion. People were dying by the thousands somewhere, by the hundreds of thousands. She could hear their screams of agony in her mind. She could feel the death and devastation. She could sense the hopelessness…

It was not Trigon…

“Wallace…”

“Raven?”

Raven turned, blinking to see Koriand'r standing before her, a look of concern and compassion on her face, twisting her brow with worry. “What's wrong?” Starfire asked, stepping closer, sitting too close. Raven licked her lips-

“I- I don't…” She took a breath, long and deep, exhaling slowly. “I sensed Wallace- Flash- in pain, confused, reaching out-“

“But why, after all this time?” Starfire crossed her arms over her breasts, shivering as she looked to the ceiling, seeing beyond? “He's with the League now. He's left us behind, again. Why would he contact you?”

“I don't know,” Raven said, her gaze following Koriand'r's, staring at the tiled ceiling. There was nothing there. “I don't know…”

Kori placed her arm about Raven's shoulders, the other woman tensing even after all the years. She was still tentative, aloof. She had to be.

“Wallace…”

A chill wind blew through Titan's Tower…

San Francisco

“Look, no offense, but Cap isn't my boss. Hawkeye is my chairman, so what did he say?”

“And Cap isn't my boss, either, but both Hawkeye and T'Challa agreed with him. They were pretty clear in their instructions.”

Priscilla Lyons, Vagabond, furrowed her brow at the statement made by Everett K. Ross, the liaison between the Avengers and the United States Government. Dust swirled around them as they watched the sun slowly fall down to the horizon, and it was in the basking red light that Ross finally recognized the destruction the two were standing amidst. The area had been burned to the ground; buildings had been reduced to ashen tombs which still held the bodies of the dead and the inured that had yet to be rescued. “Wow,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the cuff of his white button-down, “somebody sure had a hot time in the old town, huh?”

“It gets worse the farther we go into the city,” Vagabond answered, crouching down to touch her gloved fingers against a melted doll that had once belonged to a child, “all because of a maniac named Equinox. Look, I know why Cap told us to stay here, because these people do need our help. But, that doesn't mean he shouldn't call every available Avenger to New York if this crisis is as big as people think. We're members of this team same as him, doesn't matter that we're not the big guns.”

Ross squinted his eyes after removing his sunglasses, watching as a young woman was pulled from the wreckage by Darkhawk, one of the western Avengers he'd yet to meet. “Hawkeye told me you'd argue this,” he said, “which is why I'm here. If you don't continue with the disaster relief, I'll toss your toned little ass in the nearest federal prison I can find. Same goes for all of you.”

“No prison could hold me for very long,” a voice said from directly behind the diminutive liaison, causing him to yelp and jump in surprise. Ross turned sheepishly to see the vigilante named Moon Knight, his white cloak hanging loosely around his body. “I am no Avenger,” Marc Spector continued, “and you would do well to remember that.”

“Then what's keeping you here, jackass?” Everett asked, an accusatory finger jabbing at the Knight's chest.

The Moon Knight's eyes shifted very slightly to glance at Vagabond, who was waving at a group of approaching heroes in the sky. “I have my reasons.”

Frustrated at Spector's obtuseness, Ross turned his head in time to catch sight of the Quinjet landing a few yards away. After the plane had powered down, a small group of fellow Avengers disembarked, their costumes blackened and torn after their hours of relief aid in the ruined city. The Two-Gun Kid was the first to depart, his scowling face hid beneath the shadows of his wide-rimmed Stetson. The Atlantean woman, Andromeda, and the Inhuman, Karnak , followed a few steps behind him, their own faces stern reflections of the devastation they had witnessed.

“Another fire broke out a few miles yonder,” Two-Gun informed as he accepted a hug from Priscilla, “so we had a helluva mess to clean up.”

“This,” Andromeda said as she made her way to Ross' side, “rivals the destruction I saw during the fall of Atlantis many years ago. The madness of evil men knows no bounds.”

Suddenly, a violent force gripped the assembled heroes, the mental assault causing even the most powerful among them to fall to their knees in agony. A voice screamed in the minds of the Avengers, but the words were too loud and too strong to be understood. The attack lasted several long minutes before stopping as suddenly as it had began. Slowly, Vagabond reached for her communicard, trying to regain her balance as she opened the hailing frequency. “Did everybody else get hit by that?” she asked, hoping for at least one of their absent members to respond.

“Jack of Hearts here,” the voice of Jack Hart answered across the frequency, “and yeah, we got hit by it, too. Sunfire got nailed by it, but I weathered through alright. You guys okay?”

“That was a psionic attack,” Karnak said as he braced himself on one knee next to the disoriented Vagabond, “tell him to find Moondragon.”

A mile or so away, the Jack of Hearts received his order and gave an affirmative, the recovering Shiro Yashida sitting on the ground next to him. “You cool to fly, Sunfire?”

“A warrior of the empire shall never be found wanting, Jack Hart,” Sunfire replied as the nuclear fire that composed his body flared brightly. The two men propelled themselves into the air, the Avengers identity card in Jack's hand homing in on the specific frequency that each card owned by a team member emitted. After a few moments of flight, the two reached their destination and landed.

“I don't see her,” Sunfire said impatiently as Jack walked away from him, the card still gripped in his hand.

“Oh man,” Hart whispered as he walked over the hill. Heather Douglas, the telepathic priestess better known as Moondragon, was on the ground, curled into the fetal position, arms wrapped around her legs to control her shaking. Jack scrambled down the hill until he reached his teammate, placing his hands on her shoulders to let her know he was there. “Moondragon, what happened? Did you cause that psi-attack?”

“If I did,” Douglas answered, her face streaked with tears, “I humbly apologize. Please do not tell a soul that you have seen me in such a state...my pride could not endure it.”

“Forget about it, babe,” Jack said as he helped the shaking woman to her feet, “but what happened to you?”

“I felt him,” she whispered, “when he tore through the dimensional walls. He's in New York, where our teammates are, and I don't think they can stop him.”

Jack swallowed hard. “Who?”

“Annihilus...”

To be continued…

Next Issue: The battle resumes as the JLAvengers take on Annihilus as you've never seen him before. And just what does Doctor Midas have to say about all this. Be back soon at JLU: 2001 for the next chapter…

Story © Curt F and Chris Munn
Plot © Chris Munn and Curt F
Editing © Curt F and Chris Munn