It is a sad thing when a city dies. Just ask the people of New Orleans. Even the most intimately familiar landmark is rendered alien and disconcerting. San Francisco would recover. But such recovery was a distant thing, unthinkable amongst the debris of Equinox’s rampage.

Over six thousand people had been rendered homeless. Over three hundred had died either during the destruction itself or due to the aftershocks. Muggers, looters, rapists, criminals of every stripe and caliber had descended upon the city in numbers that didn’t even include the homegrown variety who had squirmed out of the woodwork once the flames went out and the ice melted. Harder to kill than cockroaches.

Harder to trap, too.

Marc Spector, Moon Knight, was finding that out. After the Avengers West had lent him a hand in dealing with Equinox and the aptly named Grotesk, the Fist of Khonshu had remained in the city to help with the efforts to restore law and order.

The Avengers were not to be seen of course.

Clean-up was not part of their mission statement apparently. Yet another reason he was glad to no longer be associated with them. The feeling was probably mutual come to that. Moon Knight smiled beneath his mask. It died as swiftly as it had come.

Of course, there were times having back-up came in handy. He had no resources here, not really. Only his own two hands and what he’d brought with him to handle Equinox. Even Frenchie was back home in New York. And he was tired. Very tired. For almost a week he’d been doing what he could to help the police and the National Guard maintain order but it was getting harder every day. Low-level meta-humans were mixed in among the more common criminals leading to increasingly brutal fights.

On top of that, people were disappearing.

At first he had considered it to be simple population drift. People leaving San Fran after the disaster, heading for greener pastures. But some of those missing had left families behind. Children. Wives. Husbands. One old man had left his wheel-chair. All in all, it piqued his investigative streak. But it was hard to investigate anything when he had to worry about costumed criminals invading this no-man’s land looking for anything that wasn’t nailed down.

He settled himself more comfortably on his perch, his mind picking over the information he had on the disappearances and the clues that had brought him here.

Different times. Different sexes. Ages. Races. No real patterns among the victims. So if there was no pattern there, look elsewhere. Location? The disappearances took place at different locations. But always at aid stations. Reaching into a flap on his belt, Moon Knight pulled out a FEMA map of the city, little more than a blue print with aid-stations marked in red. All of the disappearances had been traced with a black line from one station to the next. A spiral pattern had presented itself, looking for all the world like a coiled serpent. And if the pattern were correct and not just a hare-brained theory his sleep-deprived mind had seized onto out of desperation, the next disappearance would occur here at the station below sometime today.

So now he squatted atop a crumbling brownstone, his cloak wrapped tightly around his form as he watched the throngs of displaced humanity mill about in one of the many aid stations the National Guard and FEMA had set up around the city. Offering food, clean clothes and some small illusion of safety the stations were nonetheless havens for the criminally inclined. After all, muggers needed to eat too. Or so he’d been told.

The sky overhead was heavy with slate gray clouds that promised rain. He hadn’t been dry in days. His nose wrinkled. His costume was starting to mildew as well. Unpleasant but nothing to be done for it now.

“OUT OF MY WAY!”

Moon Knight glanced up, looking out over the milling crowd of people. There. A large figure was forcing his way through the crowd towards the food line, his skin the color of the clouds overhead, his eyes redder than the setting sun. Moon Knight sighed. With a muted groan he stood, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Looked like sitting and watching was now out of the question.

Ah, well.

“I SAID OUT OF MY WAY!” the stone-hued man bellowed, flinging National Guardsmen aside. “I’M HUNGRY!”

“We’re all hungry, Slate.” Moon Knight grunted as he landed on all fours behind the man. “Just wait your turn and I won’t bust you right now for disturbing the peace.”

“Moon Knight.” Slate turned, his statuesque features splitting in a grimace. Black teeth that shined like polished gems flashed as he snarled. Slate was a mutant and a wannabe of the worst kind. He’d worked with various gangs in New York for a short while before heading for the West Coast, probably hoping to avoid contact with any ‘capes’. That was the usual result when a wannabe got his ass handed to him as many times as Slate had in his short, inglorious career.

“I’m gonna bust you up.”

“Clever. Is that your new catch-phrase?”

Moon Knight examined Slate as Slate circled him, clenching and unclenching his fists. Super strength. That much was obvious. What level? Not the Hulk. Probably not even on par with Darkhawk. Slate looked more dangerous than he was. Thick hide though. Probably thick enough to keep his darts out. Pressure points then. Easiest way to do this. Quickest too. Too tired for anything else.

“Ain’t going to stop me man. Take what I want and bust up anybody that gets in my way! ‘S why I came down to Frisco in th’ first place.” Slate said.

Moon Knight didn’t bother to reply. He knew what was coming next. Slate swung a fist, telegraphing his move with a grunt of expelled air and Moon Knight threw himself under the blow and inside Slate’s reach. Moon Knight continued moving, rolling between Slate’s legs and flipping over onto his back so that he could lash out with both feet at the back of his opponent’s legs. Something went snap and Slate screamed as he fell onto all fours. Moon Knight was up a second later, and another well placed kick connected with the back of Slate’s head where it connected with his neck. His cries were cut off in mid-wail and he fell senseless to the street. People began to clap as Moon Knight stepped aside and police officers and National Guardsmen took custody of the unconscious brute. One of the officers, a haggard looking man in filthy SWAT gear gave Moon Knight a tired nod.

“Glad you’re here, man. We could use a few more of your buddies on clean-up if you got a way to call ‘em.”

“Unfortunately, we’re on our own officer. I-” Moon Knight stopped, looking around. “You feel something?”

“No, I-wait.” The cop looked around. “I-is the ground…trembling?”

“EARTHQUAKE!”

The pavement beneath their feet gave a sudden lurch and people began to scream as the ground shook with a terrible fury. Dust rose into the air and debris rained down on the aid station. Moon Knight dove forward, his shoulder catching the SWAT officer in the mid-section and knocking him aside as a chunk of masonry smashed into the ground where they’d been standing only moments before. Moon Knight rose into a crouch, eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the dust rising from the street.

A shadow rose behind him and he only narrowly avoided two gray fists slamming into the pavement. Slate swiped at the dust as he regarded Moon Knight.

“Think that was funny, man? Howsabout I give you a kick in the head an we see how funny it is?”

Moon Knight slid a hand inside his cape, not replying. Waste of breath really. Why waste what few jokes he’d stolen from Spider-Man on a loser like Slate? When his hand returned it was with the collapsible truncheon that was the core of his arsenal. With a snap of his wrist he hurled the truncheon into the ground at Slate’s feet where it ricocheted up into the mutant’s face, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch. Apparently adamantium was dense enough to break Slate’s skull. Good to know.

Moon Knight followed through with a side-kick that knocked the wind out of Slate, sending him to his knees. Before he could capitilize however, a burst of green hued energy suddenly crawled over his opponent, knocking him flat. Slate trembled and jerked stiffly where he lay as a sensuous figure stepped out of the obscuring dust cloud the earthquake had thrown up and put a boot on Slate’s back. The woman was slim and petite with dark skin and even darker hair and clad in a white and green costume decorated in a serpentine motif. Energy crackled between the fingers of her upraised hand and she smiled nastily at Moon Knight.

“Hello there. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m the Asp. And you’re dead.” She gestured and the energy rippled from her hand and lashed out at him. Moon Knight threw himself out of the way, scooping up his truncheon as he did so. His mind moved swiftly, going over the facts. Asp. Cleo Nefertiti. Egyptian born mutant. Founding member of the Serpent Society. Capable of emitting a paralytic in the form of energy. Close range fighter. Options? Stay out of her reach, hit her from afar.

“I’ve heard of you. One of Captain America’s old sparring partners. What do you have against Slate there?”

“Not a blessed thing. Target of opportunity if you will.” Asp shrugged and threw another burst of energy at him. “Just like you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be. I don’t usually give my men the chat-up before I sink my teeth in yeah?” Asp laughed, her energy sending him diving back. She was herding him, but wh-

“Aaargh!” Moon Knight screamed as several razor sharp somethings tore through his cape and the flesh beneath. He fell to his knees, slamming his truncheon backwards in an attempt to fend off whatever it was. Hands clad in yellow gloves seized his cowl and yanked him to his feet before settling on his throat. His eyes focused first on the too long strip of mouth that contained a multitude of stick pin fangs.

A gutteral voice said, “I’ve been waiting to kill me an Avenger for years now.”

“I’m not an Avenger.” Moon Knight hissed, stabbing his truncheon into the gut of the purple costumed figure holding him. It released him and stumbled back as Moon Knight fought to clear his head. Cottonmouth. Quincy McIver. Cybernetic implants allowing jaw displacement and titanium dental replacements. Close range combatant as well. Options? Break his jaw. Moon Knight spun the truncheon in his fingers and brought it across Cottonmouth’s face with a startlingly loud crack, sending him stumbling to the ground. Moon Knight kicked his legs out from under him and spun back towards Asp, who was lunging towards him.

“I’m not even a Defender.” Moon Knight said as he smoothly stepped out of the way and brought an elbow down in the middle of her back, knocking her flat. Abruptly the ground seemed to leap out from under him, knocking him onto his back and he let out a yelp of agony as the wounds in his back flared. He tried to get to his feet but the ground was bucking too much. This wasn’t an earthquake. Too localized. None of the buildings were shaking now, just the street. Something else was causing it. People were still screaming, running, scattering. He couldn’t see anything through the dust and the people. Two members of the Serpent Society. Not a coincidence. Wasn’t there another member who could cause localized vibratory disturbances? The Rattler, that was it. He was here somewhere. Had to be. Moon Knight shook his head. His back was on fire. Hard to see straight. Poison?

A shape leapt over the heads of the fleeing refugees, bounced off the nearest pole of the first-aid tent and hurtled through the air at Moon Knight, claws extended, his blood already decorating their tips. Moon Knight rolled aside, unable to get his balance on the pitching street even as the colorful, silent creature landed where he had been and instantly came at him again, tail snapping in its wake. That explained his diminished capabilities, the cold part of his mind noted as he got his first clear look at this newest attacker.

Roland Burroughs. Death Adder. Mute killer with poisonous talons and bionic implants. Also dead. Killed by the Scourge supposedly. Lot of that going around lately. He’d have to look into that later. Talons scraped the pavement as he flipped out of the way. Much later. He twitched his wrist and the truncheon in his hand extended into a staff. He used it to push himself upright just in time to meet Death Adder’s next lunge. No way to avoid it. Not enough strength to stop it. Have to roll with it.

A crimson blur slammed into the mute killer in mid-air, sending him tumbling to the ground. Moon Knight blinked.

“Should’ve expected to see you here.”

Spider-Woman grinned down at him, black hair swirling around her crimson mask. “Nah. I did most of my web-slinging in LA. Only came down here after I lost my powe-hold on.” She spun in place, one shapely leg lashing out to catch a revived Cottonmouth in the gut and sending him flying backwards. Moon Knight cocked his head. His vision was getting blurry. Hard to stand up. Had to stay on his feet until this was over.

“They came back, hunh?”

“Didn’t yours?”

“It seemed like the style at the time.”

“Oh well, if it was a style thing…”

“Are you saying I don’t have style?”

“Never. Far be it from me to comment on somebody’s taste in spandex.”

“Spandex doesn’t breathe.”

“Doesn’t take to water well either apparently. Whew! Mildewy.” She grinned at him again. “Incoming!”

She leapt straight up as Cottonmouth dove under her and straight into the business end of Moon Knight’s staff. “My mildew is none of your business, Drew.” He said through gritted teeth. The pain in his back had become a cool numbness that was spreading swiftly.

“Didn’t say it was Mooney-Tunes. Behind you!” She dropped light-footed onto the tip of his staff and dove off onto Death Adder. Spider-Woman grasped the killer’s wrists, holding his claws away from her face as she brought her knees up into his green, featureless mask, stunning him. “Thought you were dead ‘Adder.”

“You’ll have to excuse Roland. He doesn’t speak much.” Asp said as she came up behind Moon Knight, who was kneeling on the ground, holding himself upright only by his tight grip on his staff which was wedged between two displaced hunks of pavement. “Kind of like your pal here, though that might just be the poison reaching his heart.”

“Poison?” Spider-Woman said. Beneath her, Death Adder clicked his claws as if for emphasis. “Oh that’s lovely.”

“It is isn’t it?” A new figure said, his voice tinged with a slight German accent. “It’s called ‘team-work’ Spider-Woman.” The man was clad in a rusty brown body suit with a thick tail looping up over his masked features. He squatted beside the still paralyzed form of Slate and hefted him over one broad shoulder. With deft fingers he tapped the radio headset on his head and said “Rattler to Snakes Nest. Package is in hand.”

“What about them?” Asp asked as she looked down at Moon Knight, her tongue running across her lips. Rattler grimaced.

“What about them? We don’t need them. No reason to fight them anymore, isn’t that right Spider-Woman? After all, you might want to get your friend some help before he keels over. Can’t stop us and do that at the same time.”

“Can’t stop us any way.” Cottonmouth muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Why the hell does everybody kick me in the damn face?”

“Probably because you keep trying to bite them Quincy.” Rattler sighed. He looked back at Spider-Woman. “Please release Roland and help your friend Spider-Woman. Or refuse and watch him die from Roland’s poison.”

Spider-Woman released Death Adder and flipped away from him as he took a half-hearted swipe at her before scrambling towards his associates. Moon Knight groaned, “Don’t…” his voice trailing off as he collapsed on his face, his fingers reaching out to grab Asp’s leg only to slide off seconds later as she shook his grip off. Spider-Woman leapt towards him even as the four members of the Serpent Society along with their burden vanished in an explosion of blinding light. Spider-Woman cursed and rolled Moon Knight over onto his back. “Shouldn’t have…you shouldn’t…” He muttered weakly. Spider-Woman shook her head.

“Coulda, shoulda woulda Mooney. C’mon. Stay with me.”

He didn’t answer.

Spider-Woman leaned over Moon Knight, listening for his heartbeat.

Faint, growing fainter.

He was dying and there was nothing she could do about it.

Overhead, the sky ripped open and rain began to fall.

NEXT ISSUE: Moon Knight…dead? Probably not, but you’ll have to come back to find out won’t you? And what, exactly, has been going on with the Avengers West while Moon Knight and Spider-Woman have been fighting for their lives? Find out next issue in… 'CHANCE MEETINGS OF LONELY PEOPLE!'

LA-LA LAND

So that’s it. My first issue of Avengers West Coast and my first anything for M2K. Drop me a line at argus33@hotmail.com and let me know what you thought. Even the bad stuff.

-Josh