Marc Spector had been having a good day- earlier.
It had seemed a simple assignment: surveillance over the East River in the area of the United Nations Plaza as part of the special SHIELD task force under the command of Special Agent Sharon Carter. It had been a nice day after the morning storm had blown itself out. The sun was still high in the sky; the air was crisp and clear to the horizon. It promised to be a relaxing bit of a few hours, getting paid top dollar to hover about the towers of Manhattan while Carter and her grunts did the dirty work in the building. A good day's work, but then Frenchie had to go and spoil it.
"What is zat?"
Marc Spector had opened his eyes at the sound of confusion in his friend's voice. Like Spector, Jean-Paul DuChamp was a soldier of fortune turned paid hero on the payroll of the new SHIELD Corp. When Colonel Nicolas Fury had approached the mercenary Spector to hire on as a freelance operative, part of the deal was to include Frenchie. The Frenchman was not only Spector's best friend and confidant, but he was also one of the best pilots that Marc Spector had ever worked with, let alone seen. He had been a player through the hard years when Spector was the Moon Knight, and had stuck by him when Spector's four identities had threatened his very insanity. For Frenchie to sound suddenly confused and surprised, almost worried- well, it could not be good news.
It wasn't. Spector sat bolt upright as he stared out the windscreen at the rapidly approaching aircraft. Even from a distance he could see it was huge, dwarfing the size of his Crescent Copter a dozenfold at least. It resembled an Avenger's Quinjet in a warped kind of way, only bigger of course, and bulkier. Squared corners and heavy shielding replaced the sleek lines of Wakandan and Stark technologies. It seemed powered by energy pods protruding from the sides like hydrofoil runners, and there was an impressive weapon's array lining the roof and sides of the squat, boxy vehicle. All of that aside however, Spector's eyes were riveted on the emblem emblazoned on the side hatch and a smaller version just above the tinted windscreen. It was a designer Cobra hissing within a circle. A symbol known the world over representing the worst bigoted terrorist organization since Hitler's Nazis-
It was the Sons of the Serpent!
"Crap!" Spector screamed, taking control of the Crescent Copter's weapons. "Evasive Frenchie, now!"
Spector felt the Crescent shaped ship veer smoothly to port under his friend's steady hand, but it was probably too late. Both men could see the rocket array churning out exhaust as the Serpent goons drew closer preparing to fire. Spector grabbed at his radio headgear, slipping it in place as he kept one hand on their own weaponry, ready to return fire-
"Keep us movin', Frenchie! I gotta warn the others!"
"Oui, Marc!" the Frenchman said pulling back on the steering column as he tried to evade the larger craft's computer tracking system and still keep the Crescent Ship centered over the East River and away from the buildings on either side. Spector felt the craft lurch as his pilot rolled the nose up, just enough to lose the lift and drop as a series of small missiles whistled past far too close for comfort.
"Aw, crap! This is getting' hairy!"
"Marc! Look!"
Spector focused on the Serpent Assault Craft as the copter dropped back into line of sight. He continued to shout into his radio as he stared at the craft, trying to discern what the Frenchman was indicating-
"They're jammin' the radio! I don't."
Then he saw it. Bay doors had opened in the undercarriage and something had dropped out as the craft veered over the UN Building itself. A bomb? Or.
No! It was a man!
Whoever it was, he was dropping like a rock or a cannonball as Spector saw him start to whirl an over-sized ball and chain at blinding speed, preparing to hurl. It was a big, burly black man dressed in green and yellow, and Spector had just a split second to recognize Thunderball as the man pierced the whatever energy field that the Serpent craft was emitting. Spector heard the static on his radio clear-
"Incoming!" he yelled in a whine of feedback. "We got incoming!" and static crackled in his earpiece once more. Thunderball hurled his massive ball and chain then, and there was nothing to do but watch as the mythic Asgardian might of the weapon smashed through the walls of the United Nation's main building, plowing a ragged, gaping hole into the General Assembly Room itself. The bulky member of the Wrecking Crew simply followed, plummeting with his hand outstretched as though waiting for the ball and chain to return. Spector knew that it would-
"Yah!" Marc Spector cried out as the Crescent Copter pitched wildly and began a slow spiral down. Frenchie was struggling at the controls, his face contorted in determination as he tried in vain to hold the craft steady. Smoke surrounded them as the copter spun faster and faster, and occasionally Spector saw a brief lick of flame. They had been hit and were on fire. Worse, he could see the Serpent craft angling towards them, coming in for the kill.
Sharon Carter Agent of SHIELD cursed as pandemonium broke out in the General Assembly Room of the United Nations! People were running wild in every direction as smoke billowed from the huge hole in the ceiling. They screamed to see fires sparking from long, dangling electrical wires. The alarms were blaring and the internal sprinkler systems had sprung to life, starting to soak everything with a fine spray of water but really doing nothing to the spreading blaze in the ceiling. The delegates were running in circles really, screeching and shoving in a confusion of sudden babble with nowhere to go. Their interpreters were running as well, and chaos reigned it seemed.
There were bottle necks at most of the exits as the employees and ambassadors of the UN struggled to get outside while Carter's own SHIELD agents struggled just as hard to get in. Those few agents that had been within the vast room were trapped in the flow of the mob, trying their best to get to the battles playing out around the vast hall, not daring to fire their weapons for fear of hitting someone in the crowd. Carter could imagine the spools of red tape that would bind her if one of her men killed a delegate, despite what was happening. Hell, she was already looking at a desk job for weeks as the Wakandan Ambassador had been slain on stage already. SHIELD's Internal Affairs would have her out of action for weeks while they scrutinized the incident, trying to figure out her involvement and how better she might have handled things.
"Screw this!" she snarled, slapping a fresh clip into her Beretta 9mm and started shoving her way through the maddening crowd. If she was going to be flying a desk for the foreseeable future, she may as well do so for a good reason-
"Out of my way, damn it! Get down!" she shouted as she shouldered her way forward. She needed to get to the stage where the Wrecker himself stood his ground, swatting aside those few agents and UN Security that had had the balls to hold out against the demi-god. If Carter remembered her research on para normals correctly the Wrecker had been created by Loki, the mighty Thor's nemesis and half-brother. He had something called Norn Power- whatever that was- but it gave him strength and invulnerability on the Thunder God's scale. Thor's logs in the Avenger's files were never complete and always flowery in their speech so it was hard to glean all the facts. The Wrecker was a tough customer however, and coupled with his near indestructible crowbar, almost unstoppable.
Add to that his cronies in the Wrecking Crew and he was a definite force to be reckoned with. Nighthawk had recorded better journals than Thor- thank Odin- and his retelling of the origin of the Wrecking Crew's first encounter with the Defenders was easier to read than the Thunderer's fables. The Wrecker had chosen three of his prison mates to divvy up his Asgardian might with in a prison break. The act had made him weaker, but now there were four of them running around with the strength of at least the Thing, not to mention Thunderball's magic ball and chain that worked much the same as Thor's croquet mallet. They were thugs, with thug mentality, but still tough as Adamantium nails. Thank god for the Juggernaut-
Carter glanced towards the main doorway as she fought her way forward. Cain Marko, the Juggernaut had been guarding the main doors by himself under the assumption that 'Nothing could stop the Juggernaut'. That assumption was apparently being put to the test as one half of they Wrecking Crew seemed to be beating the snot out of Cain Marko. As soon as Thunderball had come crashing through the high-vaulted ceiling, the Juggernaut had come smashing through the heavy oak doors of the main entry. Bulldozer and Piledriver had come charging right in and leaped on the downed Marko, hammering and pummeling with their over-sized fists, barely giving the unstoppable Juggernaut time to think let alone defend himself. Marko was tough Carter knew, but could even he withstand the onslaught of two men that were just a shadow of Thor? She hoped so. Still, that raging battle- lopsided as it seemed- was keeping the panicked mob moving away from the Wrecker and Thunderball. Marko would just have to fend for himself, at least for the time being.
"Lang! Lang!" Carter shouted into her microphone as she pushed forward towards the upraised stage at the front of the auditorium. She had lost contact with the last and smallest member of her task force, the agent and sometimes hero called Ant-Man. The Miniscule Marvel had been scouting out the ventilation system of the building when the Wrecking Crew had attacked. He had been complaining of the smell, and they had suspected that a gas had been employed to dull their collective senses at least. Carter had lost contact with the Tiny Titan, but hoped that he had dealt with that problem and was on his way to help, whatever a two-inch tall man could do-
"No need to shout, Chief. I'm here!" Lang's tiny, tinny voice crackled and whined over the radio. The amplifiers in his helmet made it possible to hear him, barely over the row in the auditorium, but still she was glad to hear his voice. Now if only Spector would chime in-
"I've shut down the gas emitter I found. Somebody was pumping Nitrous Oxide into the hall. Just enough to make us sluggish and happy, slow and hot of course as they turned off the AC and cranked up the internal heaters. I'd suggest-"
"Where are you, Lang? We have a situation here!"
"Still in the ducts, boss. What's happening? I heard an explosion, but I had my helmet sealed so-"
"Get your tiny ass outta the ducts and into the hall, Lang! The Wrecker's here and he brought his buds. He's killed the Wakandan Ambassador, and they're beating the shit outta Marko. I've lost contact with Spector too, and-"
There was a flash of movement on the stage, now just a few yards away. Carter glanced up to see an auburn-haired, black suited beauty arching gracefully through the air as the wrecker swung his crowbar wildly, if ineffectually. It took Carter only a second to recognize the source of the Wrecker's rage. It was the Black Widow, her associate and rival. Carter cursed, slamming a bullet into the chamber of her Beretta and charging forward.
***
Cain Marko was getting annoyed. Bad enough he had been coerced into joining Fury's little SHIELD task force and having to spend many a boring hour on little two-bit jobs that any of the grunts on the squad could have handled, but now with the first real action they had seen he was getting pummeled. It hurt a bit, but worse, it was embarrassing.
He had balked at first, especially at the details. He could feel the tape at the base of his skull scratching and pulling if he moved too much. It was a constant reminder, and one he felt that he really did not need. He had agreed to Fury's little project, partly because of the injuries he had taken in his initial fight with Onslaught- that had been the true eye opener and partly because he was tired. Of course there was nothing that he was afraid of, now at any rate, and there was little in the world- in any world for that matter that could stop the Juggernaut. No prison could hold him, and there were very few people that could even give him pause in a fight. But he was tired of running and being hounded, if not by the so-called heroes and groups like SHIELD, then by the cops and even the Mutant haters. That was the worst sometimes, as he was not even a Mutant. He knew how the Hulk must have felt all the time.
So, with the death of the Avengers and the Fantastic Four it was no surprise really that Fury would come to him with his offer. A probationary pardon for all crimes if he spent a year as one of SHIELD's new super-powered flunkies. A year was nothing to Marko, as the spells of the Cyttorak Crystal that made him strong and nigh invulnerable also retarded his aging to a degree. He would have a place to stay and actually get paid; though the money was banked towards his eventual release. He had to admit that SHIELD had a good benefit plan and a solid pension fund. There was something to be said for being part of a team. Except for the tape on his neck and the monkey suit.
He hated suits, and always had. It was no different now than when he was growing up and had to wear a uniform to school. Cain Marko had always been 'husky', and now he was huge at almost seven feet and nine hundred pounds. Despite the tailor cut, the fabric was stiff and tight and he had cursed Carter for making him wear it while guarding the front doors of the Assembly. It had been all the worse when Bulldozer and Piledriver had showed-
"Lookey there, Hank," Piledriver had ribbed his partner Bulldozer, "I didn't know the circus was in town." Bulldozer had laughed at that. He had his helmet off, carrying it under his arm and both men were wearing huge trenchcoats as though in disguise.
"Yeah, Bri. Looks like one 'a their big monkeys got loose though. A gorilla."
They were bold enough, arrogant as they strolled right up to Marko. Their jibes got worse the closer they got, more foul and demeaning but Marko held his ground and waited. To his credit, despite the anger rising in him, he did not jump the gun-
"You fellas lost?" he had asked, trying to do the right thing. He knew who they were- it was obvious- but then he was not what he appeared to be himself. He wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. "This area's restricted, an' I don't see no ID on either one 'a ya."
The two men burst out with the loud guffaws at that. It lasted almost a minute as they fought to catch a breath, and it was Bulldozer that finally regained his composure- such as it was.
"ID?" he snarled in a very bad Mexican accent. "We don' need no stinkin' ID."
Piledriver's fist had slammed into the side of Marko's head. He had to admit that it was a powerful blow and probably would have killed a lesser man. But Cain Marko was no lesser man. He was the Juggernaut.
"Nice one," Marko grinned, checking his lip for blood but knowing he would find none, "Piledriver, right? And Bull Shit, two of the Whack-off Crew! I always wanted to meet you guys. I can't tell ya how glad I am that there's two of ya, 'cuz I missed my anger management class this morning an' I got me a head full a' frustration ta burn off."
The two men stared at him blankly for a moment as though waiting for the words to reach their brains. Marko remembered that none of the Wrecking Crew were very bright, including Eliot Franklin, Thunderball. He was a doctor, but still stupid enough to keep hanging out with the Wrecker and his gang of losers. More the pity.
Marko stepped forward at their confusion and almost in slow motion drew back his massive fist. He slugged Piledriver right in the face, flattening the man's nose with a satisfying crunch of bone and a smattering of blood. He probably should have taken down Bulldozer first, but Piledriver had attacked him so right was right. The burly blonde flew back off of his feet to land hard and skid across the slick, tiled floor of the hallway. Unfortunately as Marko watched with satisfaction he could see from the corner of his eye that Bulldozer was snapping his helmet into place. It was on then.
With a scream of rage, Bulldozer slammed into the Juggernaut with enough force to stagger him back. Granted, Marko was not braced, and the silly shiny sissy shoes that Carter had made him wear were no help. He skidded across the tiles himself as Bulldozer started hammering his ribs and kidneys, driving forward like his namesake. The man was strong, Marko would admit, but he was not Thor or the Hulk by a long shot. Still, Bulldozer's attack had given Piledriver a chance to get back to his feet. Marko saw the blonde charging forward, his huge arms churning until he leaped. He hit hard, tackling friend and foe alike and the force of the impact sent all three of the men crashing through the Assembly doors.
The General Assembly was in turmoil Marko could see, with people running everywhere and shouting at the tops of their lungs. There was a huge gaping hole in the ceiling and smoke curling up from the seats below where something had apparently come smashing down. Fires were bursting about the hole in the roof, adding to the panic, and there was something happening on the stage as well. Marko turned to see what it was when Bulldozer's fist slammed into his jaw, spinning his head. It hurt-
"Hah!" Bulldozer chortled, drawing back for another blow. "Like that one, boy?" Bulldozer's redneck drawl was grating. Bad enough Marko had to fight these two, but he had to listen to them as well? Not likely. Bulldozer's fist slammed home again even as Piledriver pounded at Marko's ribs. He was starting to feel the beating. He had to end this-
They were playing dogpile on the rabbit, simply pummeling like the brawlers that they were. They were strong, but so was Marko, and one thing that Black Tom had taught him was how to apply his strength. Marko concentrated, trying his best to ignore the blows, trying to find the rhythm of the beating. It was there, and after a few seconds he could tell when to strike. Both men reared back for another blow when Marko reached out, his massive arm swinging widely, his hand catching both men full in the face with an open palm. The two men blinked, more surprised at getting bitch slapped than actually hurt.
Cain Marko kept the pressure and momentum, curling his hand into a fist and backhanding Piledriver in his already bloody nose. He wailed in pain and tumbled back off of Marko's prone body clutching at his face. With Piledriver's weight off of him, it was a simple matter for Marko to then brace on his elbow and continue the motion with his left arm slamming a left hook into Bulldozer's helmeted head. The man's helmet rang like a muffled bell at Marko's attack, and Bulldozer's eyes seemed to vibrate for a moment. He swayed slightly off balance and Marko slammed the heel of his palm up under the man's unprotected nose.
Blood spewed around Cain Marko's fist as the force of his blow actually lifted Bulldozer up and off of him. The bulky man flew backwards to slam onto the floor in the doorway with a mighty crash that actually splintered the reinforced floor. Marko smirked, but took advantage of the brief reprieve to get back to his feet. He looked down at his suit, now filthy and in tatters and made a quick show of dusting away the worst of the dirt. Piledriver was getting back to his feet as well, a big splotch of blood staining his white shirt from his bleeding nose and mouth. Bulldozer was moaning in his hole, but still flat on his back and not even trying to rise yet. Marko smirked and turned his attention on Piledriver-
"Now then, how about we start over?" Marko flexed his massive muscles, ripping away the last remnants of his suit jacket and starched shirt. He popped his neck, then made a fist and did the same to his knuckles. "My name's Cain Marko, but you might know me better as the Juggernaut. That's 'the unstoppable' Juggernaut!" Marko smiled with satisfaction to see the color drain from Piledriver's slack face, obviously not knowing who he had been beating on. Paybacks were definitely a bitch-
"You my friend are trespassing. By the power vested in me by the Federal Government and SHIELD, I'm forced to tell you that you're under arrest.
Please don't surrender."
***
By the time Sharon Carter reached the stage she found that she was late to the party. The Black Widow was already there flitting about and bouncing around the enraged Wrecker. She was trying to stay out of the man's reach, using her greater speed to flip and twist away as he swung ineffectually with his crowbar. She was attacking as well, using her Widow's bite and impressive martial skills to strike at spots on the brute's body that would probably have killed a lesser man. The Wrecker however was not a lesser man. He had gone toe to toe with the likes of Thor and the Hulk and held his own in the process. The Black Widow was simply not in the same weight class and needed help, though what Carter might do she had no idea.
Charging up the steps and onto the stage she saw that the Black Panther had beaten her there as well. He was not fighting however and was still dressed in his ceremonial robes. He was kneeling over the body of his ambassador who the Wrecker had killed outright, simply snapping the man's neck. T'Challa seemed almost defeated as he held the body, his face drawn and sad, his own body sagging with grief as though he had just lost his best friend. Maybe he had and she sympathized, but Carter had to figure that he was not going to be a factor in the fight.
There were SHIELD agents scattered about the stage as well, and UN Security, a few of which, were firing their weapons at the Wrecker to no effect other than to irritate him. He was concentrating on the Widow though, and that was good. Sharon Carter swung wide in her path, motioning for the others to cease fire and back off. She did not relish the thought of being hit with a ricocheting bullet bouncing off of the Wrecker's indestructible skin.
The Black Widow saw her movements and leaped in front of the bigger man. She looked almost childlike standing before him, but she showed no fear as she easily avoided his sweeping arm, drawing his attention as Carter crept around from behind-
"Give up, Wrecker!" she ordered arrogantly as though expecting it to happen. "The Avengers have beaten you before and we will again." The Wrecker laughed-
"The Avengers are dead, honeybunch, an' even if they weren't, you ain't them. Hell, yer the weakest one next ta the Wasp!" He laughed again, but the Widow simply smiled and sidestepped another wild blow.
There was no finesse at all in the Wrecker's attacks, and that was his main fault. If he actually learned how to fight he might actually present a problem, but he was all about sheer brute strength and that was why he always lost. Too it helped that he was dumb as a stump. Just the slightest bit of thinking and he would have realized that the Widow was distracting him as Carter snuck up closer from behind.
Sharon Carter made a motion about her head, indicating to the Widow that she should try to take off the man's mask. The Black Widow nodded slightly that she understood as Carter dug into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small safety-sealed plastic baggie. She ripped the plastic open with her teeth as the Widow started to take random punches at the Wrecker's stomach and face. She kicked, leaping up and vaulting backwards, landing lithely and sweeping her heel into the man's knee. Carter winced at the sound of every blow, and remarkably the Wrecker staggered on occasion. Carter suspected that given time the Widow might actually beat the man if she could keep up the pressure and not tire out herself. It would be a long drawn out battle though, and frankly Sharon Carter did not have the time or patience. The assignment was already a bust and they needed to end the Wrecking Crew's assault fast before more people ended up dead.
Carter pulled the thin strip of black tape from the baggie and dipped her other hand to the clip on her belt that held the control plunger. She slid the dial forward a few notches, changing the frequency of the plunger off of Marko and keying in the new strip of tape. It was a long shot, but if it could bring Cain Marko to his knees then the Neural Tape would do the same to the Wrecker. Carter nodded that she was ready, and the Black Widow nodded in return with a cold smile for her foe-
"It's been fun, Wrecker, but I'm afraid I have another date on my dance card."
The Black Widow tensed and sprang forward, arching up and towards the surprised Wrecker. He was slow, swinging his crowbar where she had been rather than where she would be. Carter watched, amazed at the woman's grace as she vaulted high overhead from an almost standing position. The Widow dropped one hand lightly onto the Wrecker's shoulder and snagged a fist solidly in his purple mask as her momentum carried her up into a handstand. She ripped the man's mask away before she herself sprung off of his shoulder, bounding and twirling in mid leap to land lightly off to the side in front of T'Challa and his downed countryman, ready to defend.
The Wrecker swung wildly, screaming in rage as he whipped his crowbar about overhead. Carter could see that he had no chance in hell of hitting the woman, and the Widow had successfully drawn all of his attention to her. He snarled as Carter crept forward, watching the Widow as she cocked a hip and twirled his ugly purple mask on her finger almost seductively. She blew him a kiss-
"Ya crazy broad!" he snarled, gripping his crowbar all the tighter. He was shaking with rage. "What? Ya think takin' my mask makes me weak? I'm the Wrecker, babe! I beat Thor, an' as soon as I get my hands on you, I'm gonna pop yer head like a-"
Carter ran forward and slapped the tape onto the back of the Wrecker's neck at the base of his skull. He whipped about, swinging his crowbar in a wide arch. Sharon Carter was no idiot however and had immediately ducked expecting the blow. Still she felt the breeze from his swing and that alone almost bowled her over. She rolled off to the side and quickly got to her feet to face the man who was looking at her queerly-
"What was that," he asked, "a love tap?" The Wrecker chuckled as he eyed his new attacker up and down, licking his lips. "I dunno who you are Blondie, but wait yer turn. Soon as I take care a' red I'll get ta you. Ya might wanna flex them lips though while yer waitin'."
Sharon Carter stood her ground and raised the plunger up for him to see. "Suck on this, Garthwaite!" she smiled, her thumb pressing down slightly. The Wrecker screamed!
She had seen the Neural Tape in action first hand years ago. It was an invention of the Red Skull designed to enslave whoever he attached it to, and he of course had planned to enslave everyone. It was designed to attach directly to the nerve system and inflict varying degrees of mental pain on the victim's psyche. A mild charge would bring the wearer to his knees. A bit more pressure on the plunger would induce unconsciousness. Push the trigger all the way into the housing and it killed. He had attached a strip to Captain America back then, but the Skull's own arrogance and the Captain's incredible determination had foiled the Skull's plans. Cap had beaten the Red Skull and his band of Exiles and SHIELD had confiscated the Neural Tape technology for its own. Carter was a little surprised that it had taken Fury so long to employ it, especially after the PSI Division had improved on the original designs.
The tape was potent enough to keep the Juggernaut in line she had learned through trial and error. Of course the Juggernaut's weak spot had always been his susceptibility to mental assault. The Wrecker didn't have that weakness, but despite his amazing strength he was still just a man. Not that you could tell by the sound of his shrill, screaming voice; he sounded like a little girl.
Carter smirked as he staggered forward, clawing at the back of his neck. His eyes were bulging from the pain shooting directly into his nervous system, and tears were running down his cheeks. He was in agony, and he did not wear it well. Carter pressed the plunger a tiny bit more-
"I'd suggest you not rip off the tape, Garthwaite. You do and it'll fry what little brain you have." He whimpered as she pressed down on the plunger, forcing him to his knees. It seemed a kind of torture and almost cruel. Almost.
The Black Widow stepped up beside the Wrecker as he crawled forward on his hands and knees towards Carter. She had to give him credit. He whined like a bitch, but he could take a lot of pain. The Widow laughed and tossed his mask in front of him, taking a stance beside Carter-
"I thought you were a big, tough man, Wrecker. I thought you beat Thor. Look at you now, though, beaten by two women with no powers to speak of." The Black Widow raised her foot and put it on the Wrecker's shoulder. With a shove she easily toppled him onto his side where he curled into fetal position to deal with the pain. She laughed-
"You're a joke."
The Wrecker looked up, his eyes red with tears. He was in agony, but still he reached out, groping. His hand brushed the Widow's boot before she stepped out of reach-
"B-bitch." he mumbled through gritted teeth and Carter pressed the plunger down to full. The Wrecker screamed, his crowbar clattering away as he spasmed on the floor. He jerked once, twice, then fell still. Carter could see him breathing shallowly and sighed, glad that she had not killed the man. Despite his crimes, it was not her place to play judge and jury. She looked up from the Wrecker's splayed body to see the Widow looking at her with a smile. The Russian nodded-
"Good work, Carter. I didn't know you had it in you."
"Yeah, I'm just full of surprises-"
The stage suddenly exploded in a shower of debris as a huge wrecking ball came crashing down. The Widow pushed Carter aside as she herself sprang away in the opposite direction. Carter rolled aside, coming up in a crouch to scan the carnage and saw Thunderball stalking up the stairs pulling in his chain and drawing back his ball.
"I do not believe this," he said as he started spinning the ball again in an ever-widening arch. "Viper said nothing about the Juggernaut, and now the Wrecker gets beaten by a pair of women with no powers. Well, ladies, I'm far from beaten!"
Thunderball was twirling his ball and chain overhead as he drew closer. Carter saw that the Widow was ready to fight, but she herself had nothing. She doubted that she would get the chance to use another strip of tape as Thunderball was the smartest of the Crew, smarter than the other three together actually. Still, she had to try and raised her Beretta again, firing. The bullets bounced away and Thunderball laughed-
"You're kidding, right? Start running now, woman, and I might-"
Thunderball's eyes rolled up into his head as he seemed to choke for a moment. He lost the grip on his ball and chain as he shook his head, his weapon flying off into the wings and smashing through the wall. He staggered, still walking forward as he clutched at his ears, finally slapping his hand against the side of his head with a mighty blow. He winced and dropped to his knees, gurgled and finally fell forward flat on his face. Both Carter and the Black Widow stared at his prone body for a moment, then looked at one another before stepping forward-
"What happened?" the Widow asked, prodding his body with the toe of her boot.
"I don't-"
Carter squinted as blood trickled out of the fallen man's ear. There was something tiny struggling in the flow, looking weak and caked with earwax. She crouched down for a better look as the tiny thing staggered about and finally collapsed before the toe of her pump. He was covered in gore, but she could see the red of the costume and the shine of the cybernetic helmet. It was Scott Lang, the astonishing Ant-Man.
The little man was barely an inch tall. Apparently he had gone into Thunderball's ear canal and had attacked the man directly, bypassing his super hard skin. Whatever he had done had taken out the black man, but when Thunderball had slapped at his ears the concussion must have dazed the tiny hero in return. He had crawled free and grown enough to be seen, barely, but had then promptly fallen unconscious. Luckily Carter had known what to look for or the little man might have ended up a bloody spot on the bottom of her shoe.
Carter reached down and gingerly picked up the tiny man, grasping him between the nails of her thumb and forefinger as she stood. She thought briefly of activating the canisters containing Pym's molecular altering gases that Lang wore at his belt, but they were so tiny and she realized that she did not know which one might enlarge the little hero. It was a fifty-fifty chance, but if she chose wrong she might shrink Lang away to nothing. She held the little man in the palm of her hand, hoping he might wake up as the Widow leaned in and peered closer-
"Ant-Man?" she asked, and Carter nodded. The Widow smiled. "He's kind of cute like that." Sharon Carter smiled, nudging the little man in the palm of her hand with her fingernail-
"Yeah," she agreed, "unfortunately he's out cold." Carter thought for a moment and finally opened her suit jacket. She pulled out on the hem of her inner breast pocket and gingerly dropped the tiny, unconscious man within. She hoped that he would be safe there, as she did not have any other options. She closed her jacket and buttoned it up so that he would not bounce around too much. There was still work to do, and two of the Crew still unaccounted for.
"Bravo, ladies!"
Carter turned towards the auditorium at the sound of light applause and saw Victor Von Doom standing amidst the turmoil clapping his hands. His suit was still spotless, and he was surrounded by his robotic guardians, his cold metallic mask glistening in the firelight from above.
"A most excellent job. Well done."
"We gonna have problems with you now, Doom?"
Sharon Carter glanced to the side and saw Cain Marko striding forward. Piledriver and Bulldozer lay unconscious in his wake in the shattered remains of the main doorway, but Marko himself looked none the worse for wear despite the shredded remains of his custom made suit.
"Hardly Mister Marko." Doom might have smiled, it was hard to tell behind his mask. "You'll find that my obsessions died with Richards and his friends. I am a simple monarch, a bastion for the people of Latveria. I simply wish to contribute to the global community now. I am happy that you all succeeded so well against these common terrorists." Doom sniffed, surveying the scene and then gave a slight bow towards the stage.
"By your leave, ladies."
Victor Von Doom turned and headed confidently towards the nearest exit. His robot guards surrounded him, clearing the path and in seconds he was gone. Carter sighed-
"Thank god." she whispered, and the Black Widow agreed despite her theological beliefs. None of them had wanted to take on Doom.
"Carter!"
The tinny sound of her radio shocked Sharon Carter back to reality. She touched her earpiece, trying to focus the signal. It was Spector-
"Spector! What happened?"
"It was Hydra, I think," he said, though his voice did not sound sure. "There was an assault craft dropped Thunderball then attacked us. Knocked us into the East River. It seemed though that the Sons of the Serpent were involved, or at least bein' used. The craft was Hydra all the way. I've seen the specs, but it was done up with a Sons of the Serpent logo. The Crescent Copter's a total loss, but Frenchie and me are fine. How's you?"
"We're good. It was the Wrecking Crew, but we took them out. Get in here ASAP, Spector."
"Roger, Chief." The radio went dead and Carter shut down the feed. She surveyed the damage, shaking her head. Fires were still burning in the ceiling, and there was untold damage in the hall, but aside from the Wakandan Ambassador it did not look as though any other lives were lost. T'Challa did not look as though he were in the mood to talk, let alone file a report so Carter left the monarch to his grief. She had known the Black Panther for years, but they had never really been friends. Let Fury handle him. She got back on the radio and ordered the site secured, sending a message to SHIELD in the process, as well as Damage Control. There was a lot of mopping up to do, but that was someone else's problem.
Her job was done.
***
Baron Wolfgang Strucker stared at the computer screen as he scrolled through the current report. He mused, wishing that he had had computers back in the Forties. He could not imagine how the war might have gone with the knowledge of the world at his fingertips. Still, if wishes were fishes.
The assault on the United Nations had gone more or less as planned. He had not expected the Wrecking Crew to succeed beyond their initial goal of killing the Wakandan Ambassador and planting the first seeds of doubt. He had not expected the Juggernaut to be on hand however, and he would have to reconsider Fury's current task force into the overall equation. If his old foe was pulling in that kind of power, Strucker might have to step up the Dreadnought reconfigurations.
Still, all had gone well. He would contact Madame Viper in a few hours and order her to proceed with the next stage of the operation. She would complain of course, but she would also comply in the end. Her Serpents would do the job, and then Hydra would step in to lay the final stroke. Not the Juggernaut, nor Fury, nor Doom would be able to stay the final victory of Hydra then. It was so written.
The time had come for Strucker's final, ultimate victory. Not even the machinations of the Red Skull could turn the tide now. With the heroes of the world dead and gone, now was the time to strike, hard and fast!
The world was his for the taking. It was just a matter of time.
To Be Continued.