New York Harbor
22:02:16
Zero Hour Plus…
.17…
.18…
.19…

Clint Barton stood at the head of the launch, leaning against the railing and watching as Avengers Island grew ever larger with each passing moment. Lady Liberty stood tall and proud to his right on Bedloe Island, her golden torch held high for all to see, sparkling in the otherwise dark night. To the port the Brooklyn docks of Red Hook sat in the distance lined with tankers and cargo ships unloading their latest hauls. A Staten Island Ferry passed between the launch and Brooklyn, Long Island; foghorn blaring as Clint waved and smiled at the few passengers it held so late at night. God, it was good to be back home.

Home…

It seemed years since he had left New York; first to head up the West Coast Avengers, then later to link up with the Thunderbolts. Good years and despite set backs he felt that he had done many things worthwhile, gotten a lot accomplished. But times change, and when Tony had called him asking if he wanted to rejoin the Avengers East he had jumped at the chance. He had done all that he could with the Thunderbolts really, and with Zemo calling the shots and near omnipotent with the Moonstones in his possession there was little left that he could do. And of course there was Karla…

Clint sighed.

Visions of Karla Sofen, Moonstone flitted through his mind’s eye. Beautiful, intelligent, that sarcastic wit… He had loved her, but the things that she had done had always stood between them. It hurt to think that she had manipulated him like everyone else, that it had all been a sham. He liked to think that she had cared, but it was hard to believe after all she had done in the end. He wondered why he could not find something that would last.

Natasha…

Bobbi…

Karla…

“Needles and pins, brother,” he said to himself as he saw a trail of smoke spiraling skyward from Avengers Island. He peered forward, squinting, trying to focus but could not see anything definite for the distance yet.

“Penny for ‘em, Mister Barton.”

Clint almost yelped, actually twitched as Melissa Gold stepped up to the railing beside him. He had been so lost in thought that he had not heard her approach. Dressed in faded, raggedy Levi’s and a gray UCLA hoody she smiled up at him, flipping her auburn ponytail over her shoulder. He forced a smile in return.

“Not worth the price of admission, Mel.” Clint returned his attention to the column of smoke, definitely out of place. His mind rattled off all the possible scenarios: Construction… Attack… Experiment… Attack… Shell Head showing off another new power… Attack…

“Something’s wrong,” he said as the hackles on the back of his neck prickled. He pointed to the island, not five minutes away now and saw the gathering at the docks. “Dammit! Should have had Ebersol ‘port us right to the Island instead of the docks. Tony could have shut down the defenses for the coupl’a seconds. Suit up Mel,” he said even as Melissa Gold shrieked. Her clothes shredded as solid sound wings ripped free to reveal her Songbird armor already in place.

“Way ahead of you, Hawk. Why don’t you suit up and join me?”

Clint Barton, the Avenging Archer Hawkeye watched as Songbird trilled a note and rose skyward. “Mel…” he said, raising a hand after her then winced as the pitch rose to a biting intensity and she soared off ahead of the ferry, arching towards Avengers Island.

“God… Dammit!” Hawkeye spat as he ran back to the rear of the launch and pulled his uniform, bow and arrows from his bags. Quickly he donned his purple and blue outfit, then strung his bow before returning to the front of the launch. He knew that Melissa would want to prove herself to the Avengers, but he never dreamed she would be so reckless, running wild into a danger zone alone. He thought he had taught her better.

“C’mon…” he said as the ferry plowed the choppy waters of the harbor, slowly- so slowly moving closer…

THE DAY AFTER

Part II

By Curtis Fernlund and Dino Pollard

Avengers Island
20:16:18
Zero Hour Minus:
17…
16…
15…

I glance about the Island seemingly bored. In truth I am elated. I relish the fresh air, even the sour brine wafting over the polluted depths of New York Harbor. It is good to be free, to the extent that I am. Soon I shall be fully unshackled. Free in body as well as mind and spirit.

I step from the ferry behind Stark, in front of Richards. They think I am complacent and cowed, and I am the prior, at least for the moment. I live to learn, and I know that the island will be ripe with technologies that have surpassed me in my incarceration at the Vault. Stark is a genius, I will readily admit with no shame, as is Richards. Not on my par of course, but deviant in their thinking and thus producing innovations that had not crossed my mind nor intellect. Distracted no doubt, no matter.

Stark leads me from the docks towards a long squat building with a generic Red Cross labeled on the side of the main door. The sickbay I assume, though expected. Where the android no doubt waits. We are 13 seconds ahead of schedule…

Avengers Island
22:01:14…
Zero Hour Minus
00:01:18…
17…
16…

The Vision staggered back as the android slammed his massive fist down. The creature had adapted his powers, as he had the others and was now diamond hard, his mass overwhelming. The Vision fell to the grass under the strength of the blow, internal mechanisms adjusting at a frantic pace to compensate the damage.

The Vision looked up and about, eyes glowing red as he scanned the battlefield. He saw Captain America lying not so far away, stunned. Beyond him the elasticized body of Reed Richards sprawled, stretched to its limits and spread over the Great Lawn.

Verdant, androgynous mechanisms vaguely resembling men scurried through the compound, the buildings on the island. Lesser androids created by the Thinker to carry out his mundane whims, robbing technology by the look, their first goal of overwhelming the Avengers achieved.

Heat flared as twin beams of solar energy shot forth from the Vision’s dark eyes. The androids staggered and stalled, melting in place at his assault.

The massive, diamond hard fist of the Awesome Android slammed into his back again.

Internal Mechanisms off-line…

Reboot!

Avengers Island
20:24:12…
Zero Hour Minus
01:38:54…
53…
52…

Hammond eyes me suspiciously and with good reason. I killed his protégé after all, after a fact. It was necessary at the time, though in retrospect I believe that I might have put the mind-controlled Toro to better use than a pointless battle with Johnny Storm. The original Human Torch says nothing of course, knowing to mind his betters.

Pym on the other hand babbles incessantly. I acknowledge his brilliance in both biochemistry and robotics, as well as a nod to the advances he has made in cybernetics, but I find his prattle boring and answer his questions shortly and tersely, my attention more focused on the android Vision.

Richards has capped his arm with an apparatus that seems inordinately elaborate. I wonder at their concern with the android’s desire to lessen his mass and density. Pym should know that the severed arm will not be affected, and in fact it would be beneficial as the android’s internal repair system cannot compensate and initialize with the Vision’s current molecular state. They of course do not need to know this.

They wish me to recreate the lost appendage. And I will. It will not matter in the end. They have all the materials necessary on hand, including Richards’ own Unstable Molecules, which is the key they are all missing. And I have time to kill.

The signal went out as soon as I stepped out of the confines of the Vault. My minions wake across the boroughs and move towards me and freedom. My greatest creation to the fore. I estimate 58.03 minutes before the initial wave arrive.

Plenty of time…

Red Hook, Brooklyn
19:21:14
Zero Hour Minus
02:11:59…
58…
57…

In a dim and seemingly deserted warehouse along the old waterfront a low light red LED suddenly winked to brilliance cutting a dull swath into the dusty gloom. Tri-Star Security Guard Duane Taylor might have seen it as he was passing the very crate that the glow was emitting from, filtering through cheap and rotting wood and warped slats. He was however preoccupied.

“Poopsie,” he cooed trying to hold the chain and leather leash attached to his Rottweiler. The dog was suddenly yowling and whining, straining at the leash with its ears flat to its skull. The huge, muscular dog snarled and snapped in between ear-piercing whimpers as it shook its head in pain and frustration.

“What is it boy? What’s wrong?”

Looping the handle of the leash about his left wrist and trying to hold his flashlight steady, not being a fool Duane drew his weapon; a sleek, black .34 automatic. He flicked off the safety as he glanced about nervously, the beam of the flashlight wavering with the dog’s struggles to be freed. He felt marginally better with the weight of the gun in his hand as he chambered a round, but there were just so many places to hide in the damn warehouse.

It was stacked with crates, dozens of them and all just a little bigger than a coffin. Gave him the creeps. And he didn’t even know what was in the fuckin’ things. They were all labeled as containing mechanical parts. For what, he had no idea. Not part of the job description for him to know, and truth to tell, he really never cared.

He was getting paid top dollar for this gig, cuz he was smart enough to get certified. Had his gun license paid out and updated, certified to carry concealed and his .34 was registered, unlike the AMT backup he kept strapped in his ankle holster. Nice and easy; stroll the place once an hour on the hour for eight hours six days a week. Boring as hell, but easy money and never a hassle in three years plus. Until now…

“Okay, Poops,” Duane said as he dropped to a crouch and wrapped an arm about the fidgeting Rott. He set the gun to the grimy stone floor as he unclipped the chain from the dog’s collar. “Go find ‘em!”

Duane picked up the gun as the dog half-snarled, half-yowled and dashed off amongst the crates through a gap ahead and to their left. Rising he started off to follow, then sopped when he heard the sound of wood shattering over the dog’s barking.

“What the fuck?”

The Rottweiler’s howling whine of agony chilled his soul until it was abruptly cut off in mid-shriek. “Jesus…” he whispered, licking his lips. Poopsie was 120 pounds of solid muscle. What could stop that without a sound save a gun with a suppressor? He hadn’t heard a shot. Who was here?

Creaking sounds; nails rending, wood crashing and splintering echoing all around…

Duane backed against the closest stack of crates, nervously glancing right and left. Some shit was going down, but—

A smashing sound directly behind him. Duane yelped and turned training gun and flashlight on the crates stacked four high before him. Splinters of wood rained down as his eyes widened to see a shining green hand reach up out of the top crate and clutch the side.

He watched as a figure smashed out of the wooden box and sat up. It was green and looked metallic, and its head was totally blank, smooth and pointed. Still it turned and seemed to stare at him. Duane raised his gun, arm quivering…

“Fuck this!”

Duane Taylor turned to run and did not even register the metallic green fist as it smashed into his face, shattering his skull…

02:18:03…
02…
01…

Angel Ruiz would later try to convince his friends at the St. Francis Xavier Soup Kitchen as to what he had seen. Angel was homeless, had been living on the streets of Brooklyn for over ten years and was well known throughout Red Hook, his usual haunt.

Still, he was an alcoholic, and smelled, and despite his recognition, his credibility was lacking. Even his fellows had laughed when he had told them of the dozens of little green men that he had seen busting out of the old Dyer Warehouse and jumping into the harbor.

Angel had ranted and raved that he had seen it, going on and getting out of control. Finally Pastor John had brought him seconds to shut him up.

Angel had fumed for a few minutes, but finally started to eat and nothing more was said of little green men, at least until the news report of the latest assault on Avengers Island.

No one ever doubted Angel Ruiz again…

Manhattan, Midtown
19:21:29
Zero Hour Minus
02:12:44…
43…
42…

Andy looked up from the filing cabinet in something that could be associated with shock. Enzymes dribbled within his massive head, the under-achieving computerized brain cycling as new information fed into long dormant receptors. Circuitry clicked. He dropped the huge stack of files, papers spewing across the rich shag carpeting as he turned and stepped to the closest wall.

Alan Goodman, First Partner of Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzburg and Holliway paused as he was passing the doorway to the main Hard Files room. At sixty-two it was his decision to keep an accurate and up-to-date paper filing system for back up. He had never trusted computers, though he admired their convenience. Despite his partner’s assurances, he wanted everything; every deed and lease and contract and record of every case logged in good, real paper.

And in Andy, they had found the perfect file clerk. Alan had been leery when Jennifer had brought the odd creature into their midst, but she had assured them all that he was benign and wanted to turn over a new leaf, leaving the life of crime that he had led prior. Grudgingly the partners had agreed to her terms and had been pleased with the results.

Andy’s mind was razor-sharp, and though he could not speak, he did not need to eat or drink or take lunch, but quietly, seemingly happily kept working at whatever job they gave him. In truth, though none of them would ever say so outwardly, Andy was a slave; working for free but for the cost of clothing him. At night he simply stood in the corner and powered down for a time, recharging, Alan assumed. He wished his wife was so efficient and dedicated.

So he was a bit concerned when he glanced into the file room in passing and saw the sheaf of papers strewn about the floor, Andy staring out the window—at least he assumed that Andy was staring. He had no eyes in that big cubicle head.

“Andy?” Alan Goodman said as he stepped into the room. He glanced at the papers littering the carpet as he approached his ‘employee’. “Is everything all right?”

Alan Goodman gasped and staggered backwards as Andy grew before his eyes. He quickly shredded the tight confines of the black pinstripe suit that he was wearing, his huge hands reaching forward and pressing against the wall. Alan saw cracks appear as the paint chipped and fell away. He heard a creaking, cracking noise and suddenly the outer wall shattered and crumbled to leave a gaping hole that showed a fantastic view of the Empire State Building ten blocks south.

The huge blockhead swiveled on the remarkably short and skinny neck, and Alan sensed that he was being scrutinized. Too, he was suddenly very afraid.

But then the moment was over as Andy stepped through the gash that he had created in the building’s outer wall and into space. Alan stared dumbly as the file clerk vanished from view, then shambled forward to see what had happened.

He saw Andy far below, landing in the middle of Park Avenue with a deafening crash. Traffic immediately came to a screeching halt as Andy pulled himself out of the crater he had created with impact. Horns blared as he stood upright, glanced about and then started striding downtown, his long gait carrying him swiftly.

Alan watched until Andy vanished into Union Square Park some thirty blocks south, then stepped away from the gaping hole. He fished into his pocket and produced his cell phone, thumbing through his Contacts, which were numerous. Finally he found who he wanted and hit send, grimacing as he got a Voice-Mail message:

“Hi! This is Jen. I’m probably out saving the universe or something. Leave a message and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Kiss!”

“Jennifer,” Alan said, as he sat in the room’s one hardback chair. “This is Alan Goodman. I think we may have a problem…”

Avengers Island
21:32:18…
Zero Hour Minus
00:30:28…
27…
26…

“Unglaublich!”

Kurt Wagner blinked, then stared in disbelief watching as the first of the strange green men climbed out of the briny mire of New York Harbor, scrambling up and onto Avengers Island. They appeared to be identical; muscular and wiry, a pale shining green and faceless. And countless as their numbers seemed to double by the second.

“What are they?” he asked in disbelief. He had been down at the docks watching as the workmen from Stark Industries continued their repairs suffered from the attack of Moses Magnum and the Wrecking Crew. He and Josiah X, the new Captain America. He had been trying to get to know the man, knowing that he was probably feeling as much an outsider as was Nightcrawler in this new group of Avengers, trying to find common ground in their opposing religious beliefs.

Not that Tony Stark, and everyone had not made them feel welcome, but after so many years with the X-Men and Excalibur, it was just hard to adjust, especially to a group that was not fully rostered with mutants. There was no bigotry in the Mighty Avengers though. The group was truly universal, touting not only mutants and humans, but mutates, gods, aliens and androids. And despite a few tenuous moments, they were starting to feel like family.

“Invaders,” Captain America said, charging forward and pulling that phantastisch shield from his back, moving fluidly and with determination. Nightcrawler bounded after him even as Josiah X leaped and smashed into the first wave of the green men, arms thrashing, legs kicking out, shield slamming in a flurry that sent the ‘invaders’ sprawling. He was not quite Steve Rogers, still Josiah X moved like a cat, flowing from one foe to the next without breaking stride. Nightcrawler saw many of the green men fall to Captain America and his shield, swiftly and easily, yet several all seemed to just as swiftly and easily rise again.

And then he was in the thick of the battle, teleporting into the fray. He kicked and hit, his tail wrapping about the throat of one of the invaders, dragging him down though he did not seem to be affected by the pressure about his neck. They were armored, and Kurt Wagner was surprised that they seemed to have no weapons. And why no faces?

“Robots!” Josiah X shouted as the green men seemed to swarm him. His shield was slamming and slashing now and Nightcrawler saw one of the creatures go down suddenly bereft of his head. He saw wiring and circuitry spew from the gaping wound as the body staggered and fell to earth with a thump.

“I recognize them now!” Captain America shouted, suddenly taken with a surge of energy as he waded into the growing army. “From the computer records! The Mad Thinker uses them as fodder in his schemes. It’s him!”

And of course that should have been obvious. Free from the confines of the Vault they should have expected the Thinker to try to escape. But knowing now that these were just machines, lifeless automatons, there was no reason to hold back. Kurt Wagner ported to the construction area and hefted a solid rod of rebar, then ported back into the midst of the invaders…

The winds shifted direction and kicked up in their intensity, carrying Ororo Munroe back towards Avengers Island. She had been enjoying herself, slowly hovering over the Atlantic, when her Avengers ID card issued a warning sent by Iron Man. The Island was under attack, yet again. In the short time that she had been an Avenger, in the short time since the Island’s construction, it seemed that they were continually under attack from outside forces.

She had no complaints, however. Given the Avengers’ recent association with the X-Corporation and those who disagreed with the United Nations’ grant of sovereignty, it was to be expected that many would seek to strike at them. Some, it seemed, were doing it out of a personal vendetta against the team. But others, such as Moses Magnum she suspected, seemed to be pawns controlled by a chessmaster.

Time for those thoughts later. For the moment, her teammates needed her, and the woman once worshipped as a goddess would answer their call. As she came upon the island, she saw dozens of green men swarming the island and also noticed her teammates and the visiting guests engaging them in battle.

Storm watched as her old friend Nightcrawler teleported onto the back of one of the invaders. Kurt took the enemy’s head in his three-fingered hands and then vanished with it in a puff of smoke and the scent of brimstone. Storm was momentarily shocked at her friend’s supposed brutality but then she saw the sparks flying from where the severed head had once been—robots.

She hovered in the midst, her eyes a blank white and her hair standing on end. Storm threw her arms to the heavens and lightning flew from the clouds, traveling through several of the robots like a chain while staying clear of her compatriots.

Hank Pym had used his abilities to grow above the group, now standing at least twenty feet tall. In the distance, he saw something else rapidly approaching their location. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

The Awesome Android arrived on the Island and Pym attempted to intercept him. The Android’s powerful legs sent him onto Pym’s face and on contact with the Avenger, the Android acquired his size-shifting abilities. Within seconds, the Android towered above Pym. Although Pym was superstrong in his giant form, it was still just the comparative strength of him in normal form. The comparative strength of the Awesome Android was far greater and it was mere moments before one of the first Avengers toppled over, crashing to the ground.

The Torch flew around the Android, avoiding his grasp and dealing out fireballs wherever he could. Hammond was fast, but the Android moved with a swiftness that his present appearance denied. Frustrated at being unable to catch the Torch, the Android opened his large mouth and a massive burst of wind issued forth, powerful enough to both temporarily extinguish the Torch and knock him from the air.

Iron Man came to the Torch’s rescue, catching him in midair. The two of them landed safely and Tony’s scanners ran a diagnostic check on the Torch’s android body. Hammond however pushed him away.

“All he did was the equivalent of blowing out my pilot light,” said Hammond. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes, but we may not have them if you don’t get back in there.”

“Fair enough,” said Iron Man, his boot thrusters taking him back to the battle. As he approached, he watched as Mr. Fantastic tried to contain the Android by draping his body around. Instead, the Android reacted by grabbing Reed’s neck and legs and pulled them, pushing Reed to the limits of his abilities until the strain caused the scientist to lose consciousness.

Casting off the Fantastic Four’s leader, the Android now acquired his stretching ability and used it to both catch Captain America’s shield as he hurled it and cause it to ricochet back into his chest, knocking him from the fight. Nightcrawler went to his friend’s aid, and found he was fine, which left Storm to deal with the Android on her own.

“Kurt, my sensors indicate more of the Thinker’s robots have arrived on the Island,” said Iron Man. “You and Storm take them on, I’ll deal with the Awesome Android.”

“What if it adapts to your armor?” asked Nightcrawler.

“The Android’s just a diversion so the robots can free the Thinker. I need you two to make sure that doesn’t happen,” said Iron Man. He flew straight into the Android from there, his unibeam unleashing a massive burst of repulsor energy. While Iron Man dealt with the Android, Nightcrawler explained the situation to Storm and the pair went to stop the green men.

The Vision came into the fray next, his body still adapting to the new arm. He knew he needed to wait a little longer, but he cared not. Now the important thing was to help his teammates before the situation grew too dire. From his forehead gem, a blast of solar energy ignited and drew the Android’s attention to him.

Avengers Island
Zero Hour Plus…
01.23…
.24…
.25…

Melissa Gold swooped low as she soared over the island. She saw the huge… thing with the big cubicle head crane its neck and watch as she passed. A man in prison fatigues watched as well, as men in green armor ran about the island. The attackers seemed to be ignoring the construction workers, which was good, and they were all huddled at the island’s edge awaiting the ferry back to the mainland approaching with Hawkeye.

She arched up and about, then shot downwards again swiftly, zeroing in on the huge, gray giant. It simply stood there, wrinkles in its blockhead as it took her in. Melissa sang, calling on her powers as she dove at the thing. It could not be alive so she conjured an axe made of solid sound, her trilling voice manipulating the energies amplified by her carapace, honing the blade for a killing stroke.

She slashed in passing, but her axe bounced away, and worse! The monstrosity lashed out swiftly, its fist connecting with her back. Songbird fluttered and flailed, finally slamming into the dirt at the feet of the man. Stars exploded as she shook her head, clawing at the earth to try and rise again.

“Interesting…” the man said stepping up to her. “The X-Factor rears its unbidden head again. You were unexpected, but not unanticipated. I allow for variance in my projections.”

With that the man kicked her in the face and she fell unconscious…

Avengers Island
21:21:03…
Zero Hour Minus
00:41:31…
30…
29…

“It’s a simple matter of incorporating the Unstable Molecules into the equation,” the Mad Thinker said as he held the new arm that he had fashioned from the construct that Richards and Pym had devised based on Hammond’s data. He smirked at the thought that Richards could not see the link needed to solve this problem. A thought occurred that perhaps the vaunted Reed Richards had not truly invented Unstable Molecules but had rather stolen Horton’s ideas. Something to investigate as time allowed.

They are fools, he thought as he watched the crimson stub of the android’s arm connect to his new, gray appendage. They know the basics, but are unwilling to take the chance and the step further to save their friend. Such a simple procedure, yet they were all lacking in the skill, the knowledge, the intelligence. Yet more evidence that he and he alone was the greatest mind of our time.

“It will take two hours, twenty-eight minutes and approximately seventeen seconds for the android’s body to accept the new prosthetic. The arm will adapt to the body even as the android’s inner workings adjust to the new limb, finally accepting it. The unique fluids and mechanisms must be given time to merge. He should remain in his massed form until the process runs its course.”

“Of course,” Richards said, trying to sound as if he understood. The Mad Thinker glanced at his peer, smiling slightly as he saw the clock on the wall behind the ‘greatest mind on the face of the planet’.

Seven…

Six…

“This will sit well with the powers that be, Thinker,” Stark said. “I’ll put in a good word with the parole board, and next time you’re up, you might be surprised.”

Five…

Four…

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Stark,” the Thinker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You cannot know how much that means to me.”

Three…

Two…

An alarm blared, a screeching claxon that set all on edge. The Thinker glanced at the wall clock and frowned. One point three-eight seconds early. I must recalculate…

“What’s that?” Hammond said, his body smoldering.

“Intruders!” Stark said moving to the computer slave node in the corner of the lab. He swiftly typed in commands, speaking as well and brought up a holographic image of the fight outside.

The Thinker smiled to see his long dormant robotic lackeys swarming the island. The Awesome Android had yet to arrive—One minute, thirty-eight point two seconds, but he would be there, and the Avengers would fall and he would be free.

A flash of light and Stark was suddenly encumbered by his armor. The Thinker could hear it powering even as Stark gave direction. Amazing technology, that armor…

“It’s an army,” Richards said as he glanced at the Thinker. “In very familiar colors.” The Thinker shrugged.

“My minions are dedicated to my survival,” he said with a smirk. “What can I do?”

“You can call them off!” Hammond said, his body suddenly engulfed in flame. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”

“Your knowledge is redundant, mundane and lacking,” the Thinker said. “When you are all defeated in 10.01 minutes I shall flay your remains and steal your secrets, incorporating them into the latest ‘Battle Droid’ that I am envisioning. It shall be my greatest achievement.”

“You sonnova—”

“We don’t have time for this,” Stark said as his armored form rose into the air. “We need to stop the Thinker’s robots before they download the island’s database. C’mon!”

The Mad Thinker stood, still shackled as he watched the Avengers surge from the Lab. Only the android Vision hesitated, eyeing the Thinker curiously.

“I sense there is more to this,” he said coldly, his voice deep and monotone.

“You will learn in 17.08 seconds,” the Thinker replied coolie. “My time has come at last.”

“We shall see.” And the Vision departed in the wake of the others, ground shifting underfoot at his massed density..

“Indeed.”

Avengers Island
Zero Hour Plus…
07:10…
.11…
.12…

A flare arrow went up even as Hawkeye leaped from the launch before it fully docked adding to the arc sodium lighting that washed over the compound. He hit the ground running, bow at the ready, sonic arrow notched at string. Sonics was always a good start, as he had learned that it at least befuddled most of his usual opponents from the start. Glancing at the few remaining Green Men scurrying about the island, he had his doubts however.

EMP, he thought even as he scanned the battlefield. He saw Melissa lying facedown in the grass about a hundred feet away, Stark on his back, his armor sparking, Richards elongated flesh everywhere. Then he saw the Awesome Android stalking his way. He saw too the Mad Thinker walking calmly in the monster’s wake.

“Oy,” he whispered, his fingers flying to the quiver of arrows strapped to his thigh. The EMP was forgotten, knowing that it would do zilch against the Thinker’s greatest creation. He threaded through the fletching, his mind racing as he tried to recall what might take the android down.

“If you resist, you will be defeated in five point eight seconds,” the Thinker said, stopping a short distance away. “If you surrender you will be eliminated in six point nine seconds. Not enough of a margin to adjust my calculations.”

Hawkeye did not even have a chance to respond as the Awesome Android stepped up and loomed, its massive fist raised high…

Hawkeye leaped forward through the android’s legs even as the near indestructible fist slammed to earth where he had just stood. He hit the ground and rolled, his mind racing as he recalled the Avenger’s Files on the construct. Once upon a time he had ignored Captain America and the protocols of the Avengers’ Mainframe and Attuma had almost flooded the world.

Never again! That had been the turning point, when the fate of the world had rested on his shoulders. The Avengers in jeopardy, the world on the brink of destruction. Clint Barton had spent every waking moment after pouring over the Avengers’ Files and the Links to the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, S.H.I.E.L.D., and every other group to emerge thereafter. He learned and logged statistics to memory; his foes and their weaknesses. And all the while he kept up the façade, cracking jokes, playing the ass…

But it had paid off, now especially.

He grinned as he rolled to his feet and pulled the proper arrow from his quiver. Running he set the shaft to string and turned, back-peddling even as the Awesome Android hunkered down and shifted to follow, starting to turn towards him. He raised his bow and let fly; the simplest arrow in his arsenal; a shaft with a blunt, rubber head.

It struck the Awesome Android squarely in the back, just below the neck at a specific pressure point.

Hawkeye watched breathing a sigh of relief as the monstrosity shuddered, then collapsed into a big gray heap sprawling on the grass of Maria Stark’s commemorative park. It sputtered a bit, then finally lay still. In the blink of an eye he drew and fired his EMP arrow and the remaining Little Green Men collapsed as well. The Mad Thinker turned his way, a harsh, frowning scowl twisting his features as Hawkeye drew another shaft, aiming…

“Been about ten seconds I think, and look at me. I’m still standin’.” Hawkeye laughed and loosed his arrow. Steel bands exploded from the fat head, erupting in a wild flurry on contact to the Mad Thinker’s chest and wrapping about his body tightly.

“Elton John, eat yer heart out.”

Avengers Island
Midnight…

“At least he did fix my arm,” the Vision said as he, along with the other assembled Avengers watched as the Vault Transport rose from the landing pad flanked by to flying Guardsmen. He flexed his fingers, resisting the urge to desolidify again, just to be sure.

The Mad Thinker rode in the transport under heavy guard, his Awesome Android with him, still thankfully inert and deactivated thanks to Hawkeye. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., whom Stark had called in for clean up and removal were gathering his ‘little green men’ and transporting them to a ship at the docks. Reed Richards had discovered the way to shut them down permanently and had relayed the process to the removal team. There were dozens littering the grounds of the island that were potentially still a threat; those that had fallen to Storm’s initial static assault and later Hawkeye’s EMP arrow, but hopefully all would be accounted for by morning.

“I just can’t believe we were attacked in our home again,” Tony Stark said, and the Vision could hear the dismay in the man’s voice. He had stripped off the damaged armor and was wearing a gray sweat suit sporting the MIT logo. “First the Wrecking Crew, and now the Mad Thinker. This is getting embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Shellhead,” Hawkeye said between sips of coffee. “Least not until the Ani-Men attack.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Stark said, trying not to smirk. “Seriously. I need to rethink the island’s defenses. I’ll call the mayor and see about setting up a perimeter field in the harbor, and definitely something under water as well. I have some ideas…”

The Vision’s attention shifted through the group as Stark’s words trailed off. Richards, Pym and Hammond had returned to the science labs, as Mister Fantastic had wanted to investigate the levels of unstable molecules incorporated into the original Human Torch’s android form.

He saw Nightcrawler, Storm and Captain America not so far away. Storm was still watching the Vault transport as it soared north, upstate and dwindling in the distance, just another flitting dot of light amidst the Manhattan skyline. Kurt Wagner and Josiah X seemed to be debating theology, caught up in conversation.

The Vision looked next to Melissa Gold. Songbird was standing near water’s edge and staring longingly at the city across the bay. She had changed from her armor and was dressed in denim pants and a USC hooded sweatshirt. He noted and logged the look of sadness on her face and approached.

“You seem disappointed,” he said, his golden cloak rippling about him as a breeze wafted off of the lapping waters.

“Disappointed? Hah! That’s putting it mildly.” She glanced at him, forcing a smile. “My big Avengers debut and I got taken out in a second after I arrive. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stark dumped me like a hot potato.”

“Tony Stark is both intelligent and wise, and Hawkeye praises your abilities as well as your determination. The Mad Thinker’s Android is often underestimated in its abilities, and I will point out that he beat us all, save Hawkeye. Do not dismiss your potential to be a beneficial part of this team based on one mishap. Tony Stark would not have admitted you had he thought you lacking.”

The woman smiled and the Vision seemed to falter a moment, remembering how another woman smiled and the way that it affected his circuitry.

“You think?” she asked, looking up at him with deep, blue eyes sparkling. “I suppose you’re right,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Still, I had hoped to do better. This is the big leagues, y’know? A far cry from when I was Screaming Mimi of the Grapplers. Clint’s counting on me to do right. And I want to.”

“You will do fine, I am certain.”

The Vision’s eyes widened, the beads of light flaring as the woman, Melissa Gold went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks,” she said with a wide smile. He sensed elation in her now, and a stirring in his own internal circuitry; happy that she was mollified. He watched as she walked away, hands stuffed into the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt. He saw Hawkeye looking at him with a wide grin. The Avenging Archer gave him a ‘thumb’s up’ sign.

“Go, Vizh,” he said, and if it were possible the Vision thought that his already crimson face would have deepened several shades.

Manhattan, New York
428 Prince Street
The Bowery

Mark Milton sat in his SRO, lights off and drinking a beer. Budweiser; not his favorite or even in his top ten but all that he could afford these days. He belched, staring at the tiny black and white TV screen, the grainy picture showing the events happening on Avengers Island.

“Bastards,” he whispered, downing the backwash in the can and crumpling the empty in his fist before tossing it away to clatter over the almost dozen already littering the threadbare carpet. He watched as a ship rose and spun, then shot off towards the north in a glare of light that illuminated the room. He reached for his cigarettes, the crumpled pack lying on the battered table that sat beside his favorite chair.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Milton tensed at the voice, cigarette dangling from dry lips. He glanced to the side and saw her…

He had heard of the new Doctor Spectrum. A woman, though he had never met her. But here she was in his litter box of a room, that stupid four-color costume hugging her curves in all the right places, the Power Prism imbedded in her palm and radiating majesty. He watched as she strolled forward, her gaze settling on the scene on the television.

“What do you want?” he finally asked, trying not to stare at her tight ass in the spandex costume.

“I’m putting the band back together, Mark,” she said thumbing the television off. Red neon from the sign for the Chinese take-out joint on the ground floor poured through the window blinds throwing the room in an eerie glow. “And I want you.”

“There is no band,” Milton said as he stood and wobbled on shaky legs to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed another brew. Two left. Offer her one? Fuck that. He popped the top with his thumb to a ‘SHUSH’ of escaping gas. “Richmond,” he said flopping back in his over-stuffed easy chair, “if he’s not dead this week is playin’ with the Defenders probably. And Sanders is livin’ large with Hydra.” He took a long drink from his can and slammed it to the table, ignoring the foam that bubbled forth as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“There are others,” Doctor Spectrum said perching atop the TV and crossing her long legs. “I can gather a group to make you proud and redeem yourself, if you will just join me. These Avengers are weak, and I have a plan.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Mark Milton guzzled more beer, ignoring that it ran down his grizzled cheeks. He stared at the woman poised atop his television and considered. He smirked.

“Okay, babe. Let’s hear your spiel,” he said settling into his chair. This ought’a be good, he thought, but as the woman pled her case he actually found that he was listening and thinking of Hyperion…

Another Dimension…

“Why me?” Jacob Fury said as he stared at the golden key that floated before him. Tears welled in his eyes as he squatted down in seeming exhaustion.

“I was happy,” he said. “There were others. Bother one of them, La Point or my nephew. Just leave me alone.”

Despite your defeats, our associations in the past have been both profitable and lucrative, a voice echoed over the cold gray landscape. Jacob Fury shivered as he glanced out over his own personal corner of hell.

And we are linked, Fury, the voice continued, inexorably and unfortunately. I rue the day you first found me years past. But you are best attuned to my energies and desires.

“Yeah, we all got our cross to bear, don’t we?” he said as he stood. He seemed to consider a moment as he reached forward, his fingers trembling as they neared the floating, three-pronged golden key, Electricity flickered and flared between his fingertips and the cold metal making his skin crawl and tingle. Jacob Fury sighed.

“All right…” he finally said his voice half way between resignation and elation. “Ya got me.”

And the Zodiac Key seemed to shimmer in brilliance even as it faded away…

NEXT: The Squadron Sinister Strikes!