Fourth Avenue at Baltic Street
Brooklyn, NY

The woman dressed in full, black leather eased the modified Harley Scorpion up onto the sidewalk and rolled it to a stop. The engine churned between her legs, the barely contained power threatening to run away at her barest touch, her slightest command. She revved the engine once more, her gaze drifting to the dark confines of the open garage then sighed as the only response she got came rather from the pedestrians passing along the street. With some regret she killed the motor, grimacing as the machine jerked and coughed before finally sputtering into a hissing silence. Oddly, it was almost embarrassing.

She slammed the kickstand into place and easing the motorcycle to an angle swung her long leg over the seat. Playing her part, just in case, she circled the bike with glum interest occasionally checking a wire or bolt, her leather-gloved hand caressing the still hot chrome of the exhaust system with no apparent discomfort. Finally, showing the slightest disgust and helplessness she seemed to sag, putting fists to hips as she stared at the cooling machine, waiting…

Waiting…

Despite the early hour it was already getting hot. The sun was huge and glaring as it climbed ever skyward, blazing through the thick layer of brown haze most evident along the horizon. The asphalt of the wide avenue already seemed to broil, not even cooled from the day before, and a pall seemed to hang over the street, the very city. The woman watched as the denizens trudged along most making their way for the stifling and even-more depressing tunnels, there to catch the underground trains in the cloistered heat with the clogging masses.

The woman sneered in disgust at the thought as she undid the chinstrap of her helmet and pulled it from her head hanging it on the handlebars and shaking out her long dark hair. She could not imagine being crowded into the filth and offal of the tunnels with the chattel, and then to willingly do it over and over, every day for her entire lifespan. She shivered, running her fingers through her hair, frowning at the sweat and grease she had gathered despite her training. She had learned to cope with adverse conditions, but all knew that Earth was one of the vilest cesspools in the universe despite the planet’s alleged potential.

The foul air was choking and she had almost gagged as soon as she disconnected the re-breather in her helmet. The garbage-strewn streets seemed to radiate offence, and the heat magnified by the smog simply made it all the worse. The tightly packed buildings were not so different than where she had been raised- smaller even- but the complex she remembered had been almost pristine, the walls proofed against her neighbor’s privacy, the windows shielded against arrant intrusion. She wondered just how these backwater primates could live like this- and actually think they were in some form of luxury.

“Hssst…”

Kari blinked realizing that she had been lost in thought–day dreaming the Earthers called it. She glanced about and saw that she had drawn the attention of a small group of passing youths, the oldest barely a score of solar years at best. They were locals apparently, dressed in the current cumbersome fashion of over-sized clothes denoting their allegiance to some gang called ‘Fubu’. They were grinning, the three of them and eyeing her lustfully–

“Looking fine, Mommy,” the eldest said as he brought the group to a halt before her. Had she ignored them they probably would have passed by without incident, but she had made the mistake of acknowledging their presence by making eye contact. Now she had to deal with them.

“Nice bike, Chica,” another said eyeing her Harley. “Big ride. You like a big ride?” The boy smirked, his hand rubbing over his crotch and his friends broke up laughing at that. Though Kari did not ‘get’ the joke she understood the allusion and had to smirk. Male youths at the coming of age were the same more or less on any world.

“You have a ‘big ride’ for me, child?” she asked coyly stepping forward right up to the boy. She smiled as his eyes grew wide and his comrades sniggered, making odd noises over her insult to their companion. Nothing worse than calling a male youth a child when he considers himself a man. She saw him tense quickly, rolling his shoulders as he stood a bit straighter, ready to show his masculinity-

“Got what’chu need right here, bit-“

Kari’s hand shot out almost too quickly to follow, her fist grabbing hold between the boy’s legs. Her smile grew to see the boy’s eyes grow wide again, a quick wave of fear washing over his face. A true warrior would protect his most vulnerable areas, but there were few real warriors on Earth.

“Right here?” she asked pleasantly, squeezing with the slightest fraction of her strength. Still it was enough and she heard the child whimper, tears already welling in his eyes as he sagged and staggered, started to sink to his knees. She held him in place.

“Leggo, lady…” the boy whined, but she simply smiled wider and cast a glance at his companions. They were frozen in shock for the moment, but she knew it would not last long. She imagined that the elder would step up to help his friend while the smaller would run by the fear in his eyes. Looking back at the paling youth in her grip, Kari mused that she would probably be doing the women of this world a justice if she simply squeezed and pulled. Pleasing as that would be however it would surely jeopardize her mission-

“There a problem here?”

And the moment passed out of her hands. Kari turned to the sound of the voice and saw the object of her mission walking from the dark recesses of the small mechanic’s garage. He was dressed in dirty coveralls, his skin stained with grease and soot, his blonde hair a wild mess but he was easily identifiable and almost handsome in a primitive sort of way. The give-away however was the bright red shirt just evident beneath his work dress, the golden ‘4’ emblazoned boldly on his chest. It was Johnny Storm, the Human Torch…

Kari smiled a dazzling smile, flinging her hair as she glanced back at the member of the accursed Fantastic Four. He smiled back as he strode forward wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag.

“No problem,” she said turning back to the boy in her grip. “These young men were simply offering to help me.” Kari grinned at the boy and gave him a final squeeze before shoving him away to his friends. Her victim cupped his hands protectively between his legs, incapacitated for the moment. His friends however stepped forward with obvious anger and embarrassment to be so humbled before a mere woman. Kari took a step back ready to defend herself but the Torch was suddenly at her side–

“Thanks, fellas, but I got this,” he said calmly continuing to wipe his hands. “I am a mechanic after all.” He gestured behind him, “and this is a garage.”

“Fuck you, white boy!” the elder youth said curling a fist, spittle flying as he cursed. “This bitch gonna–”

Fire erupted in the Torch’s hands as the rag he had been wiping on suddenly burst into flame and disintegrated. Kari saw the Torch smile as the young men paled and muttering, one by one turned and ran. They did not look back.

Johnny Storm let the fire in his hands dim and die away as he turned back to Kari. She saw almost sadness in his eyes as he sighed then watched as his face lit up as he looked her up and down. Quickly she fell into the role she had been practicing all these weeks, showing a mask of shock-

“You–you’re the Human Torch,” she squeaked mocking astonishment. The Torch smirked and nodded.

“Guilty,” he said taking her in a final time before shifting his gaze to her motorcycle. “You okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes and she nodded playing the fool.

“Yes… Yeah,” she corrected, “I’m fine. They were more talk than anything.”

“They usually are at that age, but you never know just how far they’ll push it. Kids today aren’t like we were growing up. No respect,” he said as he approached her bike and ran a hand lovingly over the detail. “Nice…” he said squatting down to get a closer look at the engine. “Having problems?”

“Yeah,” Kari said stepping up beside him, just in his peripheral vision. She saw him quickly glance at her legs and could almost smell his growing interest. “It’s running rough but I’ve got no tools to check it out.”

“Start her up,” Johnny Storm said, standing up and back. She could feel his gaze on her as he watched her mount the bike and kick it to life. She revved the engine, frowning as it started to jerk and sputter- as expected. She turned to look at the Torch, trying her best to look both alluring and helpless. She saw Storm smile-

“Sounds like your timing’s off,” he yelled crouching down again beside her and the bike. He pulled a wrench from his back pocket and gently pressed a hand to her calve, easing her leg aside. “This’ll just take a second.”

Kari watched as with a few quick twists he eased the engine back into rhythm. She knew what the problem was of course. She had adjusted the timing as she set out that morning, but she was oddly glad that the Torch had been able to fix it. Such a simple action, but it furthered her mission and made the Torch seem the hero- at least to himself. He had saved the poor damsel in distress. Kari revved the bike again at his instruction, then powered down, shutting it off. She smiled brightly at her ‘savior’.

“That sounds great,” she said truthfully. “How much do I owe you?”

The Torch smirked conceitedly as he ran a hand through his greasy hair, then strangely simply shrugged.

“Aw, no charge,” he said, then coyly added, “unless of course you care to buy me a cup of coffee? I’m about due for a break.”

“Seems the least I could do, kind sir,” Kari grinned.

“Cool. Bring your bike up into the garage and I’ll lock up. There’s a coffee shop up on Fifth. Duke’s at the bank, but he should be back before long. I’ll leave him a note.”

Kari nodded, making small talk as together they walked her motorcycle up into the tiny garage then locked up. All was going well despite the rough start. The Torch was obviously intrigued if not yet smitten. She had chosen her disguise well based on his past preferences, and now it was only a matter of time…

FIRE IN THE HOLE

By Curtis Fernlund

42nd Street and Madison Avenue, Manhattan
The Baxter Building

Susan Richards sighed as she leaned back in her chair. Her head was pounding, aching from the strain of her eyes after hours of squinting at the tiny type of the undiminishing sheaf of legal documents strewn across her desk. Her back was starting to hurt as well from leaning over the paperwork and her wrist was feeling the stress of typing and working the mouse of her computer. The little aches and pains had never seemed to bother her so much in the past, but then too she had never quite put in the long grueling hours before either. She wondered how regular businessmen and women, secretaries did it day in and out through the course of their lives.

Maybe she was just getting old…

Odds were however that it was not the years but the mileage. The never-ending battles ranging from one end of the universe to the other, the world threatening crises, the non-stop villains that came one after another, all bearing grudges or simply to make a name for themselves by defeating the World’s Greatest Fighting Team all inevitably had to take a toll. Couple that with the not-so-simple task of keeping the team- the family together, keeping the company above water and at least in the pink, and the 24-7 task of raising two children…

Susan sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, wishing her headache away. She scooped up her mug of tepid coffee and leaned back even further, propping her legs on the edge of the desk and crossing her ankles. Wishing would not help, she knew, but a break would certainly not be out of the question. What she really need was help.

Susan took a sip from her mug, wrinkling her nose with a grimace. The coffee was bitter and cool and basically useless. Glancing across the room she spied the coffee cart and concentrated. With thankfully the slightest effort and a well-placed invisible force field expanding between the cart and the wall, the small cart slowly rattled across the floor in her direction. She let it stop within reach beside the desk and let the field fall away, smiling as she picked up the pot from its hotplate. Not quite Marvel Girl of the X-Men, but the end result was the same. Even better when Susan spotted the misplaced bottle of aspirin behind the sugar bowl on the cart. Things were looking up already.

If only all of her problems could be solved so easily.

There was simply no way as yet to get Fantastic Four Inc. back on its financial feet. The outstanding loans owed to both Stark Industries as well as the United States government would keep them floundering and well into debt for years if they could not find a better, newer source of income. Granted, Anthony Stark had given them an incredibly low APR, but the government’s 19.99% more than made up for Stark’s good intentions. In the end they might have gotten a better deal by maxxing their credit cards.

Then of course there were the lawsuits. It seemed a new subpoena arrived almost every day as more and more survivors and family members of the Baxter Building tragedy came forward. So many people had died- both in Manhattan and in space- when Noah Baxter had tried and failed to rematerialize the newest version of the Fantastic Four’s old headquarters into the midst of New York City. There had been some unforeseen problem, some kind of feedback that had caused the transporter to malfunction and Reed had theorized that the building had materialized slightly off its intended mark. The structure had of course collapsed, but not before a series of massive explosions caused by two opposing sets of molecules trying to occupy the same space at the same time. The explosions had killed dozens, injuring god knows how many, and the subsequent collapse had doubled that still unknown number. Add to that the deaths of Noah Baxter and his crew when the feedback obliterated the Alexandria Space Station…

They were labeling it the worst disaster in NYC history since the mutant; Black Tom Cassidy exploded the upper floors of the World Trade Center a few years earlier. Having no one else to blame, the Fantastic Four of course became the city’s scapegoats, and the target of everyone with the slightest intention of submitting a lawsuit however remotely related. Luckily Stark and SHIELD were taking the brunt of the legalities under their own legal departments, a blessing in disguise indeed. And part of the overall deal.

And Reed of course was no help. The very night after they had defeated Hydro-Man uptown he had locked himself in his lab, the one makeshift laboratory that he had cobbled together since they had moved into the skeletal, half-built frame of the new Baxter Building. His means were limited, but of course Reed Richards was the ‘MacGuyver’ of the Superhero Set. Reed Richards could build an atomic generator with a paper clip and a handful of rubber bands. He could simply look at a machine and in the blink of an eye understand how it worked and improve on that. They did not call him Mister Fantastic for nothing. Unfortunately, oddly, he just could not balance a checkbook.

Susan Richards poured herself another cup of coffee and settled back in her chair, trying to relax, taking a break. Her throbbing head had dulled to a slightly less pounding thanks to the aspirin, but her eyes still hurt and she could feel the muscles in her arms and fingers trying to cramp. She needed sleep she knew, just a quick nap would help, but it was the middle of the day and there was just so much to do…

“Mom?”

Susan Richards jerked awake, almost tipping over backward in her chair at the sound of her son’s voice. Almost frantically she looked about, her eyes bleary wide and blinking until she saw Franklin standing in the doorway of the half-finished room that she was using as an office for the duration. Her son’s golden hair was tousled and in disarray, his clothes dirty and she spotted a small tear in the knee of his jeans. Her eyes focused on his worried face however and instantly she came alert and awake.

“Franklin,” she said, easing her feet back to the floor as he ran into the room. “What is it? What’s happened?” Susan saw the fear in her son’s big blue eyes as he ran closer and she immediately stood and glanced about suspiciously, wondering who of their many foes were attacking this time. Franklin ran right up and hugged her about the legs-

“It’s Vali, Mom,” he said looking up as she placed a hand in his hair, trying to smooth it down. “She’s crying-“

“Babies cry, Sweetie,” Sue countered though instinctively she glanced up and towards the doorway. She heard nothing. “She must be hungry or cranky, or maybe needs changing.”

“I dunno, Mom. She was really upset. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Okay, honey,” Susan said as she turned slightly and hit the computer’s mouse. She must have fallen asleep as the monitor was in stand-by mode, but at her slightest touch there was a hum of power and the desktop faded into existence once again, a picture of her family in happier times enjoying a quiet Christmas. “Let’s see…”

Susan frowned as she adjusted the volume to full but did not hear a thing. Not only did she not hear her daughter, but the simple sounds of the computer’s activities were silent as well. She bent slightly, peering at the monitor as she swiftly ran the mouse back and forth over its pad. She cursed under her breath to see that the connections for the speaker wires were dangling freely from the back of the monitor. She must have knocked them loose when she had moved the coffee cart she surmised as she reached back and plugged them back into their proper sockets. She stood straight again, but still heard nothing-

“Maybe she fell asleep?” Franklin offered, staring at the computer screen.

“Maybe,” Susan said, glancing to the doorway again. It was probably nothing, but she had to check or she would never finish her work. “Let’s go see.”

Sue took her son’s hand and led him from the room and out in the hallway. She glanced about at the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, the unpaneled walls and half-tiled floor. Hardly a place to raise a child, though Franklin did not seem to mind. She saw his toys scattered about the floor all the way down the hall and had to smile even as she listened for any sign of little Valeria’s crying coming from the room next door. She still heard nothing.

The room was dim when they entered, a small Spider-Man nightlight glowing softly in the corner. The window was cracked slightly to let in some air even though the room was cool despite the rising heat and humidity outside. A mobile of ‘4’s dangled over the crib situated against the far wall, still in the quiet room. The baby monitor’s light glowed slightly to show that it was still working perfectly. Valeria appeared to be asleep, a quiet bundle in the confines of her crib. Still…

Susan stepped up to the crib’s side and peered over the rails. Little Valeria seemed fine, fast asleep on her belly, her wisps of red hair wild about her head. Susan smiled, staring at her child- the baby that Franklin had sparked to life with his latent mutant powers. A gift of love, the baby that she and reed had lost years before in miscarriage miraculously brought back to life. She was the most beautiful thing that Susan had ever seen-

“She’s not crying now,” Franklin said, peeking through the bars of the crib at his little sister.

“No, Sweetie,” Susan said, her hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “Maybe she just had a bad dream or some…”

Susan Richards stared at her daughter. She was asleep, surely, lying on her stomach, content and beautiful, lost in her dreams…

She was not moving at all. She- she was not breathing…

“Val?” Susan said, then louder, “Baby?”

She was not breathing-

The baby wasn’t breathing!

Susan Richards scooped up her daughter in one fluid movement and cradled the baby in her arms. She shook her slightly, bouncing the baby in her arms, cooing and calling her name-

“Val,” she said, louder, “Val!”

Susan could hear the blood rushing through her own veins, her heart pounding in her ears. She could see Franklin talking, asking questions with wide, frightened eyes but she could not hear his voice. The room was growing hot, dark…

She ran to the changing table and set her baby down. Valeria’s head lolled to the side as though she were dead. She was not moving. She was not breathing. Her skin was flushed, her lips tinged blue-

“No…”

Susan concentrated, focusing her attention on the baby. She weaved a tight force field, as thin and soft as she might manage as she put a finger to Valeria’s tiny lips and parted them. She looked into the baby’s mouth, then willed the field down Valeria’s thin throat, easing it in as gently as she could manage-

“Mommy?”

Franklin sounded terrified suddenly, grabbing at her arm. She did not need the distraction-

“Get Daddy, Franklin,” she said, trying not to snap, not to lose focus. “Hurry!”

She ignored her son as he ran out of the room in tears, focusing all of her attention on her daughter as she slid the probe down the baby’s throat looking for blockage. It seemed clear, she could feel nothing as she probed all the way into the lungs. One word echoed over and over in her mind–

SIDS… SIDS…

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome! Children died for no apparent reason. Babies simply stopped breathing, choking on phlegm or something that they had spit up but not spat out. They were tiny and helpless. They needed constant supervision. Sue had thought that she had done right, that she had been attent, caring, but…

Susan Richards leaned over and grasped the baby’s nose, pinching it closed as she laid her lips over Valeria’s. She tilted the baby’s head back slightly and breathed a shallow breath, watching from the corner of her eye as Val’s chest rose, then fell as she stood back. Again…

Again…

Sue pressed lightly, trying to remember her CPR training as she eased pressure onto the baby’s chest, trying to force her heart to start beating again. She leaned in close and breathed into her mouth again, taking care. Not too hard-

Nothing…

“C’mon, baby,” she said pressing on Valeria’s chest again. “Please, God…”

Tears were rising, welling in her eyes as she pressed on Valeria’s chest, counting–One, two, three, four–

COUGH!

Valeria coughed, her body spasming as she suddenly gasped for breath. Something bubbled from her mouth and Sue wiped it away, her hand on the baby’s heart as she leaned in close. Valeria’s breathing was ragged and strained, but she was breathing, moving. Before long she was crying…

Susan Richards was crying too as she gathered her daughter up in her arms and hugged her with all the strength and love that she could muster. Valeria hacked and coughed, spitting something gray onto Sue’s blouse, but the Invisible Woman did not care in the slightest. Valeria was alive- alive!

Valeria was alive…

Susan Richards dropped to her knees, her daughter in her arms held as tightly as she could safely manage. She could not imagine what her life might have been if she lost her daughter for a third time.

Quietly she hung her head and let the tears spill forth…

Gorilla
5th Avenue and Park Place
Brooklyn, NY

The café was packed. Inside already at eleven in the morning the air conditioning was blowing full blast, and thus, every seat in the little shop was filled as the people in the neighborhood were trying to beat the heat.

Johnny Storm and Kari took their coffee and squeezed onto one of the benches lining the avenue outside the cramped and popular coffee shop. There were dozens of people inside soaking up the cool air in the café, and likewise outside they were milling about. Park Slope had been on the rise for some time now- at least according to Johnny Storm’s landlord, and looking about as he stretched his legs out, sitting on the bench he could see it.

He had always thought of Brooklyn as being a run-down, hardcore Borough, just barely a step above the Bronx. And down on Fourth Avenue where Duke had his garage that was fairly true, but up here just a block away Johnny could see the drastic improvement. There were renovations going on in every direction, not only the buildings but also the actual street itself. The shops that would normally be smoke shops and dollar stores were swiftly becoming small restaurants and specialty shops to cater to the wealthier crowd that was taking over the area. Even the Key Food supermarket right across the street from where they sat was selling imported foods and beers, organics, and specially cut meats and produce. It was incredible. Gentrification they called it. One avenue up where Johnny now lived was an almost deathly quiet residential neighborhood lined with more cafes and beer gardens, and another beyond that was a shopping street that was like a miniature version of Greenwich Village. And they said the Heights was even better.

Johnny leaned back, sipping at his coffee as he glanced at the woman at his side, enjoying the break and the company. She was gorgeous with her long raven black hair and smooth, tanned skin. She did not seem bothered by the heat or humidity like the rest of the people sitting at the benches who were dressed in shorts and sandals, tank tops and sports bras while she was head to toe in black leather. The heat did not bother the Human Torch of course, nor did the steaming coffee, and the woman, Kari, seemed to take it all in stride as well taking a long sip from her paper cup.

“So, where are you from,” he finally asked. “Not from New York. You have a strange accent.”

“Oregon,” she said with a quick smile, pulling her hair behind her ears as she looked him over- giving him the eye? He was not certain.

“I’ve been there. It’s beautiful. We were scouting a movie I was supposed to be in. What made you leave that to come to the big city?”

“It’s beautiful, but boring,” she said crossing her legs, swinging her foot. “I moved out here with some friends a few years ago, but they’ve all moved on. I’m the last one left.”

“Sorry,” he said, not really meaning it. He was glad she had stayed. She was hot. “So you live in Brooklyn?”

She smiled, dazzling. “Yeah, out near Coney Island; Brighton Beach-“

“Cool…”

“Yes,” she grinned, “cooler by the water.”

Johnny stared at her a moment, not quite certain if she was joking or not, then started to chuckle. The woman blushed, her eyebrow going up slightly in confusion. “I don’t-“

Johnny glanced up as a shadow swiftly passed overhead blotting out the morning sun momentarily. A second later he felt the familiar static discharge of anti-gravity pressers, heard the thrum of power compressors and felt the rush of air that followed the passing of a low-flying craft. He knew the sensations well enough; most accompanied the back draft of the various Fantasti-Cars as well as the old Pogo Plane. He leaped to his feet, stepping out onto the avenue and shielding his eyes as he scanned the skies towards Manhattan. He did not have to look far.

He immediately recognized the configuration of the craft, the sleek design that mimicked the Avengers’ Quinjets to a point as well as the Fantastic Four’s own short-range stellar ships. He noted the long fins on the sides and the overdone propulsion system hanging out the rear of the craft, the gravimetric pulse oscillators dotting the undercarriage. It was a Kree Scout Ship, designed to hold maybe six crew in a pinch but a huge battery of equipment. What they were doing skimming the streets of Brooklyn however was anyone’s guess. He supposed he would have to find out-

“Hala…”

Johnny turned and saw Kari watching the receding craft at his side. He raised an eyebrow quizzically; did he hear her right? She looked at him, meeting his gaze-

“Holee…” she said, the slightest blush to her cheeks, then, “Is that the Avengers?”

“I wish,” Johnny said, apparently hearing her wrong. “It’s the Kree!”

“I remember them,” she said, nodding. “Fought those green Skrull guys a few years back.”

“Yeah, listen,” Johnny said, digging into his pockets for his Cell Phone. He was about to suggest her calling the police, but as he looked about the street he saw that everyone had a phone to their ear, no doubt calling in the sighting. 9-11 would be inundated with calls, probably overloading the system. He handed his phone to Kari instead-

“I need you to call my teammates; number four on the Phone Book. You’ll probably get the answering service, but leave a message; Priority K-9 and an explanation. I need to check this out.” Kari took the phone and immediately started thumbing through his personal numbers. There was a moment’s hesitation as Johnny Storm considered the wisdom of giving the woman- that he had only met an hour ago- his cellular, then shrugged, watching as the Kree ship started a wide banking turn starting back-

“Flame on!”

Kari watched as Johnny Storm erupted in a ball of flame and took to the sky, flying towards the Kree Scout Ship that was making another run over the avenue. She recognized the ship’s markings of course and had to wonder just what mission one of the Accusers might be on to so blatantly invade Earth airspace in broad day light. It had to be important she suspected, and somewhat secretive she imagined.

She glanced at Storm’s archaic cellular communication device and sneered. It was compact, but to actually still use a satellite network for communications was just so backward. Still, the fool probably had important information stored in the tiny internal memory chip. She would find out soon enough what codes and sequences she might glean, addresses and numbers of supporters, comrades and friends. She would take the device apart tonight, in the privacy of her base, learn all of the Torch’s secrets and return the cellular on the morrow. It would give her a reason to visit him again and get even deeper into his trust.

She slipped the cellular into the pocket of her jacket and started to move to her bike, only then softly cursing under her breath. Her motorcycle was locked in the garage where the Torch now worked. It would be some time before she might get it back- unless of course Storm’s employer had returned.

Kari glanced skyward as a ball of fire erupted in the distance followed by an all too familiar flash of energy. She sighed and started back towards the garage, hoping that the Human Torch would survive his encounter with the Accusers so that she might be able to finish her own mission.

If he did not of course, there was always Grimm…

Governor’s Island
New York Harbor

The Kree ship had soared higher as the Human Torch had started throwing fireballs trying to herd it away from Brooklyn and out over the bay. It had returned fire of course, thinking him a threat and attacking, but Johnny Storm easily evaded their Plasma Cannons, throwing up walls of fire to absorb those blasts that might strike the errant building or arch down into the city miles away. He had been doing this for sometime now- years running buffer, blocking for his team. He knew the drill.

Whether it was his efforts or the ship’s design he did not know or care, but the ship finally veered out over the harbor, taking position over Governor’s Island as twin probes slid from the undercarriage of the craft. They were searching for something apparently- what he had no idea and less interest in. Bottom line, they had to go.

Johnny Storm swooped up, hovering himself as he watched the craft tilt and shimmy, locking into position. The probes were flashing, searching for something with flashing, pulsing lights and a slight hum. A moment later a door slid back in the side of the ship, a huge, hulking figure stepping into view. Johnny recognized the armor if not the man; full plate with a uniquely sloping helmet and bands of alien metal wrapped about arms and legs. Only the lower half of his face showed, a pale blue marking his origins, and he held the staff, the hammer of power that denoted his rank of Kree Accuser. He held his hammer out and high, staring at the Torch as Johnny drifted closer to hear-

“Stand down, human,” the blue-faced man shouted over the roar of the pulsars. “This is nothing to concern your like, rather a mission for the Supremor! Let us about our business! Do not interfere!”

“Sorry, pal,” Johnny Storm said as he drifted close enough to be heard. “You come flying into my hometown, you gotta figure I’m gonna be interested. What are you doing here?”

“That is no concern of yours, pink skin,” the Accuser said and Johnny saw the energy building in his staff. “Leave us now or suffer the consequences!”

“You’re not welcome here, Jack,” Johnny scoffed, letting the fire build in his hands. “I figure the FF and the Avengers and X-Men got that point across before, but I guess you missed the memo. Earth’s off limits to you space freaks; Kree, Skrull, Shiar, it don’t matter. Now take your over-sized SUV and hike on back to the Supreme Intelligence before I get Biblical on your ass!”

“I do not understand the words, stripling,” the Kree man said, “but I do know the intent. Know then that you face Jard-al the Accuser, and I find you wanting!”

Energy flared from the Accuser’s hammer and an arching beam of blue lightning flashed through the area that Johnny had just been hovering in. even over the burning stench of his own flames the Torch could smell the scent of fried ozone and the hairs on the back of his neck were dancing from the discharge. He spun, spiraling higher and throwing balls of fire at the craft. They were meant to distract rather than damage as he knew that he would have to raise the temperature of his flames intensely to cause any real damage to the ship or its crew. Still, his efforts sent the Accuser- Jard-al- ducking back into the craft, and the ship itself wavered at the sudden influx of thermal updraft generated by his assault. Johnny shot forward, fires blazing…

The Torch flew up and over the ship alternating between raining fireballs and blasting with intense beams of flame. He had little doubt that his attacks were doing little against the alien craft, though if he remembered the design correctly it was built more for stealth and speed than for defense. Still, the heat he would probably need to generate to actually do any real damage to the ship would be bordering on the white-hot intensity of his nova flame. Unfortunately he was far to close to the city to unleash that kind of fury. His best bet was to keep up his assault and hope to force the space ship to earth and then the occupants out.

Dodging the ship’s guns, plasma bursts of crackling energy lacing the sky, the Torch wove his way in closer. He had to wonder what they were about, so blatantly flying into New York in broad daylight, no stealth at all. Whatever mission they were on for the Kree Empire was either so important that they could not worry about the consequences, or of course, they were just so arrogant that they did not care. Remembering his past run-ins with the Kree; Ronan the Accuser, the Sentry Sinister, even Captain Marvel, Johnny opted for the latter.

The ship was heading down however, despite the actions of the crew to drive the Torch away. Flying in closer, strafing the craft with blazing bolts of fire Johnny tried to herd the ship towards the docking bay alongside the National Guard station on Governor’s Island where there were less people. A few well-placed fireballs into the ship’s propulsion exhaust ports got the craft rocking slightly, and he saw the probe rods jutting from the undercarriage start to glow a sickly green. Hopefully he had done some damage.

Kicking in his speed the Torch arched out in a wide circle, yelling at the few people gathering to back off, to give the ship room to land. Flaring the fiery field that surrounded his body as he passed got most of the slower moving gawkers running, but by the time that the area was clear and he was circling back he saw that the scout ship had landed, the crew already piling out of the hatch following the Accuser. Johnny saw Jard-al raise his hammer-

Energy exploded from the staff of the Accuser, a devastating swath that the Torch barely avoided climbing higher and faster. He heard the screams of the gathering crowd though and realized quickly that he had to get out and away from the island, out over the harbor. Johnny knew that he could place his shots with pinpoint accuracy, but if Jard-al could do the same, the Torch imagined that he probably did not care. Worse, the Accuser would probably use the crowd’s danger as a distraction, keeping Johnny occupied with saving lives while his men did whatever they were on Earth to do-

And what was that exactly?

The Human Torch soared higher avoiding the Accuser’s bolts as he arched out over the calm waters of New York Harbor. He saw two men in armor now at Jard-al’s side, a colonel in blue and white, and a captain in green if he remembered correctly. They joined the Accuser in his attack while three others of lesser rank were setting up some small device just beside the ship’s hatch. The simple solution would be to destroy the machine, but the Kree were a warrior race and Johnny knew zealots as well. They thought nothing of giving their lives for the greater glory of battle and would not hesitate to take the Torch and Manhattan with them- if that device was a bomb. Reed would know at a glance what the oddly shaped device was, and know how to stop it, but Johnny was just not sure. He could not take the chance-

Bursts of energy exploded about the Torch, a latticework of laser beam and plasma bursts as Jard-al and his men coordinated their assault. Johnny dove, angling and weaving through the barrage but even the great speed of the Human Torch was not enough. An errant bolt of intense radiation drilled into his shoulder, actually making him cry out from the sudden pain. His concentration wavering, his fires diminished as the pain washed through him. Faltering, he started to fall towards the dark waters below…

A flash of blue and red and Johnny Storm felt powerful arms wrap about him. Suddenly he was no longer falling, snatched from a drowning just inches over the waves he was now flying sideways, landing a moment later on the docks in a smoldering heap. His shoulder was throbbing, and even through the flickering of his flames he could see the charred mark where he had been blasted by one of the Accuser’s plasma bolts. He whistled through clenched teeth as he struggled to sit up, staring wide-eyed at the man that had saved him. He should have known-

“Spider-Man!”

“Hello, Torch,” the man in the red and blue webbed costume said as he helped his old friend to his feet. Spider-Man and the Torch had started out their careers as super heroes at about the same time years before. Early on they had feuded almost playfully, each trying to outdo the other in a rivalry that had eventually grown into a fast friendship. In truth, outside of his own teammates, there was no one that the Torch would rather have at his back in a fight.

“I could be wrong, Torch,” Spider-Man mused, “but I don’t think taking a bath in the middle of a fire fight’s actually a good idea- especially for you. It’s not even Saturday night.”

“Wha- what are you doing here?” Johnny asked, still half-dazed from the energy blast. He rubbed at his face and eyes, trying to clear his head. There was something odd, but- He felt Spider-Man’s firm hand on his shoulder-

“Later for that, Storm,” Spider-Man said almost seeming to fly as he leaped up and over the Torch. “You better recover, because here comes the Kree Welcome Wagon!”

The Human Torch willed his body aflame again as he turned, watching as the web-slinger landed in the midst of the Accuser’s crew. The Torch blinked as he rose into the air once more, shaking his head still as he watched his friend stand his ground and slug it out with the Kree. Oddly he was not cracking wise or leaping about as he usually did, but simply standing in their midst and hammering blow after blow. Not that it mattered however, as Spider-Man’s strength seemed more than enough to send Jard-al’s minions flying into unconsciousness. In a matter of seconds the amazing arachnid was the only one standing save the Accuser himself. The Torch saw his cue of course and shot forward then.

“Give it up, Kree man!” the Torch shouted as he circled overhead. “You might have had me on the ropes for a minute, but thanks to Spidey I’m back. My teammates will be here soon enough too, Accuser. No way you can beat us all-“

“Done!”

All eyes turned as the three Kree who had been operating the device on the far side of the craft came running forward, a small glowing globe in the hands of the one in the lead. Johnny cursed, realizing that he had forgotten all about them in his dazed state after being shot. He realized too that whatever they had been doing, they had finished in their task-

“Back you fools!” Jard-al screamed at the approaching Kree soldiers. “Into the ship, swiftly!” He turned back to the two heroes before him, “I shall deal with these!”

“In your dreams, Kree!” Johnny watched as Spider-Man jumped forward, sailing at the Accuser. Jard-al focused angrily as Spider-Man almost seemed to fly at him, snarling as he raised his hammer, the fatal energies building. Johnny arched down, fireballs blazing in each hand ready to defend his friend when he saw a look of confusion appear on the Accuser’s face, his eyes snapping wide-

“You…” Jard-al whispered, his aim wavering as Spider-Man slammed full force into the armored warrior. Johnny winced to hear the force of the blow and marveled to see the Accuser flying back to slam into the hull of his ship with a resounding clang of metal. Johnny stared, watching as the Accuser staggered, watching too as Spider-Man scrambled back to his feet from where he had fallen.

Spider-Man never fell like that…

“Torch! Watch out!”

Johnny Storm blinked again, his mind shifting back to the battle just in time to see the Accuser feebly raising his staff again. He was almost out on his feet from that one blow, but still struggling to the end. You almost had to give him credit.

Almost!

The Torch opened up. With the interstellar craft at his back to absorb the brunt of his blasts Johnny did not have to hold back. He laid on the heat, letting his temperature rise to near white-hot intensity knowing from past experience that the battle armor of an Accuser could take his best. Still, the man inside the armor was battered and dazed, weak already, and the rising heat and the very force of the blasts made Jard-al stagger back. He slammed hard into the ship again, his hammer falling from his grip and into Spider-Man’s reach. The Accuser roared at the loss of his weapon, the symbol of his station in Kree authority and tried a final time to lurch forward. He staggered three steps against the raging inferno about him, then stumbled and dropped to his knees. Finally then he fell.

Johnny Storm sagged, letting his flames die to something less intense as he hovered closer. The Accuser was not moving, his armor radiating heat and glowing, crackling as it cooled. The Torch grinned and turned to his friend-

“Spider-Man?”

The web-slinger was no where to be seen, but the Torch heard a shout, screams and a struggle. He flew forward, arching about the nose of the ship just in time to see his friend slugging the final Kree in the jaw, dropping him almost comically in a heap with his two accomplices. The machine that they had cobbled together lay in a tangled mass of wire and rent metal smashed against the stronger hull of the scout ship. Johnny saw that Spider-Man held the tiny, glowing globe that the men had had before as he swooped in closer, landing.

“What is that?” he asked squinting into the glare and trying to see the strange thing that his ally was silently holding. “Is it a bomb?” There seemed to be shadows flitting about inside the globe and he leaned in, peering closer, trying to focus. Johnny’s eyes snapped wide-

“Jesus-“

Johnny Storm stared in confusion at the tiny, miniscule form trapped within the strange glowing orb. It seemed barely an inch high, and as Johnny looked on he first thought of Scott Lang, the Ant-Man. The colors were wrong however, and as he focused it all became clear and he remembered. The last he had seen of the little man trapped in the globe he had been locked in a life and death struggle with Devos the Devastator; the self-proclaimed intergalactic peace officer. The two of them were being sucked into the Microverse then, but that had been months ago and neither had been seen or heard from since- until now.

“Paibok!” Johnny gasped, watching as the tiny Skrull beat on the insides of his little prison. The ‘Power Skrull’ had been one of the Fantastic Four’s most deadly foes not so long before, actually kidnapping the team and taking them to the Skrull’s seat of power deep in the heart of the Andromeda Galaxy, there to stand trial for alleged crimes against the Skrull Empire. The Four had beaten Paibok and his allies then- barely- but it had taken the entire team’s best, and a betrayal by Devos to win out in the end.

“Free me, Torch!” Johnny heard the tiny voice of Paibok screeching at him. The Skrull looked frantic, insane almost and the Torch could easily imagine why remembering his own trips to the weird and awesome Microverse. He had to smile as he leaned in close, trying to hear what the little Skrull had to say-

“Witless dolt! Help me!” Paibok screamed, craning his neck between the Torch and Spider-Man still holding the orb. “All is not as it appears! This is not the arachnid!”

Johnny laughed, glancing up at his friend who seemed a bit ill at ease, simply shrugging, staring-

“Lyja!”

Johnny snapped his attention back on the shrunken Power Skrull, almost touching the glass as he leaned in closer, straining to hear.

“Yes, Lyja you fool! I know where your wife is, human! Help me and I will lead you to her. Get me away from this trai-“

The Torch looked up, his eyes crackling with a new anxiety. Paibok was once Lyja’s lover; his ex-wife’s lover. Lyja had been a Skrull spy sent to get close to the Thing, disguising herself as Alicia Masters to infiltrate the Fantastic Four. Ben had been gone at the time, left behind on the Beyonder’s patchwork world after the Secret Wars, so Lyja had shifted her attentions on the Torch instead. It had worked too well, and over time Lyja had fallen in love with Johnny Storm, and he with her- at least at first. But it had been a relationship built on lies, compounding lies that grew, spiraling out of control; the marriage, the baby, her very heritage. In the end Johnny had cast her aside, though she still remained with the Four as her own people had branded her a traitor. The last he had seen of Lyja was just before the battle with Onslaught, when the world’s heroes were transported for a time to Counter Earth. Johnny had meant to find Lyja again since they had all returned, but there always seemed to be more pressing problems, something occupying his time. If Paibok truly knew where she was though-

“Spider-Man! We have to free him! He knows where Lyja is…”

Johnny Storm looked to his friend but it was too late. It was the last thing he expected as his eyes focused on the red-gloved hand rocketing straight at his face. He heard the crunch of bone, sensed the flash of pain as the world went soft and rubbery around him. There was a brief sensation of flying as the light of day faded to black…

Epilogue

Kl’rt eased his concentration as he scanned the scene of the battle. The men of the Kree were still unconscious thanks mainly to his efforts and the slight aid of the Human Torch. Even the Accuser lay humbled at their combined strength. Too, the fool human Johnny Storm would be out for several Terran hours. The time for pretense and façade had passed.

The Super Skrull stretched for the heavens, almost happy to be free of the confining form of Spider-Man. The body of the gangly little human was tight and cramped to hold so long. Still, it had served its purpose and gotten him close to the witless Human Torch. Close enough to investigate the Kree Scout Ship and terminate their mission. Why the Supreme Intelligence would send an Accuser to retrieve Paibok from his shrunken exile however was a mystery- at least for the time being.

Kl’rt grinned as he peered at his tiny, shivering prisoner, chuckling as he tapped on the Orb of Containment. He could see Paibok’s terror and rightly so. The Power Skrull was branded a traitor to the Empire, as was the Super Skrull himself not so very long ago. There were those in the slowly reforming Skrull Empire that still did not fully trust their greatest warrior.

That of course would soon change. With the deliverance of the traitor, along with the war hammer of a captive Kree Accuser and his Scout Ship and crew, Kl’rt’s own long exile to the backwater cesspool of the universe would at long last be over. And the Torch as well? But no, for all his arrogance and witless faults the Human Torch and the Fantastic Four were worthy foes and he would not take advantage of the trickery he had used to fell Storm; this time. When next he met the Earth scum he would slay them as warriors and not through stealth. For now, Paibok would fit the fill. Kl’rt would finally be free of the Earth and ready to take his rightful place in the Empire once again.

The Skrull Empire’s greatest warrior was finally coming home…

Prologue

Benjamin J. Grimm eased off the gas pedal and slowed the rental car as he neared the turn off from the main southern interstate. He looked up at the road sign…

Sunshine City 20

Twenty miles to go.

Ben Grimm eased the car onto the off ramp and pointed it in the direction he needed to go. He sighed as the Saturn rumbled along, the less used route in worse shape than the more frequented highway he had just left. He eased back on the gas again, accommodating for the jostling, bumpy ride with a sigh, actually somewhat glad of the slight delay.

It had taken him two days to drive south from New York to Florida. He could have made the drive in a few hours he knew, people did it all the time. Hell, he could have flown but he was in no real hurry. And the long drive gave him time to think.

He had finally gone back to the Yancy Street Bar and gotten his jacket from his old friend Colly; the jacket and of course the letter stuffed into the pocket. Colly was no idiot, and knew that that was the more important. It had been his old childhood friend’s prompting that had actually convinced Ben Grimm to read the damnable thing, the letter from his ex girlfriend and lover; Alicia Masters.

They had broken up after the Skrulls had kidnapped her when Lyja had taken her place to infiltrate the team. Sure, the Fantastic Four had saved her in the end, but the fire had died between Ben and her after that- or maybe before. Alicia’s life had been hell associating with the Four. She had been kidnapped by more super-villains than been could remember, used as bait against him and the team more times than he could count. She had almost died at the hands of so many; the Skrulls, Doom, the Frightful Four, Annihilus-

That had been the worst, perhaps the seed that had sprouted to end it all…

But now she wanted to see him, inviting him to visit her in the little town where she had sought refuge from that old life, from him- a little slice of Americana called Sunshine City, Florida. There were things to discuss. Things left unsaid.

She wanted to see him…

But did he want to see her? Apparently so as he was now ten miles from the town.

Ten miles to go…

NEXT ISSUE: The Thing goes solo as he takes a trip to a tiny town in search of the woman he once loved. But what will he find when he gets there? Well, not too hard to guess, but hopefully there will be a surprise or two waiting in the wings. Be here next time for… “Terror In Another Tiny Town”!