The Baxter Building
Madison Avenue at 42nd Street
Manhattan, New York

Ben Grimm sighed as he stared through the reinforced tinted glass; floor to ceiling sheets that he knew had costs thousands of dollars. Not quite unbreakable but he knew that they would stand up to anything short of armor-piercing shells fired at point blank range. This was the entrance for ‘Joe Average’ after all, and he knew just the first line of defense. Security got progressively more intense once past the front door.

He shook his head as he gazed at the opulent lobby beyond the glass. It was slightly reminiscent of Trump Towers just a few blocks and a couple avenues uptown. Gold leaf sparkled on black marble sheathed walls broken by huge frescoes of the members of the Fantastic Four over the years as interpreted by Alicia Masters. Ben actually smiled as he took them in, the shining white marble likenesses so life-like he thought they might step from the walls. On the far wall was a twenty-foot wide waterfall running down more black marble to fill a gaudy looking fountain with a knee-high bench running around the rim. Probably a peaceful, popular spot come lunchtime.

Eventually his gaze wandered to the security checkpoint. That was new, but commonplace in all the major buildings in Manhattan since 9-11. Not so much a deterrent as a means to track those coming and going; everyone was required to step through a metal detector then- if they passed- have a temporary ID card made for their time in the building. False ID aside it gave a visual record of any and all who visited the Baxter Building. And of course at the checkpoint was a guard, or in this case a Guardsman.

Grimm had to admit that Stark, T’Challa and S.H.I.E.L.D. had pulled out all the stops to make certain that the Fantastic Four would be a viable agency in the hero community again. Ben Grimm sighed again and glanced at the younger man at his side.

He was wide-eyed and nervous, as well he should be for what they were about to do. This wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, like invading that third string S.H.I.E.L.D. base downtown a few weeks back. Grimm knew well all the money that Stark Industries, Wakanda Technologies and the US Government had sunk into the construction of the new Baxter Building and Four Freedoms Plaza.

‘Course they probably hadn’t counted on being invaded by Benjamin J. Grimm, the Ever-lovin’ Blue-eyed Thing.

NIGHT SHIFT

By Curtis Fernlund

“You ready, kid?” Ben asked watching the younger man. Like him he was dressed in a bulky overcoat and wide-brimmed hat. It was a stupid disguise but he knew it would offer some anonaminity from the cameras, at least until the shit hit the fan. The younger man licked his lips and nodded.

“Yessir, Mister Grimm.” Hobie Brown kept nodding as he stared at the Guardsman within sitting at the wide security desk. Grimm could hear the nervousness in his voice, saw the sweat beading on his brow beneath the brim of his hat.

“Chill, kid. Stay focused and you’ll be fine.” Brown nodded again, licked his lips again. He looked ready to bolt and run, but Grimm knew that he wouldn’t. There were few people that Benjamin Grimm respected anymore after all he had learned these past few months, but the Amazing Spider-Man was still within that dwindling number. The web-slinger had, had nothing but praise for the skill, talent and genius of Hobie Brown and that was enough for Aunt Petunia’s favorite nephew.

Grimm knew that the time would eventually come when he would have to drag Brown into his little circle. He hated that, as the kid would be marked now, but it had to be done. Ben had tried to get to the upper floors of the Baxter Building just yesterday, though he knew the security codes would be changed. Hell, they were changed regularly under normal conditions, but of course things had not been normal for some time. He had made it past security in the lobby, but his belt light no longer worked, meaning he had been locked out of the system’s internal ‘White List’. He had expected as much after the… altercation in DC last week. Worthington worked fast and now the ‘family’ had to know he was back.

Luckily, the Scarlet Centurion worked faster…

Manhattan:
428 Greene Street
SoHo
Yesterday…

Grimm watched as the last roiling shadows of Midnight’s Shadow Cloak swirled and flowed into the Dark Dimension behind him. He hoped that they would be okay. Midnight, Eric Arcane and Misty Knight all sent to deal with the latest potential dimensional anomaly that the Scarlet Centurion had brought to his attention. He wished they all could have gone, or at least more of the team, but the Centurion had suggested the trio so Ben had complied. And he supposed it had been for the best, though it seemed odd now. The centurion had never suggested a team before. And to make matters worse, they were short-handed at the moment.

Wing had been seriously down since Washington and the hard choices she had had to make. She had finally had to kill for the cause and it had not sat well with her at all. For all her tough talk, pomp and flash she was still way too human, still had a heart and conscience; two things that Grimm had abandoned long ago.

He had let her go when she had asked, knowing that there was probably a fifty/fifty chance that she would return after she took care of some ‘personal’ things. Grimm figured though that if Misty Knight was still on the team, Colleen Wing would return. They were friends and partners a lot like him and Johnny used to be, if not more so. She would be back.

And so would Skully. That had been more surprising when he out of the blue had asked for a couple days to deal with real life. Grimm had no idea what the Vet had going on down in the Bayou and he knew better than to ask. Luckily though, he had not heard from the Centurion since before Washington so he gave Skully the nod. That had left him and Jameson to hold down the fort, and of course that was when things started to happen…

“Ace high Royal Flush,” Jameson had said as he slapped down his cards with a shit-eating grin. Ben Grimm had grumbled as he tossed his Full House into the kitty and settled back to relight his cigar. He puffed the fat Cuban to life as he watched the ex-astronaut scoop the chips to his heaping pile.

“Glad Cap never brought ya ta’ the games, Jameson. I would’a had ta’ kill ya.” John Jameson laughed.

“He asked me once,” Jameson said, “when I was the Avengers’ pilot. Dad was having a party that night though, wanted to parade around his son the astronaut.” Jameson shrugged. “Dad came first back then.”

Ben nodded grabbing his beer as John Jameson had gathered the cards, starting to shuffle. It was then that the crimson sparkles had started flashing.

Grimm was shocked at first. He knew the signs but the Scarlet Centurion had never appeared to the others before. Jameson was staring wide-eyed at the sparks of scarlet, his body already morphing into wolf-form at the potential threat; his skin fading to gray, silvery fur sprouting, the muscles and bones of his face popping and elongating.

And then the Centurion had appeared, standing tall at eight feet at least his helm almost scraping the high ceilings of Arcane’s apartment. He looked tired and weak, his dark eyes unfocused and distracted as he seemed to scan the room before finally focusing on the Thing.

Grimm, he said almost gasping. Was he in pain? There is another…

And the Man-Wolf was suddenly on the top of the table, cards and chips scattering as he hunkered, fur upraised and a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat. “Who…”

“At ease, Jameson,” Grimm had said on his feet and stepping between the two. The Man-Wolf snarled but Ben stood his ground unflinching. “This is the boss,” he said though the word stuck in his throat a moment. “Our benefactor.”

Grimm… I’ve seen…

The Centurion seemed to sway and suddenly Ben Grimm’s mind filled with a flood of images cascading through his mind’s eye, a raging torrent of mismatched scenes flowing with the other-dimensional tide…

Reed Richards standing before a dimensional portal, the view showing a shattered Manhattan inhabited by creatures that had once been human, now zombies; Giant-Man, Cap… the Hulk! Friends…

Annihilus standing atop the Empire State Building, clutching at the remains of the ragged antennae as the hordes of the Negative Zone poured through a sparkling rip in the skies above a ravaged New York City…

Malice sitting upon an ebon throne as Marvels stood beaten and degraded before her. Richards knelt complacently at her side, the charred body of her brother nailed to the wall above her throne…

The blackened remains of Manhattan stretched out before him, a blazing, white-hot Human Torch hovering above the city of the dead…

And more; so many more…

Benjamin J. Grimm staggered as he was thrust back into reality. He leaned in, pressing his weight on the old oak, claw foot table that Alex Markham had dragged up from the garbage piles on the streets of Soho, thankful that it did not shatter under his weight. In the distance he heard John Jameson’s whimpering howls.

So many variants, the Centurion said, his body heaving. He must be stopped. He borders on Godhood. Richards’ whims will destroy reality. The Centurion stared at Grimm. He must die.

Ben Grimm blinked. Something surged within him swirling from rage to… love? He shook his head trying to clear it of the unwelcome images. “No way, pal,” Grimm said his voice deep and guttural. “No way he dies. For all the stupid shit he’s done, all the times he failed ta help me, he’s a thousand times saved the world an’ made it a better place. Here I draw thew line.”

The Scarlet Centurion’s face darkened as his form seemed to expand to tower over Grimm and the still-yowling Man-Wolf. You defy me? The Centurion said seething.You would defy fate after all I have shown you?

“Yeah,” he had said after a moment. The Centurion seemed shaken, his scowling face turning towards the Man-Wolf who seemed oblivious, something else driving his desires. Grimm noted that the Star Gem embedded in his throat was glowing wildly, crackling with a crimson of its own. “Richards ain’t gonna die.” Then… “Not yet.” Grimm stared at the Centurion, his sparkling blue eyes unwavering, jaw set waiting for the tantrum he knew was coming. He had met enough of these ‘God’ types to know what happened when you balked at their master plan.

The Centurion stared back, his own dark gaze smoldering. Crackles of scarlet flitted over the armored form and for just a moment Grimm thought that he was going to attack. Instead he sagged.

He must be stopped, Grimm, the Centurion said glancing curiously at Jameson who was on the floor now and backed into a corner howling. Too many of Richards’ probing experiments could result in catastrophe and alter the very fabric of Reality.

“Stoppin’ him’s not a problem,” Grimm replied lighting the stub of his cigar again. “Death ain’t an option, though. I’ll get the job done. Count on that.”

I will, the Centurion said as he started to fade. If I am forced to reveal my involvement too soon calamity might occur. But I will, to save Reality. Do not fail me Grimmmmm….

And he was gone.

The Thing turned to the Man-Wolf whose howling seemed to intensify a hundred-fold with the Scarlet Centurion’s fading act. He rushed over to his teammate, grabbing the morphed Jameson by the shoulders. “John!” he shouted, shaking his friend slightly, not sure what else to do. “What’s wrong, man?”

Jameson’s yowl went shrill and then abruptly died in his throat. His eyes went wide as his head jerked about tongue lolling and dripping saliva. Finally his eyes seemed to focus on Grimm.

“Ben…” he said in a wracking, snarling voice. “What…”

“You tell me, pal.” Grimm released Jameson as sanity seemed to return to the wolfen form of the once Stargod. “Thought for a minute there I was gonna have ta’ take ya ta’ the Vet.” Grimm noted that the gem had stopped flashing. Was it somehow connected to the Centurion?

The Man-Wolf’s gaze faltered as it shifted about the room again as though searching for something. He was breathing hard and Ben thought that he could almost hear the man’s heart hammering in his chest. Finally he sagged and Grimm saw that he was reverting back to human, shrinking back to normal-looking flesh and blood.

“I dunno,” Jameson said when the change had reversed, leaning against the wall. “I heard this… howling, and it was all I could do not to run out into the streets and follow it to the source. Join the pack…” Jameson took a deep breath, let it out. “Never experienced anything like it before.”

“But yer okay now? Got it under control? Yer gem was glowin’. It supposed to do that?”

“Not normally, no. Maybe it was reacting to that loud howling?”

“I didn’t hear anything. Is this something we should be concerned with?”

Jameson ran his fingers over the gem after it had stopped glowing. “No, I’m sure it’s fine. My body must still be adjusting. Maybe I’m just not fully in tune with the Star God yet.”

“Alright, if yer tellin’ me you’ve got it under control, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust you.” Grimm stood and offered his hand, helping Jameson back to his feet. “You need help, lemme know. Right now we got another pound a’ fat on the fire.”

“I’m ready.”

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Grimm said puffing on his cigar, “but I got some other poor soul in mind fer this job.”

To learn just what was bothering the Man-Wolf, go read Werewolf By Night #3 by Ritter elsewhere here at Marvel Omega!

The Baxter Building
Madison Avenue at 42nd Street
Manhattan, New York
Now…

Grimm pushed through the door and strolled casually across the marble-tiled floor towards the security station. The Guardsman on duty looked up as soon as he had entered, watching his approach. “Building’s closed, sir,” the Guardsman said with a tentative voice no doubt wondering what was wrong with his armor’s sensors. Grimm smiled knowing that he appeared as a blank spot on- so far- all technological scanners thanks to the ‘Stone of Andrak’ that he clutched in the deep pocket of his trenchcoat. He just had to get closer before the Guardsman went on the defensive.

“Yeah, I know,” Grimm said happily as he stepped up to the desk watching as the Guardsman worked the computer controls on the inset keyboard. “I left some paperwork in the office that I really need. Didn’t get a chance ta’ scan it to the Jump Drive yet, and I gotta get it copied.”

“Name?” the Guardsman finally asked looking up. Too late he saw the two huge orange, rocky hands; the left clamping down atop his helmet and pulling him forward to meet the right that slammed fully into his faceplate. Garret Jones, Special S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Guardsman Division swiftly went unconscious.

Grimm propped the limp, armored form as best he could in the reinforced chair to make it look like the guard was intently involved with his monitor duty. That done he leaned forward and finger-pecked at the inlaid keyboard bypassing code and opening channels into the building. He brought up the security screen and saw that the video feeds showed the Guardsman, but happily not him. That done he keyed off the sensors that monitored the turnstiles.

Ben Grimm strolled back across the lobby and back out into the chill air where Hobie Brown waited nervously. “Done all I could, kid. The rest is on you. You got yer shit?”

“Yessir, Mister Grimm.” Ben shook his head.

“Relax, kid,” Grimm said as he pulled his huge hands from the pockets of his bulky trenchcoat. He handed a shining gem to the younger man, then brought a cigar to his rocky lips and lit it, puffing it to life. He exhaled a swirling cloud of blue smoke as Brown fit the crystal into his bracers. “Fate a’ Reality rides on you now. No pressure though. Ya fuck up, we die.”

Hobie Brown looked up with wide brown eyes as Grimm chuckled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, son.”

Hobie Brown swallowed hard as he walked softly easing through the turnstiles, his eyes fixed on the Guardsman sure that any second he would come awake and blast him to oblivion. He breathed a sigh of relief as the turnstile clacked and the Guardsman remained unconscious while he scurried to the banks of elevators set off to the side near the back wall.

He stepped into one of the open cars and hit the button for the top floor, breathing only when the doors finally closed and the elevator started to rise. He was sweating bullets as he removed the over-sized hat and trenchcoat, stuffing both into the backpack that he had had wadded up in the pocket of the disguise making sure to keep his face turned away from the camera mounted in the corner of the car. He took deep breaths as the car rose steadily upwards into the heart of the building. He checked his gear again…

He had worn the spandex tonight, the skin-tight version of his usual Prowler costume as Grimm had explained that some of the access corridors and air ducts would probably be tight. Not good for his thicker costume to ball up in a cramped place and of course he had to leave the cape behind, though he did wear his thin, pocketed utility belt. He was not doing this for the acclaim though, so it did not matter how cool the cape was. Hell he hoped that no one would ever know that he had ‘Hacked’ the Baxter Building.

Glancing about nervously within seconds and without thinking his eyes locked on the obvious security camera in the elevator car. He had yet to detect the not-so-obvious camera and had to hope that Grimm’s mystic trinket did all that he said it would, basically blotting his image in the security feed. Still he turned away again taking deep breaths as he tried to focus, pulling on his mask.

Soon the car stopped and Hobie licked his lips beneath the gray Prowler hood. He had reached the top-most floor allowed to the public and now had to get out of the car and into the shaft. Simple enough. Every elevator car was required to have an escape hatch- it was Federal Law. Of course he WAS dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the fucking Fantastic Four. But despite his reservations he found the hatch and popped it open. Hobie hit the ‘One’ button on the wall panel then scrambled up through the hatch.

As the car began to descend Hobie raised his right arm and pressed a stud on his fist bracing. There was a ‘puff’ of pneumatic energy and a three-pronged grapple line shot up into the darkness of the elevator shaft above him. He braced and hit ‘Retract’ on the studded console on his wrist and immediately he started to rise as the car fell away below him. He swung and braced, slamming into the wall of the shaft then swiftly scrambling, up the wall, legs churning for purchase. He soon reached the ceiling of the shaft and found a stabile footing as he keyed in the radio. He heard static.

“I’m in,” he said and a moment later winced as Grimm replied.

“Barely hear ya, kid. Doubt I’ll be able ta help. You know what ta’ do. Good – “

Hobie turned off the radio and settled against the cool wall taking deep breaths as he scanned the darkness…

Manhattan,
The Offices of Heroes for Hire

“You look good, Colleen,” Daniel Rand said dabbing the soft, terrycloth towel at the sweat streaking down his face. He took a long swallow from the water bottle on his desk, wrinkling his nose at the ring that condensation left behind, his eyes then drifting back to his visitor.

Colleen Wing stood at the windows staring out at the lights of the city lost in thought. She was dressed in a long, black overcoat against the threatening rain, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail and framing her soft, grim features. He had noted the dark circles under her eyes, the slight loss of weight and the haunted look as he gazed at her ghostly reflection in the glass. More, he could sense her inner turmoil.

They had been through a lot together over the years, along with Luke and Misty, but beyond friendship and love he and Colleen shared a closer bond. To save both their lives once he had had to meld their minds, their very spirits with a mystical power related to the ‘Iron Fist’. Now they ‘felt’ one another continually, one sensing the other’s joy or pain. One always knew where the other was. She had never forgiven him.

“How’s Misty?” he asked trying to sound casual while at the same time trying to get her to open up. She had come to him for a reason, pounding on his door, disrupting his workout. He had not been expecting her – had been shocked in fact to find her there- but of course he had let her in. She was family.

“She’s fine,” Colleen said her voice a cool whisper, “as far as I know anyway. In London last I heard.” She shrugged. Daniel Rand took another swallow of water then capped the bottle setting it back on the desk. He glanced at the case that she had left propped by the door, long and thin, obviously her sword.

“What’s…” he started, leaning forward and steepling his fingers to his chin, elbows on the desktop. “Why are you here?” He had wondered for months why she and Misty Knight had mysteriously and abruptly stepped out of his life. There had been no explanation, his calls never returned. He had spent many a restless night wondering just what he had done, why they had left. Now he hoped to get answers.

Colleen took a deep breath, exhaling, fogging the window. “I killed a girl,” she said in a low voice that seemed to crack. Danny licked his lips.

“You’ve killed before,” he said.

“Not like this.” Colleen sighed. “She was a kid. A Mutant, barely out of her teens and I assassinated her.”

Daniel Rand stared at his old friend. She was shaking, he could see, her finger tracing something in the fog on the glass. He could feel the torment in her soul. “Why?” he asked knowing now that she was looking for comfort as well as vindication. “What did she do?”

“It’s what she might have done,” Colleen said turning to face him at last. He could see that there were tears in her eyes waiting to fall. “She was destined to kill Senator Robert Kelly. Had she succeeded the world would have been plunged into chaos: race riots between Human and Mutant, Sentinels, a witch hunt that would have made McCarthy look like a pacifist. Millions would have died and those that survived would have wished they had.”

Daniel Rand remembered the story in The Bugle, though he did not recall the aide to Kelly’s name. Unnamed terrorists were blamed. He stared at his friend as she in turn stared at him. He could see her- feel her struggling to retain control.

“How do you know?” he finally said standing and dropping his sweat-stained towel onto the back of his office chair. He moved to the front of the desk, knowing that she needed to be held but still kept him at arm’s length.

“I have it on good authority,” she said folding her arms across her chest, hugging herself. “A very trusted source.” She looked up biting her lower lip, the tears starting to flow. Daniel Rand stepped forward and took her in his arms, holding her close, tightly as she laid her head to his chest and sobbed. He stroked her hair, shushing her, trying to comfort her as best he could.

“I can’t… do this… anymore,” she said with a quavering voice. “I thought I could. Thought I was strong, but I see that girl’s face every time I close my eyes, the terror, pleading…”

“Then stop,” Danny Rand said soothingly, placing his hand to her head, holding her to him. “You did what needed to be done, I’m sure. But now, maybe it’s time to move on. Maybe it’s time to step back. Walk away.

“Come back to us.”

Snuffling, Colleen looked up at him, something like hope in her dark, red-rimmed eyes.

“Come back to Heroes for Hire,” he continued. “You know you and Misty always have a home with us. Whatever you did, it was for a good reason. I know that, and Luke will too. I don’t know who you’ve been running with, what all you’ve done, but now you need to be with friends, family. You need to heal, Colleen.”

She pulled away from him then, backing up a step. He saw her shiver again, placing a hand on his chest her finger tracing the Dragon tattoo that marked him as the Iron Fist. She nodded.

“You’re right,” she said with a heavy sigh, “and soon. I feel change coming. But I’m committed, made promises. I have to see this through a little longer.” She looked up then, dark, almond eyes sparkling, a forced smile twitching her lips. “Thank you, Danny.”

“Hey,” he said. “What are friends for?”

The Baxter Building
Madison Avenue at 42nd Street
Manhattan, New York

“C’mon…”

Hobie Brown cursed as he tried to squeeze through the tight confines of the electrical shaft. He was sweating harder than ever in the cloistered shaft that ran the vertical length of the building. He could feel the hum of electricity- and other energies he did not even want to know about- even through the thin insulation of his suit. His right arm throbbed, his shoulder aching from the constant pull of the grapple line as he inhaled, twisting at odd angles, willing himself thinner.

“Just one more rep, one more water dog and I’d be stuck tight,” he grumbled as a metal coupling dug viciously into the small of his back. He shifted his legs and twisted his torso as close to 180 degrees as he cared to go and finally slipped up another couple feet, the grapple hauling him higher.

Grimm had been right, and the building specs that that spooky Jimmy Woo had recovered had marked the electrical conduit. It had taken awhile to find the access panel dangling from his grapple and rappelling against the walls of the elevator shaft in total darkness and how many stories of open freefall, but he had found it. His mini laser had burned the rivets away and he had squeezed through the panel, barely, starting his ascent.

Grimm had said it would be tight, but he had also said that he had faith and that was all that Hobie Brown had needed. Ben Grimm, the Thing had faith in him. Hell, that was like a pat on the back from Captain America. The real one, not the new blood.

Hobie glanced at the LED of his watch set in his left bracer. He was pushing an hour and starting to get behind schedule. He had no idea just how far he still had to go though, he had had to stop at so many junctures to find the right position to wriggle through the plastic pipes and tangled wiring. Up ahead somewhere there would be a nexus where the real maintenance work was done. That was his goal; a wide spot that would allow him access into the guarded floors that housed the Fantastic Four.

With a grunt Hobie shoved his way past the latest obstacle in the shaft, a Con Edison Juncture Box. A lattice of pipes and wires, tubing and conduits were scrambled together in a mishmash of confusion blocking the shaft. If not for the tug of his wrist grapple he would never have made it through, but with an effort he was soon standing on a bare girder in the nexus.

He pulled his mask up, trying to get air as he heaved and rested and got his bearings. Woo had said that here was a fuse box that could be removed that would in turn open into one of the many maintenance closets on the living quarters. Another tight fit, but he would be in the FF’s Headquarters proper and just a couple floors from his goal. After a moment and a quick drink of water from one of the survival tubes he carried, Hobie started his search.

Hobie found the fuse box within five minutes of blind groping and with another thirty seconds of torching the brackets he squirmed through the opening. He slithered to the floor in the maintenance closet and eased the box back into place. Hopefully, if all went well he would not be leaving the way he came in.

Now of course came the tricky part. The Prowler checked his bracers and gear and stepped silently towards the closet door, easing it open.

The light in the hallway beyond was dim but welcome compared to the pitch black of the shaft. The hall beyond was functional but pleasant done in rich wood paneling, low carpet and friendly, homey touches like plants and paintings. He could hear the sound of a television, and grimaced after a quick glance as he saw light flickering from an open doorway along the path he had to take. Someone was home.

The Prowler eased into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him. He crept down the hall towards the stairs he would take to reach the upper levels, clinging to the wall, staying in the shadows. Reaching the open doorway he chanced a glance inside.

There was a woman seated on a long couch, her bare feet propped up on a coffee table in front of her as she watched the images flickering on the huge digital screen in front of her. She was pretty he decided, about his age and totally lost in whatever she was watching as she munched on a bag of microwave popcorn. A zombie movie was playing by the look and Hobie silently cursed himself realizing that he had forgotten to set his DVR.

Bernard, Hobie said to himself. Nanny to the Richard’s progeny, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and apparently a threat as Grimm had told him to watch out for her. Luckily at the moment she was absorbed in the latest episode of The Walking Dead and the Prowler easily slipped past the doorway.

He reached the stairwell and started to climb, confident that the crystal the Thing had given him would keep him undetected. In less than a minute he was on the floor that housed the Computer Room.

Hobie made his way down the hall, this one sterile and white for the most part, finally finding the main Computer Room. He tapped in the codes on the wall mount that Grimm and Woo had both assured him would work and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors hissed open. He slipped inside as the doors slid closed behind him.

“Whoa…”

Hobie Brown stared in awe at the massive array of machinery that lined the walls and took up every square inch of the huge, cool room. He was almost hypnotized by the hundreds of flashing lights, the low hum of the machinery running in the background. There were banks of computers that he knew were far beyond what he knew, stretching floor to ceiling all along the walls. He saw technology that he could not begin to identify, stolen or borrowed from the many space-faring races that Richards had encountered, or created from his own complex mind, Hobie had no clue. He was way out of his depth.

“Focus, Brown,” he said to himself as he fumbled at his belt flipping open one of the pouches as he scanned the room. Finally he saw a simple monitor station, hopefully a slave module that he could hack into. He started across the room, pulling Woo’s Flash Drive from the pouch on his belt and froze as he saw a section of flickering light break away from the wall and start to float into his path.

It was a robot, small and hovering on some sort of repulsor beam. It had spindly metal arms and a head extending on a coil of jointed metal, boxy with a fluid screen for a face that portrayed a smiling visage that reminded Hobie of a Light Bright display. It turned to face him.

UNAUTHORIZED PERSONEL. INITIATING SECURITY LOCK-DOWN LEVEL 3.

“Wonderful.”

Four Freedoms Plaza

Ben Grimm was surprised at the number of homeless that gravitated to the plaza at night. Two dozen at least hunkering against the chill gathered together with their shopping carts dragged into a circle around the grassy area where they chose to sleep. He new the NYPD wouldn’t step on what was basically Federal land and clear the park, but he was surprised that the two Guardsmen patrols had ignored them.

Still, it worked for him. Grimm sat on one of the many benches that surrounded the huge fountain in the park, his long coat shrugged about his shoulders, his wide-brimmed hat pulled low. He dug into his pocket and pulled another stogie, lighting it as he stared up at the Baxter Building. He hated playing the waiting game.

“Spare one a’ those?”

Grimm looked at the old white man, long gray hair and dressed in rags hauling a shopping cart behind him. He wore a knit cap and pea coat, his cool blue eyes bright above the black bags and haggard, gaunt, whiskered cheeks. “Sure, old timer,” Ben Grimm said as he fished another cigar from his pocket, lighting it from his own before handing it to the old man.

“Much obliged,” the old man said drawing deep of the cigar and settling next to Ben on the bench. “Ain’t seen you around,” the man said after a moment. “New to the streets?”

“Naw,” Grimm said watching the building. “Just passin’ through. Grew up on Yancy Street, back in the day so I know the streets.” The old man nodded in understanding.

“Times have changed,” the man said settling back into the bench. “Not like it used ta be. I grew up in the Kitchen. Butted heads with the Spics every Saturday night. It’s different now.”

“That it is, brother,” Ben said enjoying his moment’s peace. Of course it wasn’t meant to last. He sat up watching the familiar streak of flame as it arched through the night sky heading for the Baxter Building. Grimm stood pulling his cell phone from his pocket, keying a button.

“Brown… Brown!” Static.

“No worries, friend,” the old man said with a chuckle. “Just the Torch. He don’t worry ‘bout the likes of us. Big shot hee-ro.”

But the Thing ignored the old man, walking towards the building’s entrance as he thumbed another key on his phone. He watched as high overhead his old friend slid through the Unstable Glass that lined all the windows of the building and entered unheeded. Grimm listened as the phone rang in his ear…

“Yeah?” Ben Grimm heard the stressed voice of Misty Knight, the sounds of battle and gunfire staticky in the background. He wondered what was happening, thought about asking but dismissed it. Knight knew what to do.

“I need an extraction,” Grimm said sounding stressed himself. “You about done there?”

“That would be a ‘no’. The Celestial’s got a horde of vampires you neglected to tell us about. Plus we got Shang-Chi and MI-6 in the mix. An’ now we got Captain Britain! Fuck! England! This is shit, Grimm.”

Silence…

“He’s on the list,” Ben said regretting it. Braddock was a little slow but good people.

“List? What are you – “

“You have the stylus?” he said cutting her off.

“Yeah. But what – “

“He’s an anomaly. Seven outta ten dimensions where he becomes the dominant ‘hero’ end in disaster. Somethin’ called the Jasper’s Warp. Don’t ask. Use the stylus and eliminate that chance here.”

“But what – “ she repeated but Grimm cut her off again.

“Do what ya can, Knight. I’ll handle things here. Just get the job done on yer end.”

“Would’a been nice to – “

“Misty! Do what you gotta do. I got faith in ya. See you later.” Ben thumbed the connection off. Slipping the cell into the compartment on his belt he shoved through the lobby doors. He glanced at the Guardsman as he shoved through the security turnstiles but the man had not moved and was still slumbering peacefully. Good.

The Thing stepped into one of the waiting public cars and hit the button for the uppermost floor. He looked up as the doors closed, the unblinking eye of the security camera staring right at him. There was nothing to do for it though. No way Brown could take on the Torch. He was going to need help, and Ben was the only one around.

He had hoped to avoid the family reunion this trip, which was why he had roped the Prowler into the mission. He figured the news from Washington had trickled through the channels thanks to Worthington, but he knew Reed, Sue and Johnny better than anyone else in the world this side of his dear old Aunt Petunia. No matter how grave the news, the family would harbor that last shred of doubt until they heard it from Ben’s orange, rocky lips. Until then they would leave him alone, more or less. That ended tonight though. Now they might try to find him, feel obligated to stop him and he couldn’t have that. Not yet.

The elevator stopped on the top floor and Ben got out. He walked the hallway counting his steps until he reached a section of wall that looked no different than any other. Ben knew that this floor entire floor was reinforced, the walls and ceiling lined with sensors and thickly constructed with layers of various metals and stone mixtures. Above there was a buffer zone designed to protect the lower portion of the building, followed by another reinforced floor even thicker than the one he stood on. It had been designed to withstand pressures that only the likes of the Hulk, Sub-Mariner and the Brute might inflict. Unlike them however, Ben Grimm was in the know.

Sloughing out of his over-sized coat and hat, Ben stood before the wall. Staring for a long moment he wished that he was Karnak of the Inhumans so he could spot a weakness. He was just the Thing though, so his best guess would have to do. He stepped to the side touching the wall, his thick, rocky fingers finding a seam in the construction. Ben Grimm kissed his knuckles and drew back a fist…

KRA-KA-TOOM!

The wall bent at his first strike, cracking plaster and paneling, bulging inwards. A second blow created a crack and set the alarms to blaring.

“Dammit!”

Ben Grimm reared back, winding up his arm. “Time for my Sunday best haymaker,” he muttered as he slammed his massive fist into the wall.

It did not fall away, did not rupture or explode but simply bent inwards a bit more. But it was enough. Ben could see the open space of the private elevator shaft beyond as he pressed into the wall, hammering and pushing. Once in the shaft he could climb the access ladder or even the cables if he had to, up to the next floor. He could rip through the elevator doors then, no problem. But he had to get there first.

“Hang on, kid,” he grumbled slamming his fist into the wall again. “The cavalry’s on the way.”

Hobie Brown stared at the smoldering remains of H.E.R.B.I.E. lying at his feet. Its Light Bright face had gone black and there was a sizable rent in its chassis from where his grapple had burst its exoskeleton. Hobie actually felt a pang of regret as he retracted his line back into his bracer.

The Humanoid Experimental Robot, B-type, Integrated Electronics had been cheerful and pleasant as it had tried to detain him. For its silly appearance it had really been a remarkable bit of technology and seemingly close to freethinking with its A.I.D at remarkable levels. Congenial as it was however, it was an impediment to the mission and had to go. Luckily it was not really built for combat.

The Prowler stepped over the mangled remains of the robot hurrying towards the slave monitor station. Hobie slid into the plush, functional computer chair and keyed the system awake with a nudge of the mouse. With a flicker of light the fading and expanding images of ‘4’ vanished and a log in screen appeared. Hobie Brown leaned in, his mind racing as he recalled the various passwords that Woo had given him as logical considering the Torch and the Invisible Woman. His fingers flashed over the keys even as a bright light appeared behind him. It was right about then that the alarms started to blare.

Hobie Brown spun about even as fire descended about him; concentric rings flickering, hot but not touching and not enough to burn him. Looking up he saw the young, blonde haired man that the world knew as the Human Torch. Johnny Storm was dressed in the dark blue, black and white of the current uniform, his hair tousled as his hand made a spiraling motion creating a lasso-like ring of fire that enveloped the Prowler. He glanced about as he stepped into the computer room, affording a shake of his head as he looked to the damaged robot.

“Reed’s not gonna be happy about that,” he said with a conceited smirk as he stepped over the wreckage and approached the work station, “but between you and me, two thumbs up. Never liked that little glory hog, taking my place on the cartoon.”

Hobie stared at the Human Torch, little flickering licks of fire playing over his body. He could feel the heat emanating from the other man as he drew closer, just shy of lighting fully into his fiery form. The Torch added another two loops of flame about the Prowler, then drew them tight with the slightest gesture.

“Now then, suppose you tell me just who the hell you are and what you’re doing here.”

“I – “ Hobie started to speak but the Torch’s eyes went wide.

“You’re the Prowler, right?” he said eyeing him more closely. “Spidey said you were one of the good guys. What’s up with this?”

Hobie Brown was about to answer, to confess all when they both heard the shriek of rending metal. Johnny Storm turned, his concentration flagging and Hobie rolled to the floor and out of the binding, flaming lasso.

“What the hell,” Storm said as Hobie raised his arm and fired his grapple into the Torch’s back.

Johnny Storm yelped as the clawed grapple slammed in between his shoulder blades. He staggered forward with the impact and actually out into the hall where he dropped to his knees. His arms flailed as he snagged the grapple from the back of his uniform, ripping it away and casting it aside. His body burst fully into flame as he glared at the Prowler.

“Guess Spidey was wrong about you,” he said as he shifted, floating to his feet. Hobie saw a fireball forming in the Torch’s hand even as he glanced about looking for cover. He dove towards a cart of mechanical implements even as a huge orange rocky arm came into view, the fist slamming the Torch upside the head and sending him flying…

Ben Grimm was not happy at all with hitting one of his oldest friends with a rabbit punch, but he suffered through, thinking of the mission. The Torch went flying with the blow, down the hall and finally slamming into the far wall leaving a blasted scorch mark where he hit. Grimm stepped up and looked into the computer room.

“Get to it, Brown,” he said pausing until the Prowler got to his feet and hurried back to the computers. “I got this.” Ben watched a moment as the Prowler slid back into his chair and frantically started typing at the keys before moving on.

Johnny Storm sat slumped against the end wall of the corridor, flames licking at his body as he shook his head trying to focus. Grimm hurried forward, but too late his old friend burst into flame again and looked up uncomprehending.

“Ben?” the Torch said even as the Thing continued forward. He had no time for this, no room for old feelings. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a thought; the desire to snap the kid’s neck. Ben knew that was the Wizard talking, and the Puppet Master when the two had mind controlled him- again- turning him to the dark side. Easy as it would be to do just that, he had bigger fish to fry. Storm would get his eventually, but not yet.

“Ben!” the Torch said as he pushed off the wall struggling to his feet. “We thought you were dead. And then Fury… the things he said. We couldn’t believe it.”

Grimm bit his tongue, holding the anger back as he stepped before his old friend. Johnny Storm stared at him in disbelief, confusion, his eyes questioning. Grimm sighed.

“Believe it.” His fist slammed into the wall rending a hole where the Torch’s head had just been. Johnny Storm had ducked at the last second, diving forward under the blow and soaring down the hall even as Grimm turned. The Human Torch hovered near the ripped open gash where the elevator’s doors had been, drawing the flame to him.

“Ben!” the Torch shrieked. “This is crazy! It’s the Wizard, right? He’s still got you in his grips. Reed can help you! We all will.” Ben noted that Johnny was collecting flame in his hands for a fireball as he stalked down the corridor.

“Ain’t the Wizard, kid,” Grimm said. “There’s shit goin’ on, you ain’t got a clue.”

“Fury said you killed a girl.”

“That’s the least a what I done, Junior. An’ it’s only gonna get worse. Let me do what I gotta do here, an’ I’ll go.”

“And just what is that, buddy?” the Torch asked, the fireball blazing in his hand as he reared back to throw it. Grimm paused some ten feet away, judging. The Torch was hot, but not hot enough to hurt him- not seriously anyway. He was still holding back, uncertain.

“Wish I could tell ya, kid. Hell I could use ya, but it ain’t in the cards.”

“Ben?”

Grimm charged forwards even as the Torch threw his blazing fireball. Grimm gritted his teeth as he dove through it, wincing at the pain as he drew an arm back. The Torch tried to soar overhead but was too slow, lost in his memories. Grimm’s fist connected, the Torch’s head snapping to the side. Johnny Storm plowed into the floor, his flame dying as consciousness escaped him.

Ben Grimm stared at the crumpled, fallen form of one of his best friends, his teammate, and it took every fiber of his being not to put his fist through the Torch’s skull. He knew it was the Wizard’s conditioning- his Psycho Helmet or whatever he called it. The rage still burned after all these months. Ben wondered if he would ever be free.

“Omigod…”

Ben turned and smirked. At the far end of the hall he saw Debra Bernard, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nanny to Franklin and Valeria. She was also the one that had sent him spiraling back through time and set him on his current path. Granted, he had been trying to kill her at the time, but in a round about way, this was all her fault.

She was dressed in a thin camisole, raggedy blue jeans, barefoot and looking like she just woke up. She held a S.H.I.E.L.D. Mark III Atomizer in her hands, the gun so huge she could barely hold it up. She tried though, he gave her that much credit.

“Hello, Bernard,” he said stalking forward his hands flexing into fists. “This is gonna be sweet.” Of course it was right then when Brown popped his head out of the computer room.

“Mister Grimm,” Brown said his head snapping right and left to take in the thing as well as Debra Bernard and the unconscious Human Torch. “Woo’s in the system, gathering data and shutting down – “

“Get yer gear, kid,” Ben said watching as Bernard hefted the gun trying to ratchet it into a setting that might do him damage. “The ball’s in Jimmy’s court now. Time we got outta Dodge.”

“I’ll shoot!”

Grimm looked at Debbie Bernard hefting the over-sized gun up on her shoulder. It was almost bigger than she was and had to weigh more but she was doing her best to stand her ground despite the terror in her eyes. She knew what she had done and had probably heard the news through the grapevine that the big, bad Thing had turned to the dark side. But she was still doing her duty, protecting the kids. Willing to give her life…

“Stand down, Bernard,” Grimm said. “I got better things ta do than worry about the likes a you.” Grimm turned giving a final glance at the unconscious Torch ignoring the gun pointed now at his back.

The Prowler stepped into the hall again, staring at the woman with the huge, Kirbyesque gun. He glanced at Grimm and Ben could see the worry even through his mask.

“Ya ready, kid?” Grimm said striding towards the windows. He could feel the bead of the gun as it trailed him, but he ignored it looking out at Manhattan sparkling before him.

“Yessir,” Brown said stepping up beside him. Grimm thought about smashing the window, but in the end tapped the code into the security board so that it would simply open. He waited while the Prowler swung out onto the thin ledge.

“I’ll shoot,” he heard Bernard say, her voice wavering more than the gun. “I swear I will.” Grimm smirked.

“Figger ya will,” Ben said turning towards her. “Ya got balls, Bernard, I’ll give ya that. Not many as would stand up ta the likes a me.” Ben glanced out the window at the pneumatic shush of the Prowler’s grapple attaching somewhere overhead. Hobie Brown nodded that he was secure and ready.

“Take care a my god-kids, Bernard. Anything happens ta them, I come lookin’ fer you.”

Ben Grimm smiled as the woman paled as he stepped through the window grabbing the grapple line.

As he was rappelling down the line he heard the clatter of a heavy gun hitting the floor…

Next Issue: I truly have no idea at the moment. The Multiverse is an open book before me and Ben Grimm has the Cliff’s Notes.

Could be the Avengers…

Could be the Hulk…

Could be the X-Men! Oh boy…

We WILL find out the fate of Misty, Arcane and M’Nai. We WILL learn Colleen Wing’s decision. We WILL see Jim Skully fine tuning his still down in the bayou. All that and a surprise guest star.

Y’all come back, y’hear?