On the beaches of Maui, a mound of sand began to shake. Slowly, a mass of it rose like a pillar from the ground. The sand particles shifted and moved, forming a humanoid shape, and then began to create definition. Green eyes opened in the head, and the sand particles merged together in such a way that they resembled skin and clothing, even changing color, appearing as a man with short, red hair and dressed in cargo pants and a green and black striped t-shirt.

All around him on the beach were bodies. Men, women and what appeared to be children in bathing suits. However, each of them looked as if they were old and decrepit, dying as a result of old age. The Sandman looked to his right and beside him was a Hispanic woman with long, black hair that possessed a red streak. She wore a skintight black and red leather suit and gestured with a single finger to the beach.

In a simple black bikini, a woman with olive-green skin and hair stared out into the ocean. She could sense the newcomers on the beach and turned to face them. Her eyes crackled with radioactive power as they approached.

“Half-Life, I presume,” said the woman. “My name is Tarantula, I’m—”

Half-Life held out her hand and fired a blast of radioactive energy. It simply passed right through Tarantula. Half-Life glanced at her hand in surprise and tried again. Still nothing. “What are you?”

“At the moment, simply a hologram,” said Tarantula. “I’m well-aware of your temper and felt this would be a much easier way for us to talk.”

The Sandman’s body collapsed in a pile, merging back with the beach. His torso, about ten times larger than his actual size, emerged behind Half-Life and his arms, now like massive coils, wrapped around the alien warrior. She struggled against him, trying to break free of his grip.

“An’ as for me, I’m as real as it gets, sister. But yer little death-touch won’t work on me, now will it?” he asked.

“Shall we find out?” asked Half-Life, her eyes glowing brightly, a grin on her face.

Sandman simply laughed. “Yeah, keep it up, babe. Maybe if you keep tryin’, you could do somethin’ to me in a few weeks or months. But in the meanwhile, I can keep fixing myself up with the environment. Guess you made the wrong choice comin’ to the beach, huh? They don’t call me Sandman for nothin’.”

“So, you are made of actual sand, yes?” asked Half-Life. “Do you know what happens to sand when it heats up?”

Half-Life’s entire body glowed, and Sandman could indeed feel her getting hotter. Her body became as bright as a sun, giving off intense light that could be seen from miles. As the light dimmed, Sandman and a good portion of the beach had now been converted to glass. With a simple energy blast from her eyes, Half-Life shattered the Sandman’s glass arm and escaped from his grasp. She turned her attention to Tarantula.

“Now, what to do about—”

The sound of glass scraping against glass caused Half-Life to cringe. The Sandman was still moving in his glass form and he concentrated, the glass beginning to revert back to its sand state. A cage composed of sand rose up around Half-Life, closing in on her.

“Nice try, darling, but the Wizard taught me how to change to an’ from glass some time back,” said Sandman.

“Marko, please,” said Tarantula. “We simply want to speak with you. If you do not like what we have to say, then we will leave you in peace. Okay?”

Half-Life nodded. “Fine. Make it fast.”

“Since your liberation from the Raft, our employer has been keeping tabs on you. And he’d really like to use your services,” said Tarantula.

“And why would I work for your boss?” asked Half-Life.

“For one, the job consists of causing a lot of death and destruction,” said Tarantula. “We can provide you with a secure base of operations, information, allies, and perhaps even hook you back up with an old friend. Assuming, of course, you’re interested.”

Half-Life smiled. “Tell me more about this friend.”

CRESCENDO

Part II

By Steve Seinberg and Dino Pollard

Zengzhou, Henan
China

Karla Sofen stood in front of the Chinese factory, watching it carefully, monitoring the people who came in and out. Standing beside her was the man she’d been forced to take on as a partner—Frank Hall, Graviton. Wearing his blue and white costume with the cape flowing behind him.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Zemo has spent months amassing power, while all I have is you,” said Karla with an exasperated sigh. “We need allies, Franklin. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the Barons Zemo and Strucker do not get along very well. If we can ally ourselves with the world’s largest terrorist organization, that will give us an edge as we plot our vengeance.”

“That I know, but why China?” asked Graviton.

“This factory is actually a Hydra outpost,” said Karla. “While I was working with Zemo, I investigated many of Strucker’s operations. Some information I gave to Helmut, but some I kept for myself…just in case. It would seem I made the right decision.”

“Do we go knock on the door?” asked Graviton.

“I believe that’s the order of the day. If you would please, Dr. Hall…”

Graviton smiled, letting his hair down and rising into air. He hovered towards the front entrance to the factory. Security forces saw him approaching and Graviton held his arms out, palms facing up. He turned his index and middle fingers on each hand at ninety degree angles, pointing them to the sky, and the guards found themselves hefted from the ground by his power.

Karla watched the entire situation, walking towards the factory. As she did, the moonstone that had been merged with her body surrounded her with golden energy, transforming her simple street clothes into her yellow and gold form-fitting bodysuit.

As the guards kicked and turned in mid-air, Graviton laughed. But quickly, he found himself growing bored by this. He turned his hands, pointing his fingers down, increasing the gravitational pull around the guards. They slammed into the pavement with such force, they were liquefied on impact.

A few other guards emerged, opening fire. Graviton surrounded himself with a forcefield, chuckling the entire time. He increased the pull on each bullet as it left the barrel, dropping it to the ground before it could fly any amount of distance. The guns suddenly became extremely heavy, and the guards collapsed trying to hold them. They strained as they tried to retrieve their weapons, but Graviton simply shook his head.

“I’ve never understood this fascination with guns. They are hardly effective enough to cause the kind of wholesale slaughter one might enjoy.” Graviton pointed his index and middle finger and mimed firing a gun. A gravitational beam shot forth from the tips of his digit, its concussive force capable of slamming right through a guard. He did the same with his opposite hand, firing a beam through another guard’s head and blowing it apart on impact. Graviton raised both sets of fingers to his lips and blew across them as if clearing twin smoking barrels.

“Franklin, I believe we’ve made our presence known,” said Moonstone, hovering beside him. “We need at least some of them alive, remember?”

“Of course I do,” said Graviton. He gestured to the lone guard who remained, frozen in place. It was actually because Graviton kept the man’s feet pinned to the ground. “You see? One left.”

“Good, allow me.” Moonstone descended and landed before the guard. “Would it be a cliché if I asked you to take me to your leader?”

“You might as well kill me,” said the Hydra goon. “I won’t tell you anything!”

“Is that so?” asked Moonstone. She gently placed her palms on the man’s chest, caressing it. “Such a big, strong man. I suppose you aren’t intimidated by anything, not even two people who can crush you with a thought?”

As her fingers moved over his chest, Graviton watched from above, his lips curling into a snarl. But then, Moonstone’s fingers slipped through the man’s chest, phasing inside his torso. Now as she moved them, she solidified them slightly, making him feel as if his chest were being torn to shreds. He screamed in agony, but this only caused Karla to smile.

“You misunderstand me. All we want is to make a deal with your boss. So if you could just call up Wolfgang, then we could—”

“W-Wolfgang?” asked the guard. “Where have you been, under a rock?”

Moonstone removed her fingers. “In a manner of speaking. Why?”

The guard gasped in relief, now that the pain had stopped. “Baron Strucker is dead.”

Karla turned her gaze back to Graviton. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

“I’ve been with you this whole time,” he said. “When we attacked Castle Zemo, Strucker was still in charge.”

“If Strucker is dead, then who is the Supreme Hydra?” asked Moonstone.

“His son, Andreas,” said the Hydra guard. “The Swordsman.”

Moonstone grinned. “Franklin, my dear, it looks like our lives just got a whole lot easier.”

“Trust me, Franklin. Convincing Wolfgang to enter into an alliance is the easy part. The hard part is finding him.”

Justin Hammer paused the video. The time-stamp indicated it was taken two days ago. Karla Sofen was planning to enter the arena as a new player, and that could complicate things. Since Hammer’s return from seeming death months ago, he’d managed thus far to remain below the radar. Only those in Control and a few others knew of his resurrection. And though his granddaughter proved quite capable of running his company, far more trustworthy than her mother anyway, that wouldn’t last long.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number he memorized. “Tarantula, Justin Hammer.”

“Hello, sir. The Sandman and I have spoken with the alien. She’s agreed to our offer and we will arrive momentarily.”

“Wonderful, although that isn’t why I’m calling,” said Hammer. “I want to know that we’ll be back on schedule. Our already-important meeting with the new Supreme Hydra has since become even more critical and we need to be prepared.”

“Understood. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

“Good.” Hammer hung up.

Castle Zemo

Bullseye wandered through the halls of the Castle and saw some activity around the conference room. A small group consisting of the Fixer, Killer Shrike, Jack O’Lantern and Carnage were entering the room. The door closed, with the Abomination and Blacklash remaining outside, conversing amongst themselves. Bullseye turned towards the conference room, walking for the door. The Abomination blocked his path, staring down at him with inhuman, yellow eyes.

“Can I help you, Lester?” he asked.

“What’s with the pow-wow?” asked Bullseye. “Zemo got a job lined up?”

“Were you summoned?” asked the Abomination.

“No—”

“Then it’s none of your concern.”

“What the hell’s goin’ on here, fish-face?” asked Bullseye. “I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for way too long now. Meanwhile, the ponytail crowd like Whip-Boy over here—” he gestured to Blacklash, “—seems to be gettin’ the rock star treatment. And that fruit with the yellow bird on his shirt is not only on this mission, but seems to have gotten a full dance card almost from the start. Meanwhile, you’ve got the greatest assassin in the world coolin’ his heels!”

“Maybe Zemo just knows real skill when he sees it,” said Blacklash.

Bullseye narrowed his eyes. “You think just ‘cause you got the drop on me in Baja that you’re tough shit now? It’s called a fluke, you dominatrix piece of shit.”

Blacklash flexed his wrist, the tip of his whip beginning to emerge from his gauntlet, but the Abomination held up his hand in a signal for the assassin to hold back, and then addressed Bullseye. “That is indeed a good question, Lester. Perhaps you should look inside yourself for some possible answers. If you wish, I’m sure Dr. Chen would be willing to help you with some meditation exercises.”

“That green Buddha can take those exercises an’ shove ‘em right up his radioactive ass!” Bullseye glared at Blacklash and then back at the Abomination. The gamma-irradiated former spy folded his arms and curled back his lips, slightly baring his razor-sharp teeth.

“To hell with this, there’s a Dexter marathon on,” said Bullseye before turning on his heel and storming off.

“You are aware that I won’t always be around to deter him,” said Blonsky. “I wouldn’t put it past Bullseye to try and kill you for even a perceived offense, let alone an actual one.”

“Zemo wouldn’t be too happy about that, would he?” asked Blacklash.

“I imagine the Baron would lock Lester in a room with Carnage and then leave them alone,” said Blonsky. “Bullseye is not a man who possesses what we might call long-term thinking. Perhaps it’s best not to take any chances, Mr. Scarlotti.”

Blacklash shrugged. “I really don’t give a shit. If Daredevil’s punching bag wants to take a shot at me, I’ll have the pleasure of silencing the blowhard once and for all.”

“And if it goes the other way…?”

“Then I get some peace,” said Blacklash.

“Hmm…it’s your funeral,” said the Abomination.

Baron Zemo stood at one end of the table, the Fixer by his side. Surrounding the conference table were the other three summoned Thunderbolts. Killer Shrike stood at attention, while Levins sat in one of the chairs, his Jack O’Lantern helmet resting on the table in front of him. Carnage remained in the back, the symbiote covering his entire body save for his head.

“Thank you for reporting promptly. As you are aware, we have a new operative joining you on this mission, his first task with veteran Thunderbolts.” Zemo gestured to Killer Shrike. “You are to strike at a Roxxon shipment, a shipment that contains two valuable artifacts—the Null-Bands and the Metalloid.”

Levins scratched his head. “Are we supposed to know what those things are?”

“Metalloid’s a powerful robot from the Negative Zone,” said the Fixer. “And the Null-Bands were created by the Red Star Oil Company to power a giant robot. Later, they were stolen by a renegade of the Cat-People. They’re capable of absorbing and releasing negative energy.”

“Both Metalloid and the Null-Bands are the Fixer’s concern. He will secure both devices with his own technology and once he does, you will all be transported back to the Castle,” said Zemo. “You three are responsible for disabling the security forces.”

“Pretty heavy firepower for Roxxon security forces,” said Killer Shrike.

“Correct. You are there for insurance purposes,” said Zemo. “There is a very good chance one or more rival factions will also be after this same shipment, such as Hydra or the Crimson Cowl. If that is the case, I will need you to deal with them.”

Kasady giggled as he listened to the details of the job. “I finally get to see some action?”

“That’s right, Rover—we’re letting you off the leash,” said the Fixer.

“Transport is in thirty minutes,” said Zemo. “You are dismissed until then.”

Jack O’Lantern, Killer Shrike, and the Fixer left the room. Kasady remained in the corner, giggling to himself. The Baron approached him, staring into the psychopath’s beady eyes. Kasady could see nothing through the fogged lenses of Zemo’s purple mask.

“You have been quite a disappointment up to now, Cletus. Do not let me regret my decision to reunite you with that alien you are so fond of.”

Kasady said nothing and Zemo left him alone in the conference room, shutting off the lights and closing the door. Once he was alone, Kasady began to speak. “You hear the way they talk to me? Like their better’n me?”

In his head, he could hear a voice. The voice of the symbiote speaking to him. Not yet, Cletus. I need you to stick it out just a bit longer.

“At least I’ll finally get to carve up someone,” said Kasady. “Wish I could do the same to that arrogant prick, Ebersol.”

Who says you can’t? Remember what we talked about before, how Octavius got away? This might be the chance we’ve been waiting for.

“Yeah…” Cletus’ grin grew wider. “Yeah, you’re right…”

I’m counting on you, Cletus. We’ve gotten everything we can get out of these bastards. Now’s the time to get back to doing what we do best.

“We have it on good authority that Zemo may be interested in this job as well,” said the Crimson Cowl. “I want all of you to be prepared. Remember that the Thunderbolts are to be met with extreme prejudice. If you encounter them, I want no survivors. Arthur, is the device ready?”

The Living Laser nodded and gestured to his companions, Klaw and the Trapster. “Ulysses and Pete helped me put the finishing touches on it. Once we’ve secured the Null-Bands and Metalloid, we can transport them back to the base, with the Smuggler’s help.”

An adamtantium tentacle rose into the air. “I’ve got a question.”

“Constrictor?” asked the Crimson Cowl.

“Sorry if this is a stupid one, but you just brought Lodestone an’ me onto this job, so we need a bit more specifics.” The Constrictor motioned to the woman who sat beside him. “What takes priority, the goods or killing the T-Bolts?”

“The goods,” said the Crimson Cowl. “We have no guarantee that Zemo’s stormtroopers will even show. However, if they do, there will be no shortage of reward to anyone who comes back with Thunderbolt blood on their hands.”

Baron Zemo stood in the ready room, waiting for the strike team to arrive. The Fixer was the first, intentionally getting there before any others. The Baron looked at his lieutenant. “Is all in readiness?”

The Fixer nodded. “Stage is set, we’re good to go, Helmut.”

Zemo smiled beneath his mask. “I look forward to watching this unfold. It should be more…eventful than usual. On more than one level.”

To be continued…