Without waiting for the result, she flung herself down toward the waters below as the flaming Aries crashed into the fuel cells. She had a glimpse of Virgo’s empty eyes staring up, her mouth open, and then everything washed out as the cells ignited and an explosion filled the cavern just as her head hit the water.

  She glanced back once. It was almost like staring at stained glass. Then she began swimming for the tunnel as the water above her began to boil.

  That’s it for the orrery, she thought. The burning batteries would make the chamber beneath the island a living hell for the near future. There was nothing she could do for Blonsky at the moment. Better see what she could do up top.

  * * *

  STEVE arrested his freefall by catching one of the orrery’s turning arms and swinging beneath it, tumbling so he hit the sphere representing Mars before continuing to the ground. He landed on his feet, albeit shakily, found his balance and prepared to leap aside when the globe began to incandesce. The ground beneath the contraption seemed to be swaying, as if in an earthquake.

  It wasn’t the movement of the orrery he was feeling; that had ground to a halt. The shaking sensation was in the concrete beneath his feet.

  “Oh,” he said. He leapt, springing back up onto Mars, then across to the armature supporting Uranus, and ran, even as the entire structure began to quiver violently. He leapt off the end as the center of the vast clockwork erupted, sending a dome of flame skyward and a shockwave that rushed out from the sun toward the outer planets.

  Natasha, he thought. That must have been her doing. She’d destroyed the orrery; the blasts of energy from the planets had stopped. He hoped Nat was okay, but he didn’t let it stick in him hard. She was a survivor.

  And the way back to Scorpio was clear.

  Off to the right, Thor rose up beyond the flames, whirling his hammer and hurling himself toward the Key. Strange was just behind him. The Hulk was nowhere to be seen.

  Steve started to join them, but paused. It felt as if something was pressing down on him, as if the sky was literally falling. He looked up and saw the heavens ablaze. The stars, now blindingly bright, had begun to connect themselves with strands of light. He thought he heard distant music, weird and atonal, and whispers in a language he didn’t know, in voices that were not human.

  This has to end soon, he thought. Strange’s predictions had always been somehow unreal. How could constellations “descend” from the sky? But they weren’t so much coming down as pushing through, from a place more alien than anything he’d seen in his travels with the sorcerer. They were beating against a barrier that had protected the Earth since time began, and they were winning. The invisible wall began to crumble.

  Thor streaked toward Scorpio, and half a dozen Zodiac members converged on him. The Key in Scorpio’s remaining claw looked immense.

  Then Strange was there.

  “There is no time,” he said. “I must overload the Key.”

  “Do it, then,” Steve said. Though the very thought filled him with dread, he tamped it down. There was still too much to do.

  “They will try to stop me,” the sorcerer said. “If you could hold them off, that would be excellent.”

  Above, the combined might of half of the Zodiac sent Thor crashing to Earth.

  * * *

  NATASHA pulled herself onto the island, eyes tracking the battle, trying to sort out where she was most needed. She picked out Scorpio and the Key, floating high in the air. Sprinting that way, she leapt atop one of the orrery arms and sped along it. Above she saw Thor crash into the half-a-dozen Zodiac members who had swarmed in to protect Scorpio. He went down, hard, but Natasha was behind the Zodiac leader and his protectors. Distracted by the others, they would never see her coming.

  Something reached into her mind. Something familiar, something trying to take hold her arms and limbs from the inside.

  She knew what it was, and she pushed back against it with cold fury. She saw Cancer coming at her, just a few yards away.

  “Oh, no,” she snarled. “You will not.”

  It made sense; the crab-woman wasn’t a bruiser, like some of the others. Her powers were more insidious. She was using them to guard Scorpio’s back. Of course, Cancer was now three times the size she had been, and the claws extending from her gigantic head were big enough to snip Natasha’s limbs off.

  Cancer lunged at her, trying to do just that, but Natasha shot a cable at a higher armature, using it to flip up and over the extended pincer. She came down behind her opponent and kicked her at the base of her neck, then followed that up with a ridgehand to the side of her armored head. Cancer spun, but Natasha leapt over her again, drawing her pistols and firing into the joint of arm and claw.

  The crab-woman let loose an awful, whistling shriek as the claw fell away, and for a moment seemed paralyzed by pain or shock. Natasha took that opportunity to beat Cancer until she slumped over senseless.

  * * *

  THOR struggled back to his feet. The orrery had fallen silent. The constant bursts of energy from the planets were finally subdued. He was preparing to fly back toward Scorpio when Aquarius appeared over him, taller than the greatest Jotun, a watery form bent on revenge.

  “I’ve dealt with you before,” the Asgardian said. “I can do it again.”

  He lifted Mjolnir and summoned the Bifrost.

  A small spark of electricity flashed around his enchanted mallet.

  Then Aquarius smashed him with a watery fist.

  And again.

  “No Bifrost!” Heimdall’s words vibrated through the water engulfing him. “The Mulapin descend. Asgard cannot touch this place now—it is beyond my reach.”

  That was unwelcome news. He struck with his hammer, sending lightning through Aquarius’s watery form. Bubbles formed along its path. He struck again.

  Aquarius lifted him and pounded him against the rocks, then hauled him up again. Thor leapt free, spinning his hammer at his side as his foe towered above him again. Then he hurled it.

  It missed the giant’s aqueous head by a handspan, streaking into the sky until it was lost from sight.

  Aquarius laughed. “You cannot strike down water,” he said. Then he swung his fists, battering Thor mercilessly against the stone foundations of the island. The thunder god fought back, but his opponent was right—one might as well seek to command the tides.

  With every attack he struggled back up, but each time it was more difficult.

  “So much for the might of Asgard,” Aquarius crowed. “When the Shining Herd rules, your kind will not dare to come here.”

  Thor held up his hand.

  “Do you beg for mercy?” Aquarius asked. “It is a useless gesture.”

  “No,” Thor said. “I’m just waiting.”

  “Waiting…?”

  There was a shrieking sound as Mjolnir returned from where he had thrown it, beyond the atmosphere of the planet. Its uru metal heated like a meteor, like the dying star in which it had been forged. The hammer struck the body Aquarius had formed from the Salish Sea, which instantly became a cloud of hissing steam. Continuing through, the hammer found rest in Thor’s outstretched hand.

  “Thor!”

  The thunder god turned, to see Captain America standing with Doctor Strange. The Captain was gesturing toward the sorcerer, and Thor saw why.

  Scorpio stood alone, holding the Key above his head. It was hard to see—not because it was too bright, but because its outline had begun to blur, to blend with the weird star shine from above. Scorpio’s allies were charging toward Strange and Cap.

  Leo was in the lead, alternating between two and four feet as he ran, and even on four he was as tall as a bison at the shoulder. Leaping into the fray, Thor hit him from the side and landed a solid blow, sending the big cat turning through the air to collide with the flaming ruins of the orrery.

  His next target was Taurus; Mjolnir struck her just above and between her eyes, on the slaughtering spot. Lightning struck with the blow, and she toppled back.

  Then Capricorn butted him, and he felt the cold pierce his bones, but he grabbed hold of the monster and dug his feet in, just as Cap’s shield sailed past him and knocked back the now-conjoined Gemini twins.

  Thor heaved Capricorn out toward the sea, then turned to face the momentarily stunned Gemini, calling to the storm that they had generated, struggling to turn it against them.

  THIRTY

  STEVE caught his shield and watched in appreciation as Thor knocked Leo and Taurus both down for the count, and then brought Gemini to a standstill. Libra was still bound in the magical prison Strange had summoned for her, which left Scorpio unguarded.

  The Key seemed to be vibrating, pulling streamers of energy from the sky, but also from everywhere else.

  One long, erratic coil of energy bridged the gap between Strange and Scorpio.

  “Seek cover, Captain,” Strange said. “Thor might survive this, but—”

  He was cut off as something lunged from the burning orrery. Aries—but a bigger, stronger-looking Aries. Flame licked his flesh, and the breath from his nostrils was blue-white, like a pair of acetylene torches.

  Steve charged to meet the burning ram, crouching behind his shield at the last instant, protecting himself as he put the full momentum of his attack into his shoulder. The blow numbed his arm, but he couldn’t give Aries time to react. Jamming the edge of the shield into his adversary’s jaw, he struck him again with the flat, and finally with an uppercut from his gloved right hand. He felt cloying heat all around him, but kept at it, driving Aries away from Strange.

  Then the air seemed to crack in half. He looked up and saw the Key shine brighter than the sun, and for a full two heartbeats it went brighter. But then a flash of power shot from the Key into the heart of the ruined orrery, blasting into the Earth itself. An instant later, Strange lit up like fireworks. He trembled, and jerked like a marionette controlled by an overactive child. Flames burst from his eyes and mouth, and he gasped out an unearthly syllable.

  Then the sorcerer was gone, leaving only a curling wisp of smoke where he’d been standing. Scorpio was still there, still holding the Key, and the constellations flowed as if the sky was made of syrup.

  What the hell?

  Aries, taking advantage of Steve’s pause, came back at him, trying to engulf him in flame. Whatever damage Steve had done to him in the moments before, he seemed fully recovered.

  Sweat leaked from beneath his mask and stung his eyes, and the skin of his face felt close to blistering. He landed a solid blow on his opponent, but it wasn’t obvious which of them was more hurt by it. To make matters worse, Taurus and Leo were back in the fight, closing on Thor.

  There was a gleam of gold and red in his peripheral vision, and he heard the familiar whine and pow of repulsors. Two of Iron Man’s blasts hit Aries, knocking him back.

  Stark came down next to him.

  “I’ve figured it out,” he shouted. “Heat sink. They didn’t have one last time.”

  “Heat sink?” Steve said.

  “Like when you’re soldering old-style circuits, but the soldering iron is too hot for the transistors, or the fan in a computer—never mind. Give me about two minutes. Then blast that Key again.”

  “How? Strange is gone.”

  “Thor can do it,” Tony said. “Maybe me, if I can get back in time. But tell Thor. You’ll have to get the Key out of Scorpio’s hand, though.”

  “Okay,” Steve said. “I’m on it.”

  “You need some help?”

  He spun to see Natasha, soaking wet but otherwise looking intact. Her gaze twitched past him and she fired her Widow’s Bite at Aries, who was getting back up. He dropped like a rock.

  “Always,” Steve said.

  “Hill,” he heard Tony say, “targets are painted. They’re all yours.”

  Aries was getting back up again, but then something whizzed down from the sky, knocked him forty feet, and exploded. An instant later, Taurus, Leo, and Gemini suffered the same fate.

  A little bit of cavalry never hurt, Steve mused.

  “Thor!” he shouted. “New plan!”

  Tony was gone, jetting toward the water.

  * * *

  HULK crashed through concrete and steel, some weird machines, through an inferno of smoke and flame and into water. There, his weight continued to crush him, pushing his last gulp of air slowly from his nose. The fire from Scorpio’s venom burned hotter, too, turning his guts into jelly.

  With enormous effort he managed to roll over onto his belly, and from there push himself up with his arms, folding up into a crouch and then, on wobbling legs, stand, so that his head came above the surface.

  His first aching breath was polluted with smoke, but it was better than no air at all. He took a step, trying to find a shallower place. His strange weight was starting to fade, but everything else in him was beginning to fail. He felt tired; even blinking his eyes took effort, and strength was draining from his limbs.

  He knew what was happening.

  Banner was coming back.

  Weak, puny Banner. And when he returned, the bug-man’s poison would kill him. So he had to fight; he had to stay the Hulk, or neither of them would survive. But his rage and his strength continued to ebb. He felt his shoulders slump and darkness pool at the corners of his mind.

  He fought to stay awake, to focus. What was he looking at? Something strange. A big glass jar, like a fishbowl, with someone in it. Someone who looked familiar. He was green, like Hulk—but he was asleep. Who was it? There was no other Hulk. Hulk was alone; there was nothing like him anywhere.

  And yet he felt something. Like they had met before. Painfully he took a step forward, and then another. Then one of his knees buckled, and he sank below the water again.

  What did it matter, anyway? Everyone hated the Hulk. It would be better if he was dead. Better for Banner, too. Banner hurt; Hulk wasn’t sure why. He had been happier. Now he wasn’t. Banner didn’t even really want to be Banner again, which was strange. Maybe he should just let himself sink into the water and take a breath. Take a few breaths. Fill up with water until he couldn’t breathe at all. Then everyone would be safe. No more innocent people would suffer because of Hulk or Banner. Let someone else worry about it all. Cap. Thor. Puny man with iron clothes. Let them fight, while he had peace.

  Peace was all Hulk really wanted.

  His other leg bent, and he knelt on the bottom.

  Peace, he thought.

  His eyes closed, but he saw light. He tasted it, felt it shine on his bones, felt it rinse the poison from his blood, fill him up with new strength. Banner shrank away.

  And Hulk was angry again.

  He broke from the water. Light was still all around him, pouring from the fishbowl, from the man in the fishbowl. Only green fishbowl-man was bigger now, much bigger, twice the size of Hulk. Still green, and ugly, and still asleep.

  There was someone else there, the person trying to make him think sad thoughts. The person who told Hulk to breathe in water. He was still there, still trying to make Hulk think things. He looked weird, like a combination of a snake and a fish and a person.

  “You!” Hulk shouted, and he leapt forward, fists pumping. The fish-snake-man fell back beneath the first few of his attacks. Then he dove into the water and didn’t come back up.

  Hulk stood in the water for a moment, panting, trying to remember what he was supposed to do.

  Bug-man.

  He looked up at the hole through which he’d fallen. Then he heard something come up from the water behind him. He turned around, roaring, ready to fight.

  But it was the Iron Man.

  “Whoa! Buddy!” Iron Man said. “Hulk. It’s me.”

  “Hulk sees Iron Man,” Hulk said. “Hulk goes to fight bug-man.”

  “Hang on,” Iron Man said. “We’ve got work to do down here.”

  “What work?”

  “That guy,” he said. “The green guy in there. The Zodiac is using him for a heat sink. Or an energy sink. Whenever we try to overload the Key, the overflow spills back into him. He absorbs it.”

  “So?”

  “So, we need to stop that from happening.”

  “Hulk smash green man?”

  “No,” Iron Man said. “We don’t have to smash him. We just have to get him out of there. Away from here.”

  Hulk turned toward the fishbowl.

  “Iron Man talks too much,” he said. Then he swung at the glass.

  It was harder than it looked. It took two hits to crack it, and after that it just kept splintering without really breaking, so it looked like a weird spider web. It quickly became frustrating.

  Then the Iron Man blasted it with his chest thing, and the whole thing fell apart.

  Hulk’s next breath felt funny, and his head went all spinny. He stepped back.

  “Gas,” the Iron Man said. “Some sort of gas. Get back.”

  “Hulk knows gas,” he said, shaking his head back and forth, trying to clear it.

  The big green guy stirred. He opened his eyes and looked around, blinking, mouth open.

  “Šta?” he groaned, jerking his arms, but the tubes in them pulled back. He seemed to notice his arms, then—and the rest of his body. He began screaming made-up words, words that meant nothing, ripping the wires and tubes from his body.

  Then his eyes settled on Hulk.

  “Banner!”

  “Not Banner!” Hulk yelled back.

  The green man was fast, and his punch was even harder than Thor’s best hit with his hammer—so hard that Hulk was momentarily stunned.

  “Hey, listen, wait,” he vaguely heard the Iron Man say. Then there was a loud clanging noise. When Hulk’s head was cleared, the other green guy was gone, and Iron Man was lying down.

  “Ouch,” Iron Man said.

  “Where did he go?” Hulk demanded.

  Iron Man sat up. “Not important right now, big fellah,” he said. “We’ve still got to take care of Scorpio—the bug-man. You ready?”

  “Hulk ready to smash something.”

  * * *

  THOR beat back Taurus and Leo again, but each time they recovered more quickly. He saw Aries start after Cap, who was dodging the deadly arrows of Sagittarius and lightning strikes from Gemini.

 

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