Marvel's Avengers: The Extinction Key, page 6
He swung his fists like crazy, but there was nothing to hit as the street and buildings below grew smaller and smaller. Then once again a flash of light surged inside of him, and he was falling.
* * *
EMIL remembered a young woman staring at him, reaching out to touch him. Then a sharp pain like an electrical shock, and after that—nothing.
He regained consciousness to the sound of approaching sirens. Gagging, he reached up to the security desktop and used it to pull himself to his feet. Everything was hazy, still spinning, but he managed to stand. What had she hit him with? A Taser? A drugged dart?
Emil found himself staring at a gigantic hole in the wall.
“Šta je ovo?” he grunted. Unsnapping the holster of his sidearm, he drew the pistol out, checked to make sure he had one in the chamber, then groggily walked through the gaping hole.
Where he nearly fell into a big hole in the street. Bricks and concrete rubble were strewn everywhere, and half of the nearby buildings looked as if they had been blasted with dynamite. The air was full of dust; sparks sprayed and cascaded from torn wiring. Had the woman who touched him done all of this?
No, there was an easier answer.
Banner.
Yet the Hulk was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Emil didn’t see anyone, except a long-haired blond guy without a shirt gazing up at the night sky.
California, he thought.
His vision focused better as the man turned to look at him. The fellow’s eyes had a weird glow to them, and he had shards of lightning for fingernails.
“Hey,” Emil shouted, raising his pistol but not quite pointing it at the guy. “You. Get down on the ground.”
The shining eyes focused on him. Then the man began to run toward him.
Seriously?
“Last warning,” he shouted.
He’d seen it before. Men so pumped with adrenaline or drugs or holy zeal they didn’t recognize death staring right at them. Emil had hoped all of his killing was behind him, but sometimes there was no choice. This wasn’t his fault.
His first shot was at long range, and although he aimed to hit, he figured he wouldn’t, and it would serve as a warning. To his mild surprise, the blond man stumbled slightly. Grazed maybe, but he wasn’t stopping. The man was stupid or crazy, and Emil didn’t have the luxury of trying to figure out which.
Taking careful aim, he squeezed off two, three more shots. The first missed, kicking up dust from the pavement. The next two hit; he saw the impacts. The weird thing was that both of them flashed white, as if they were detonating rounds or something. Too late, he understood. He should have gotten it earlier. If the Hulk was involved, other monsters couldn’t be far behind.
And this was a monster. His exposed torso was thick, banded with muscle, and did not taper at the waist. His shoulders hunched forward and his arms came out more like forelegs, bent and terminating in those road-flare claws. He was much bigger than he looked at a distance. His nose was both flattened and protruding; his teeth were sharp.
Lav, Emil thought. A freaking lion.
The charging beast-man leapt. Emil tried to sidestep and club him with the butt of the gun, but he was still woozy. The creature tackled him, hitting him below the waist and lifting. Emil dropped the gun to shield his head and neck as he was smashed into the pavement. His instincts kicked in, and he tucked and rolled out of it, but a hand slapped his chest and he felt claws score across his skin. His breath sucked in and he fell back, watching in shock as blood appeared and quickly began soaking his shirt.
The lion kicked him, hard, and then turned and trotted off.
No, Emil thought. That wasn’t the end of it. He wouldn’t be so easily knocked aside. This was his job. He pushed himself up on blood-slicked hands and stumbled over to his gun. He picked it up, but thought better of using it. It hadn’t worked before. He needed something more powerful.
The answer was obvious, and parked only a few feet away. His truck. He dug out the keys, trying to ignore the blood soaking his shirt, crawled in, and started the engine.
The lion didn’t notice him until he was almost there.
It was like hitting a concrete pylon, and Emil was glad the old vehicle didn’t have airbags. The impact knocked the lion off his feet. Emil threw the machine in reverse, backed up, and hit him again, knocking him further down the street toward the docks.
Screw you and your super-powers, he thought.
The lion was standing back up. He hit him again.
This time, things didn’t go as well. The monster sank his claws into the hood and hung on. Emil gunned it, aiming toward a warehouse next to the dock, but the lion planted his feet, dug into the concrete, and lifted.
It happened so fast, Emil didn’t react at first. He and the truck were in the air, and then the monster hurled it. Emil felt the light belly of free fall, and then the car slammed into the water, hard.
* * *
THE pavement cracked under him as the Hulk crashed into it. Roaring, he swiped at the mist-woman, who danced just out of reach. Taunting him.
Beyond her he saw the lion-man toss a car into the water. He wouldn’t have thought much of that, except that in the streetlights he could see a man was inside the car. Probably someone who had nothing to do with the fight. Someone just in the way.
That made him even madder. Why did they have to hurt someone like that? He was like Hulk—he hadn’t done anything. Didn’t deserve to get hurt. But they were trying to kill him!
Raging, he leapt toward the car.
The yellow-hair met him in midair, and they both went sprawling. He rolled, limbs swinging, blasting fragments from the asphalt as the lion flipped and wriggled maddeningly out of reach.
Hulk almost caught him, but then the stupid mist-woman was there again. She grabbed him and everything went funny—he felt light and heavy at the same time. Something sucked at him, pulled him right down until he couldn’t see anything but darkness. He’d sunk into the street like it was quicksand.
Then it was solid again, and he was inside of it, where he couldn’t breathe.
* * *
BLONSKY knew he must have blacked out again. He was still in the car, and for an instant, he didn’t understand why it was so dark outside. The headlights were shining, but nothing much was visible except little bits of stuff, as if he was in a midnight snowstorm. And he had the feeling he was facing down.
And he was wet up past his waist.
Then he got it. The lion had tossed him into the water. The truck was sinking, quickly. The weight of the engine had already turned the vehicle nose-down.
He didn’t usually panic easily, and he didn’t now. The truck was already completely underwater, so he knew trying to open the doors was no use; the pressure was too great.
Taking off his seat belt, he hit the electric window opener; it whined a little, but nothing happened, which meant he must already be pretty deep.
That left breaking the window. He slammed it with his fist, but it was like hitting a wall. He tried his elbow, with no better result. The cab was filling up quickly, and his head was spinning, either from lack of air or blood loss or both.
Then he remembered he still had the gun. It was wet, but it might still work. He unholstered it, placed the muzzle against the glass, and pulled the trigger.
The pin clocked on an empty chamber.
Swearing, he pulled back his hand to hit the glass with the pistol, but at that moment, the truck crashed into the bottom, hurling him down and into the windshield. He heard something snap as once again his skull filled with darkness.
* * *
HULK heaved and flexed at the concrete and rebar in which he was embedded, trying to howl. His huge lungs heaved against his ribs, feeling red, angry that they could no longer suck in breath. He pulled in on himself, trying to roll up into a ball, and then flexed out with every fiber of his muscle and bone. Something cracked, then shattered, then exploded as he burst up from his entombment.
The lion-man was there, roaring. Blazing argent light struck Hulk point-blank, sending him hurling through the third story of an old brick building. The lion came right after, slashing, biting, but as before, Hulk felt revived, full of energy. They grappled, crushing their way through that building and the next, the lion-man’s strength failing beneath his onslaught.
Then they fell, turning…
Until they hit the water. The lion opened his mouth, and again the white light shone. The water exploded into steam. Hulk yelled and thrashed, trying to land a blow on the guy, but he struck only water until he hit the bottom, where he braced his feet and pushed.
He erupted out of the bay and came down on the docks. Yanking his head this way and that, he searched for either of his attackers, ready to pound them into pulp.
Then he remembered the man and the car. There was no sign of them, but he remembered where they sank. Diving back into the bay, he swam downward with broad strokes until he dimly made out twin beams of light in the murk, and found the car resting on the bottom. Hulk clenched his fingers into the grill and hauled the car up with several kicks of his powerful legs, pushing against the weight.
Breaking the surface, he dragged it up onto the dock, yanked the door open so the water flooded out.
There were flashing lights everywhere. He knew what that meant. These people had come to help the others, but he knew from experience they might shoot at him. He also knew the people who came with the flashing lights were people he wasn’t supposed to hurt—and he didn’t want to.
He wanted to hurt the mist-woman and the lion. He would find them and make them sorry they had ever messed with Hulk. Roaring a challenge, he swept his savage gaze around and saw the lion-man, perched on a building above.
Stamping so hard that the street beneath his feet shattered, he leapt toward him.
The lion stood as still as a statue until Hulk was almost there, then dodged to the side, sinking his flashing claws into Hulk’s arm and twisting, using his momentum against him, hurling him to the side and slashing at his chest with the other hand.
Once again, Hulk felt the shock of having his skin pierced; only the bones protecting his heart stopped the deadly blow. He caught onto the lion’s arm and hurled him at the ground. An instant before he crashed into the broken streets, however, the mist-woman appeared and grabbed the lion’s hand.
They both vanished in a puff of air.
Hulk leapt down after them, swiping at the space they had just occupied, but they were gone. Landing with a loud impact, he howled his frustration.
Humans were everywhere now, many of them screaming. He heard gunfire and felt the sting of a bullet on his skin. It didn’t hurt that much, but it made him mad, mad enough he almost forgot he wasn’t supposed to hurt these people. He had to leave. Get away. They all hated him anyway, no matter what he did. Hurt someone, save someone. They didn’t care. Banner was too stupid to see that, but Hulk wasn’t.
As a second shot struck him, he bent his knees and leapt, rushing into the foggy sky and leaving the rest behind him.
EIGHT
TONY thought Maria Hill looked impressed. That was difficult to achieve, but to be fair, blowing a hole through a block of Vibranium-laced titanium was, well—impressive.
“I’ve been playing with some of the energy profiles you dropped on me,” he explained. “You know, the ones from the really ‘out there’ sources.”
“To good effect, I’d say,” Hill said.
“It meets your required metrics, and then some,” he pointed out.
“It does,” she replied. “Good work, Stark.”
“Which begs the question, Commander Hill. What the hell do you expect to be shooting with this thing?”
Hill turned a gaze on him as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa’s.
“Oh,” she said, “you never know. They say too often generals are gearing up to fight the last war, right? But we can’t afford to be behind the curve. Not with everything we know is out there, and even more because of everything we don’t know about. We’re trying to get ready to fight the war-after-next.”
“I thought that was what the Avengers were for.”
“Never hurts to have a plan B.”
“I guess not,” he said. “Wait. Are we plan B, or—?”
“Is it true?” she interrupted. “What I hear about Banner?”
“He’s taking a little ‘me’ time in San Francisco, if that’s what you mean.”
“So he’s unsupervised,” she said.
“Well, he’s a grown man and a brilliant scientist,” Tony replied. “But if you want to look at it that way—”
“It’s the only way we can look at it,” she said.
“Well, I suggest you go tell him that, then,” Tony replied. “Anyhow, we’ve got our Norse god back. That should make you happy.”
“Overjoyed,” she said. “If he stays, which isn’t a given.”
“How was the interview?”
“It went well enough. We tend to agree with him that the objects of his latest adventure probably don’t pose an immediate threat to Earth—not least because if he’s telling the truth, he and his pals beat the living snot out of them. Frankly, I’m more worried about what Captain Marvel has gotten into.”
Speaking of mysterious subjects, Tony thought. From what he knew, Danvers could probably handle the Hulk and Thor at the same time without working up a sweat. But she wasn’t usually around. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“You’ve talked with her?”
“No,” Hill replied. “Not for a while. That’s what worries me.”
“So,” he said, “there’s a recent uptick in the alien activity in our solar system. A big one. Does SHIELD have any theories as to why?”
She pursed her lips. “It coincides neatly with the rise of enhanced individuals on Earth, don’t you think?”
He’d noticed that, of course, but he already knew what he thought. What interested him was what Hill thought, or knew.
“As in the aliens are responsible for the growing number of superhumans,” he said, “or as in we’re starting to draw their attention? Chicken or the egg?”
“Amniotic eggs started with reptiles,” she said. “Hundreds of millions of years before chickens.”
“You’re evading the question.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “I’m telling you—it isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You mean like when Thor used to pal around with the Vikings? Because sometimes he goes on about that, and he won’t shut up.” Tony rolled his eyes.
“It’s way bigger than that,” she said. “We’re still putting it together, but whatever happened back then, we went a long time without interference from… out there. Some of us think the break is over.”
“But again, why?” he asked. “Why now, and not fifty years ago?”
“Well…” she said, but she let it hang.
“Oh, come on.”
Hill shook her head.
“Enough of that,” she said, pointing to the weapon. “Tell me about this.”
“Pulsar tech,” he said.
“Like your repulsors?”
“That’s proprietary,” Tony said, “so I’m going to say no. Also, because the principles really aren’t the same. Any other questions?”
“How well does it scale up?” she asked.
“You want a bigger cannon than that?”
“If a bigger cannon is more powerful, yes.”
He looked at the demolished block of metal. “What did you say you were planning on fighting?”
“Like I said—”
“Right. You’re not sure. No idea.” He shrugged. “But your specs seemed oddly specific.”
“This isn’t your first dance, Stark. Are you going to let me lead, or do I find a different partner?”
“Nope,” he said. “You can lead all day, so long as you pay me.”
She sighed and folded her arms.
“Just give us the prototype, the specs, the blueprints—we’ll take it from there and let you know if we need anything. Sound good?”
“I’m happy to oblige,” he said. “And we already have a legally binding contract, so—”
“What’s that?” Hill asked, looking off to one side.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“No, but I think your security system is.”
She was right. He’d turned the volume down for the meeting.
“JARVIS,” he said. “What is it?”
“It’s Doctor Banner, sir,” the computer said. “I’m afraid there’s been an incident.”
“What? Define ‘incident.’”
“It’s the Hulk, sir.”
Hill’s phone made a noise. She pulled it out, scrolled, and frowned a little.
“Yeah,” she said. “No kidding. Better get on that.”
“He’s in San Francisco,” Tony said. “Does SHIELD have a base out there?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Our nearest Helicarrier is halfway around the world. We could probably have a team there in five hours, but it’s the Hulk, so—”
“As fast as your floating fortress may be, it’s still a big ship, and takes time to get from one place to another,” Tony said. “We can be there quicker.”
Hill continued scrolling on her phone. “There’s not much information, but it looks like enhanced individuals are involved. Nobody we’ve heard of.”
“Wow,” he said. “Nat’s enhanced assailants were new, too. Now more? These guys are really coming out of the woodwork. JARVIS, prep the Quinjet and alert Nat, Cap, and Thor.”
* * *
THE Quinjet, wonder of engineering that it was, had its limits. Its maximum speed topped out at just over Mach 2, which meant that by the time the craft was prepped, everyone was on board, and they reached maximum airspeed, nearly three hours had elapsed before they reached San Francisco.
