by Stuart Moore
The Hood staggered and fell back onto the sofa. He shifted his grip, keeping hold of the skull with one hand while he wiped blood from his face with his sleeve.
Kir-ra frowned. He clearly had some supernatural power, either inborn or acquired through unknown means. But as more and more energy flowed into his device, he seemed diminished, even weakened. Was the Hood the real threat here? Or was there something larger behind him, something not of this world at all?
“Why?” she shouted into the fiery maelstrom. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you! I’ve had to fight for everything in my life.” He grimaced. “This is no different.”
Ann-ya let out a plaintive wail. Kir-ra turned to see her on the floor, her figure almost lost in the blinding glow. Her hands trembled, sifting almost tenderly through the ashes of her long-dead husband.
“I killed them,” she said. “I killed them all.”
Kir-ra tensed. The kids, Ms Marvel and Halla-ar, were still unconscious. Gamora too – not that she’d trust that woman. And Ann-ya was deep in her trauma, lost in a pit of sorrow and regret.
It’s up to me, Kir-ra realized. I’m the one who brought the Hood here; I’ve got to take him out, even if it kills me. She tensed herself, prepared to leap. If she could just knock that skull out of his hands–
Ann-ya let out a piercing scream. Energy flared, brighter than ever, a tidal wave of power slamming, burning, flooding into the skull. Its eyes flared bright, its circuitry glowed and sparked. The Hood struggled to keep hold of it, his body arching in pain.
Then, all at once, the glow faded. Ann-ya slumped to the floor as the radiance left her body.
Only the skull still shone with power. Blinding, pulsing, throbbing white-hot. Like a sun captured inside a child’s snow globe.
The Hood stared at it, eyes wide… and in those eyes, flames rose up in response. “It burns,” he whispered. Then he rose, stumbled once, and turned to Kir-ra.
“Well,” he said. “I guess the chase is over.”
He’s going to kill me, she thought. He got what he wanted, and now I’m going to die. She’d failed again. Failed to save her grandmother, her brother, and the Earth girl too. Even Gamora, the assassin-for-hire, shouldn’t have to die this way.
The Hood grinned. She had the strange feeling he was feeding off her hopelessness – sucking it in, allowing it to fuel his hatred and evil. Just as his device, whatever it was, had absorbed the death-energy of her world.
Then his face fell, and for an instant he looked human again. “Don’t come after me,” he said. “You’ll regret it.”
He took off at a run and sped past her, using his powers to literally sprint up into the air. He stepped over Ann-ya’s fallen form and soared over the armchair, clutching the skull-device tight to his body. Then he crashed shoulder-first into the broken window, shattering it, and leaped out into the night.
Kir-ra fell to her knees, exhausted and traumatized. Ann-ya lay perfectly still; Halla-ar and Ms Marvel were also down. A minute, Kir-ra thought. I just need a minute to catch my breath.
But in the corner of the room, the assassin was stirring…
Chapter 45
Natasha edged closer to Rhodey and Captain America, tucking herself in between the two stone benches. “The Guardians,” she said. “I thought there’d be more of them.”
Cap nodded grimly. The Guardians’ ship trembled slightly in the open parking area. Peter Quill had emerged from the gangplank, but when he motioned inside the ship, only Groot followed him out.
“No Drax,” Cap said. “I was hoping for Drax.”
“Is he the big guy?” Rhodey held up his damaged machine-gun arm. “We could use some muscle out here.”
Cap lifted his head up briefly, making a quick survey of the area. Tony Stark and Doctor Voodoo stood several stone benches away, lit by irregularly spaced lampposts. They seemed dazed, their movements stiff. Were they fighting the entity that controlled them? Or just waiting for new instructions?
Most of the stores were abandoned: diner, convenience store, liquor store. The pizza parlor, off to the right, was the only thing open, next to a hardware store with signs reading FINAL WEEK! Across the lot, two trucks stood in front of an abandoned grocery store. One was labelled OSCORP CHEMICAL.
And on the other side of the wide street, the housing project rose up like a dark leviathan. Whatever happened, Cap knew, the battle had to be kept away from those houses. Too many innocents, too many potential casualties.
“Stark!” Peter Quill marched across the parking lot, arms wide. “What’s the matter, huntin’ planet-killers too much for you? Decided to call in the big boys?”
“I am Groot,” Groot warned.
“Quill, you idiot!” Rocket flew up behind them on his aero-rig. “I didn’t call you here to help Stark. I called you to whoooaa what now?”
Tony Stark’s head twitched. His eyes flashed red. Rocket’s rig sparked, sputtered, and veered up out of control. He bailed out, leaping off with all four limbs flailing. Groot stretched out a pair of branches and caught him.
The aero-rig swooped up, riderless, and lurched in a jagged course through the air. Cap leaped up, afraid it would hit the pizza parlor; there could be civilians in there. But the rig jerked right at the last minute and crashed through the window of the hardware store.
“Hey!” Rocket wriggled free of Groot’s grasp. “My ride!”
Tony turned toward them, raising one glowing palm. Voodoo watched him, but made no other move.
“Stop!” Cap yelled.
Steeling himself, he started across the battlefield toward Tony and Voodoo. Natasha let out a sigh and followed, with Rhodey just behind.
“Hope you’ve got a plan, Steve,” Natasha muttered.
“Working on it,” he whispered.
The Avengers and Guardians converged in a cleared area, between the tables. Voodoo watched them advance, but made no move. Tony’s head twitched back and forth, turning toward one group, then the other. It was impossible to read his expression through that helmet, but Cap knew he’d got his attention.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” Cap said, forcing himself to face Tony and Voodoo directly. “But I know one thing: something is controlling you.”
Again, anger flashed in Voodoo’s eyes.
“You’re wastin’ your time, Cap,” Rocket said. “Stark never listens to nobody.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he’s being controlled,” Quill said. “Nothing could get through that tree-stump of a head. No offense, Groot.”
“I am Groot,” Groot allowed.
“Hey Stark!” Rocket called. “Just curious. When you ruthlessly exploited several hundred immigrant workers, was that you doin’ it or was someone ‘controlling’ you?”
Tony’s eyes glowed again; he took a step back. Again, Cap wondered: is he listening? Is any of this getting through to him?
“Steve,” Natasha hissed. “The plan?”
“It’s a waiting game,” he replied. “Until your backup gets here…”
A streak of light appeared above the housing project, shooting through the sky over the street. Cap frowned; was it a comet? No – the motion was irregular, unnatural. And within the glow… a human form…
“The Hood,” Cap said.
Parker Robbins strode through the air, stepping his way down as if he were descending an invisible staircase in the sky. He leaped over Cap’s head and came to rest on the pavement, between Stark and Doctor Voodoo. They made no move to acknowledge his arrival.
“Well. Here we all are.” The Hood held a skull rigged up with odd circuitry, glowing with power.
“Where’s the woman?” Cap demanded. “The Kree you brought here?”
“Brought her? She brought me.” The Hood wiped blood from a fresh wound on his cheek. “Didn’t work out, though.”
“What do you want, Robbins?” Natasha demanded. “And what is that head-shop gizmo in your hand?”
“This?” The Hood held up the brightly glowing skull. “This little marvel is possibly the greatest fusion of science and magic ever constructed on Earth. I don’t understand a single microcircuit of it myself, but that’s why god gave us IT people. And wizards.”
Rhodey held up his remaining weapon-hand. “Shall I take it out?”
“Too risky.” Cap held up a hand. “We have no idea how much power is contained in that thing.”
“Oh, a lot. A lot of power.” The Hood smiled. “All the stored power of that sadly departed world, Prakitus.”
“Praeterus.” Quill stepped forward, fists clenched. “The planet’s name was Praeterus.”
The Hood shrugged. “Whatever.”
Cap struggled to assess the situation. The skull’s glow was too bright to stare at directly. Tony was clearly possessed – or mesmerized, or something. Doctor Voodoo stood very still; every once in a while his face twitched. What was going on with him?
“Listen, creepazoid,” Rocket said. “You know we ain’t gonna let you just leave with that skull-thing.”
“I am Groot. I am Groot.”
“Oh, my friends will keep you busy,” the Hood replied. “Not forever, but long enough for me to find the tool I need.”
“And then?” Cap asked.
The Hood stiffened for a moment. Flames rose up in his eyes, then settled down again. “And then,” he said, “the Earth will die.”
The air seemed colder, suddenly.
“Huh,” Rocket said.
“Yeah, that’s a conversation stopper,” Quill added.
“Robbins,” Cap said, “you’re not some galactic warlord or godlike entity. Earth is your home.”
The Hood’s eyes turned dark. “Earth never did anything for me.”
“All the same,” Natasha said, “if the world goes splat, won’t you die with it?”
“The Master will take care of me.”
“You sure about that?”
“No.” He shot her a hard glare. “But if not, that’s just one less white trash kid from the Bronx.”
“That would almost be sad,” Rocket observed, “if it wasn’t comin’ from a sociopath with a mystic weapon burnin’ a hole in his hand.”
A quinjet roared past overhead, moving at full speed. It braked, executed a sudden turn, and dropped down to land behind the shopping center, out of sight.
“Last chance, boys.” Natasha smiled. “If I were you, I’d surrender now.”
All eyes turned to a walkway between two abandoned stores, leading to the back parking lot. A slim figure in a light jacket strode out and stopped short, staring at the assemblage of super-powered people.
“Hi, Bruce,” Natasha said.
“Hey, I know that dude. That dude’s the Hulk!” Quill turned to shake his head at Hood and Voodoo. “Oh, you guys are in for it. You are in for it now.”
“You really are,” Rocket agreed. “When the Hulk throws down? It’s a world of hurt.”
Bruce Banner stepped forward. He flashed Natasha a quick glance, then turned to face the Hood. He raised both hands and, slowly, clenched them into fists.
“Backup’s here,” he said, a dangerous look crossing his face.
Cap took a step back, instinctively, as Banner began to transform. The scientist’s fists trembled and his muscles began to swell. An emerald tinge began to creep across his skin.
“A world of hurt,” Quill repeated, grinning. “A world? Try a whole solar system.”
“Yeah! A flarkin’ solar system!” Rocket thought for a second. “Maybe a whole Hurt Galaxy?”
“Oh, that’s a whole lot of hurt right there!”
Then Cap noticed something. The Hood’s eyes were wide – but not with fear. He seemed hungry, delighted. Almost giddy with anticipation.
“Oh,” the Hood said. “Oh, this is perfect.” He raised the glowing skull. “I thought I’d have to find you, but here you are!”
Again, flames filled the Hood’s eyes. When he continued, his voice sounded louder, echoing through the night. “ALL MY PLANS FALL INTO PLACE. SOON THIS WORLD WILL FOLLOW PRAETERUS INTO OBLIVION.”
That’s not Parker Robbins speaking, Cap realized. That’s his Master… the unseen force behind all this!
“Let’s skip to the fun part,” the Hood said. He raised the skull into the air and fired off a burst of energy from its mouth.
Power arced through the night air, lighting up the sky. It struck Banner in mid-transformation, spreading out to cover him in a corona of energy. He shook his head and let out a puzzled growl – half Banner, half Hulk. Then he arched his back and screamed.
Peter Quill snapped his faceplate closed and drew his gun. “What the hell?”
The power continued to flow, blazing from the skull-device into Banner. The Hood cried out in pain and fell to his knees but held on tight to the device. Cap tensed and cast a quick glance at Natasha. Her eyes were wide.
“I am Groot!” Groot cried.
“Yup, just like the psycho said,” Rocket stared. “That’s Praeterus, all right. What’s left of it, anyway. That’s the power the dome-machine was tapping, from the core of the planet.”
Banner’s scream ranged up and down in pitch, settling into a deep growl. He began to change, to grow larger. Soon he was fully Hulk-sized, the living weapon the Avengers knew so well.
Then he kept growing.
“Gamma power,” Rocket continued. “Gamma… oh. Oh, flark.”
“Come on,” Cap said. “Move!”
He ushered Natasha and War Machine away. The Guardians followed, looking back warily. Together they sought shelter against the Guardians’ ship, ducking down under one wing.
Stark and Voodoo stood perfectly still, watching the Hood. “Oh,” Hood said, grimacing. “Oh, this does hurt.”
The Hulk’s growl became deafening. A thick green aura surged around him, radiating outward. As it passed through the group, one by one the assembled heroes clutched their heads and cried out in pain. Cap felt himself thrown backward; Rhodey struck the hull of the ship with a loud clang. Groot sprouted new shoots to hold his teammates in place.
The power flared brighter. The figure that had been Banner became larger, thicker, more menacing. A metallic gleam sprouted from his shoulder.
The aura struck the shopping center, shattering every window this side of the pizza parlor. Trees flew through the air; lampposts snapped in half and took flight. Fierce winds blew; giant cracks appeared in the pavement.
The Hood let out a cry as the skull in his hands went abruptly dark. He fell to the ground, stunned.
Then the Hood, like everything else, was lost in the green glare. The creature, the thing that had been Banner, was now at least eight feet tall. Spiked armor on his shoulders and legs reflected the blinding energies all around. He held a huge, deadly axe in one hand.
“Oh no,” Cap said.
“Uh…” Quill gestured at the figure. “I, um, I don’t remember the Hulk looking quite so… metal.”
“That’s not the Hulk,” Natasha said. “Not the one you know, anyway.”
“I, uh… I am Groot?”
The green man turned his eyes to the heavens, and let out a roar that shook the Earth.
“That is Narushitel’ mira,” Natasha explained. “The World-Breaker.”
Part Seven
World-Breaker
Chapter 46
The World-Breaker stood once more on Earth. The planet of his birth; the planet that had felt his most terrible wrath, seen his greatest displays of power and his deepest outpourings of grief. The world, most of all, where he had experienced utter, humiliating defeat at the hands of his enemies.
Some of those enemies had gathered bene
ath him. The Iron Man; the woman with stinging arms. The man with disk and wings, the Machine of War. Other puny beings stood with them: Space Cowboy, Rat with Hands, Moving Shrub. A pale man with a skull in his hand, and a purple-cloaked Black man who reeked of magic.
The World-Breaker growled, hefting his immense axe. Power surged through him, power tinged with a flavor he’d never tasted before. It fueled his rage, fed his fire like pure oxygen. This, he knew, was his time. His control over this body, over the monster that lived within the human Banner, was now complete.
And at last, his enemies would perish. Even now they skittered and chattered on the ground, glancing up at him with fear. The World-Breaker smiled. Good, he thought. Be afraid. Soon, in your last minutes, you will know what real fear is.
He lifted one foot, relishing the sight of his enemies scattering. Then, for just a moment, he hesitated. Remembered a call for help, the sweet voice of the stinger-woman. A hasty flight in a metal bird, bringing him here for some desperate, forgotten purpose.
He snarled, banishing those thoughts to the graveyard of the past. Then he brought down that massive foot as hard as he could, cracking tar and soil with an impact that shook the world.
•••
In the royal laboratory of Wakanda, alarms blared. Voices crackled over handheld comms; reams of data scrolled down screens. Lights strobed red, signaling the kingdom’s highest level of alert.
“Brother,” Shuri said, “please silence that alarm? I’m trying to analyze this.”
T’Challa, son of T’Chaka, smiled at the request. His sister was the only citizen of Wakanda who thought nothing of issuing orders to the king – even when he wore the ceremonial uniform of the Black Panther, guardian of their people.
He moved to comply, but Okoye, his personal guard, was quicker. “I have it, my king,” she said, punching in a code on a wall panel.
T’Challa nodded and crossed the room to join Shuri. She stood over a table with a full-sized monitor built in, her small hands swiping at a hundred overlapping windows.
“Is it a seismic disturbance?” he asked.