Target: Kree

by Stuart Moore

  “You know,” she said, “you really don’t look like much.”

  He turned sharp eyes to her. They were human now, with no trace of those unearthly flames. But they burned all the same.

  “My father used to say that,” he hissed. “Before he dragged me into the cellar for a beating.”

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” She stared at him, aghast. “You murdered my friends, used me against my family. You destroyed my world!”

  “Me? I’ve never been off this planet. It was your beloved grandmother who trashed the old Kree homestead.”

  “There’s no difference.” She glared at him, thumbed her power-rod to life. “You’ve all got that thing inside you.”

  “Yeah, but it works in different ways. Grandma and me, we made a willing deal with the Master. The industrialist here didn’t have that choice…though he’s a card-carrying member of the gang now. And our expert in Haitian mysticism – well, he’s complicated.”

  A deafening roar filled the air: the Hulk, raging again. Kir-ra flinched, but didn’t turn to look. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the Hood.

  “And now our work is done,” he continued. “The Hulk will crack this world in half, just as dear old Grandma lit the fuse that ignited hers. The Master prefers to use locals to do his dirty work… the irony is almost as sweet as the pain, he says.”

  “And then what?” she asked. “More worlds, more death, more destruction? Planet after planet, one after another, across the universe?”

  “OH NO, CHILD.”

  She started, took a step back. The flames filled his eyes now, and the voice was not his own.

  “THEN COMES THE INVASION.”

  Flame spat from his mouth, dark and magical. She flinched away as it engulfed her, burning her skin. She staggered backward and fell to the pavement, her power-rod rolling away.

  When she looked up, the Hood was staring down at her. The flame was gone, as if purged from his system. His eyes looked almost sad.

  “So long, dancer,” he said.

  Then he turned to Iron Man. “Kill her, OK?” And before she could climb to her feet, he was walking up into the air, mounting that invisible stairway to vanish in the darkness.

  She struggled to rise, desperate to pursue him. But she’d barely pushed herself up to her knees when Iron Man appeared to block her way. He moved awkwardly, his servos whining in protest. Both the man and the suit, she knew, were damaged.

  “Stark,” she said.

  His eye-lenses pulsed, glowing bright. He raised an arm and fired; she rolled aside, wincing as his repulsor-beam blasted a hole in the pavement. She glanced across the pavement at her power-rod: too far away.

  “Stop it!” she cried, tumbling to her feet.

  He fired again – once, twice. She danced aside, easily dodging the blasts.

  “Sloppy aim, Stark,” she said. “You’re not really trying to kill me, are you?”

  The next blast came much closer.

  “Well, maybe part of you is.” She shook her hand in the air, feeling the heat of the near-miss on her fingers. “But I think you’re fighting the influence of this… this Master. Whatever it is.”

  She shifted side to side like a boxer, waiting for an opening. When it came, she dropped to a crouch, rolled past an uprooted stone table, and snatched up her power-rod in both hands. Stark’s head jerked, his eye-lenses following her movements.

  “OK. OK, listen to me.” She backed away, holding up the rod. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that helmet. I don’t know what usually goes on in your head! But…”

  He raised a hand, glowing with power – then lowered it again. His body went stiff again, the glow fading from his eye-lenses.

  Hands trembling, she lowered the power-rod. This was crazy, she knew. In that armor, he could vaporize her with a single blast. And she had no reason, no rational basis for trusting this man. At best, he’d been criminally negligent in his treatment of her people; at worst, he had systematically victimized and preyed on them.

  But she’d spoken with Stark, looked into his eyes. And if the Kree were to survive here on Earth – assuming there was an Earth left after this! – then maybe someone had to take a chance. A first tentative step onto a new path.

  “Stark,” she said. “Do you remember what you said to me? Out on the dock?”

  She dropped the rod, let it clatter again to the ground. His blank lenses followed it as it bounced once, twice.

  “Whatever is happening,” she said, “it ends today. I swear it.”

  Chapter 49

  Gamora landed hard against the garbage truck, bashing a two-foot dent in the door. She struggled, sprang free, and landed on her feet, then reeled briefly.

  She’d been hit on the head a lot lately. That, she vowed, was over.

  She looked around, getting her bearings. The truck stood parked in front of the abandoned grocery store with the caved-in roof. Straight ahead, the Hulk stood ten feet tall, glowing with radiant power.

  Captain America and Natasha faced off against the Hulk, standing at different levels on top of… something. Gamora squinted and made out a network of wooden trunks and vines, forming a multileveled platform. She smiled; Groot had pulled this trick before. At the siege of Fortus Prime, he’d formed himself into an entire organic fortress for the Guardians’ grueling, two-day assault. Now he was providing the same support for the Avengers.

  War Machine swooped around in the air, squeezing off shots like a biplane buzzing King Kong. He swung in close and managed to land a bullet on the Hulk’s face, just below that massive eye. The Hulk raged, growled, and swept a hand through the air. Rhodey jetted upward just in time, but the air current knocked him off balance, sending him tumbling off through the night sky.

  The Hulk roared in frustration, raising both fists. The green aura, the blazing power, fanned out from his gigantic armored form, blasting the outer wall of the grocery store. In that power, that rage, Gamora saw the same energies that had destroyed Praeterus. She saw the face of the little girl, lost in the fire, and she knew her quest was not over. Not as long as that rage remained loose in the universe.

  She had to stop it from consuming another world.

  Natasha called out a few words to Groot. He stretched out a thick plank of a branch; she leaped onto it and took off, sprinting toward the Hulk. Cap yelled out a warning, gesturing for her to stay back. She ignored him and charged, both stingers firing.

  The Hulk barely turned to look. He let out a roar and reached out, grabbing the Groot-plank in both hands. Then, planting his legs firmly on the pavement, he thrust his arms out to either side, ripping the entire platform apart.

  Groot screamed. Natasha flew into the air. Cap tumbled in the opposite direction, landing on the ground with a hard thud.

  The Hulk raised his head, eyes glowing, and stared at the housing project across the street. Oh no, Gamora thought. He’s going to flatten that place, kill hundreds of people. Then he’ll move on to the next building, and the next, and…

  A figure caught her eye, moving along the row of stores. A kid, no more than fourteen, had emerged from the pizza parlor and stopped short, watching with terrified eyes. He wore an apron stained with tomato sauce and a hat with a picture of a stylized chef throwing a pizza pie up into the air.

  He works there, Gamora realized. Poor kid’s probably been hiding out inside while we turned his parking lot into a battle zone!

  The Hulk turned slowly, leaned down to stare at the kid, and let out a fearsome growl. Gamora watched with mounting horror. She had no idea what this version of the Hulk was capable of. Would he actually murder a teenager in cold blood? She couldn’t afford to find out.

  She drew her sword and ran, screaming and howling like a madwoman. At first the Hulk just furrowed his brow, as if an insect were buzzing in his ear. Then he turned toward her.
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  The boy blinked, dropped his fries, and ran off.

  Mission accomplished, she thought, as a huge shadow moved to cover her.

  The Hulk picked her up in both hands, squeezing her tight. He brought her up to his face and roared again, a foul wind that buffeted her like a hurricane. She struggled for something to say – something soothing that might calm him, make him loosen his grip–

  “I will toast your rotting carcass!” she gasped.

  Oh, well.

  The Hulk growled in fury, clenching his fists tighter. His grip was like a vise; the power radiating out from him was almost inconceivable. He seemed overwhelmed by that power, lost in its fire, as much its victim as its master.

  Gamora scanned the area, searching for help. Groot lay sprawled on the ground, gathering his remaining branches back into himself. Natasha was crawling away from the battle site, dragging Cap’s limp form along with her. War Machine lay stunned, shaking his head.

  Across the parking lot, Tony Stark’s repulsor rays flashed once, twice. Kir-ra! she thought, her heart sinking. Another person she’d failed–

  The Hulk squeezed again. One more would finish her. She squirmed, wriggled her hand. Her sword arm was pressed against her leg, but if she could work it free–

  Then she heard the wheeze and clatter of an engine. She looked up, turning along with the Hulk to peer over the roof of the shopping center. This wasn’t just any engine, she realized. A modified long-range hyperspace converter… probably an old one, from the sound of it, and in bad need of tachyon calibration…

  A starship soared into view – a Denebian luxury yacht, garish with its sleek lines and ornamental fins. With a shock, Gamora recognized it: one of the Praeteran evacuation vessels, the ships that had brought the Kree to Earth.

  The Hulk shook his fist, roaring.

  The ship swooped down and paused in midair to hover above the grocery store. My-ronn, the Kree worker, stuck his head out of a hatch. A phalanx of Kree workers, in full battle armor, appeared alongside him. They braced themselves, poised to leap.

  “You called it, Horse!” My-ronn cried. “It’s him!”

  Drax the Destroyer pushed past them and jumped into the air. “Hulk!” he cried, pointing his knives down. “Smash!”

  The Kree let out a battle cry and followed him down. They landed on the Hulk’s shoulders, his head, his arms, slashing with knives and firing proton guns. He screamed and flexed, throwing them off as fast as they arrived.

  Gamora wriggled free of the Hulk’s grip; Drax leaped down to meet her. She gasped for breath, nodding in gratitude. As the Hulk set her down on the pavement, she said, “Hulk smash?”

  He smiled and crouched low, preparing to leap up and join the battle.

  “I have always wanted to say that,” he said.

  •••

  Jericho Drumm watched the raging conflict play out in the air above his brittle cage. The Hulk’s power lit up the night, glowing like the herald of some unearthly invader.

  Which, Jericho knew, was exactly what it was.

  Brother, he pleaded. Even you must see this has gone too far!

  Daniel did not reply. He’d been silent for several minutes, during which time their shared body had not moved a muscle in the outside world. The Hood had fled the scene, and Tony Stark stood sparring with the Kree woman.

  Jericho clenched his fists in frustration, rattling the bones of his cage. Outside, the newly arrived Kree descended on the Hulk like a swarm of insects. The Hulk swept both arms around, scattering them across the pavement.

  Jericho rose to his feet. Brother!

  The Hulk howled again. But this time, something was different; the aura around him surged again, then flickered and faded away. Jericho peered at the image – and all at once he knew.

  You’re doing something, he said, aren’t you? You’ve erected some sort of mystic barrier around the Hulk. You’re containing one aspect of his power – the gamma radiation – so it doesn’t kill anyone.

  Still Daniel said nothing. But as Jericho stood within his prison, a shimmering appeared around his outstretched hand. A rough-hewn wooden staff formed, firm and warm in his grip.

  The Staff of Legba. Or, at least, its mental equivalent. That meant he was on the right path, that the powers of voodoo had not forsaken him.

  It meant something else, too: he was right about his brother. Daniel hadn’t fully abandoned all the principles by which he’d lived. Even when that life was long over, and the prospect of ending his half-life had proved too tempting a prize to resist.

  But Daniel hadn’t abandoned his Master, either. Not yet. And until he did, this battle – this atrocity, this rampage of planetary destruction – would not end.

  Jericho paused, marshaling his strength. Listen, brother, he began. Please listen. For both our sakes… for the future of our souls. For the gros bon ange we share, and the ti bon ange that is unique to every man and woman.

  There is an order to the world…

  •••

  Kir-ra was so startled by the arrival of the evacuation ship, she almost missed the red-and-gold fist flying toward her. She ducked, avoiding Stark’s blow by less than an inch.

  He paused, quivering, and stared at his hand. He’s still not really trying, she thought. That gave her an opening – one that wouldn’t last forever.

  “You said you’d help them!” she cried.

  He froze. Turned glowing eyes to stare at her.

  “My people,” she explained. “You made me a promise, remember?” She gestured at the Hulk and at the dozen or more Kree swarming over him. “Are you going to keep that promise? Or are you just lost inside that shell?”

  He flexed his metallic joints. For a moment, she thought he was going to attack her again. Then the helmet retracted to reveal his blank-eyed, staring face.

  “Lost,” he said, so quietly she almost missed it.

  “I know,” she said. “Whatever that thing is, inside you… it feeds on your own despair, doesn’t it? It preyed on my grandmother, on her grief and resentment. Made her do terrible things.”

  “Can’t fight it,” he gasped. “Can’t keep it all together.”

  “I know. It’s hard. I’ve made mistakes too.” She blinked, turned away. “I brought a killer into my house, let him use me against my family. I endangered the people I love most.”

  Green energy flared in the night. In the distance, she could see the battle raging against the Hulk. Her own people, fighting a last desperate stand alongside the heroes of Earth.

  “My world is gone. My Grandpa is dead. My war was over before I ever got to fight it.” She forced herself to face Stark directly. “But I’m trying. I’m trying to make things better. That’s what we do, right? That’s what people do.”

  His cheek twitched. He staggered back against a stone table. Now she could see the pain, the struggle in his eyes.

  This is it, she thought. The final appeal.

  “Help me fix this,” she said. “Please.”

  Chapter 50

  Rocket whizzed out of the hardware store on his aero-rig, heading straight for the Hulk. Drax clung to the monster’s back, pummeling him with blow after blow. And approaching from the other direction–

  “That’s it, big guy,” Rhodey called, guns blasting. “Hold him still!”

  The Hulk lurched to the side, hurling Drax into the air, and pointed his metal shoulder-guard at the approaching War Machine. Bullets spanged off the World-Breaker armor, bouncing back toward Rhodey. He twisted in midair, but a few shots struck his steel-plated torso.

  Rocket waited for the fire to die down, then boosted the aero-rig to full power. “Heads up,” he cried. “Comin’ in hot!”

  The Hulk turned to look, growling in surprise at the furry creature flying toward him. He took a giant step backward, crashing into the battered wall of
the grocery store. He coughed and staggered into the store, reaching up to sweep the last shards of ceiling aside.

  That’s it, dumbass, Rocket thought. Just stay off balance for one more minute…

  He reached down, fumbled with a hastily rigged catapult harness, and fired off a dozen Insta-Light Logs. The Hulk watched, baffled, as logs landed all around him inside the store, settling down onto chunks of collapsed ceiling and deserted grocery aisles. He caught a log out of the air and held it up, staring at it like a child with a strange toy.

  Rocket thumbed a switch on: a stripped-down lawnmower engine, strapped to the bottom of his rig. The engine rattled to life. When he reached the store, he kicked in the leaf blowers, letting loose a rainfall of lighter fluid straight down on the Hulk.

  Then he dropped a single match and waited. Such a well-equipped hardware store, he thought. Too bad they’re closing down! Well, that’s late capitalism for you–

  The logs went up all at once, surrounding the Hulk with fire.

  “Like I said,” Rocket said, smirking. “Hot!”

  Drax charged the store, laughing, and leaped on the Hulk’s back again, ignoring the flames. Rhodey swooped down and fired off another volley of shots.

  The Kree starship had retreated upward. The Kree themselves formed a perimeter on the wall of the neighboring store, lying on their stomachs and squeezing off shots at the Hulk. When Natasha joined them, My-ronn gave her a welcoming high-five. She picked up a proton rifle and joined the firing line.

  Groot stayed at a distance from the fire, generating hard fruits and flinging them at the Hulk. Gamora circled the battle, swords drawn. Waiting for her chance.

  When the lighter fluid ran dry, Rocket boosted his aero-rig to full power again. As he swooped around the Hulk, for just a moment he saw hurt and confusion in those emerald eyes. It’s not his fault, Rocket realized. He didn’t ask for any of this. Not the Kree, not the power of Praeterus, not the platoon of heroes arrayed against him. He didn’t even ask to become the Hulk…