by Stuart Moore
Kir-ra found Tony on the pier, near the Avengers’ quinjet, saying goodbye to his teammates. In his crisp three-piece suit, he looked like a different man than the armored zombie she’d battled just hours before.
The Hulk looked even more different. Bruce Banner grimaced, adjusting his glasses. “Sorry again, about all the…” He flexed his lean muscles and mimed a roar.
“My fault,” Natasha said. “It was my call.”
“Bruce. Doctor Banner.” Tony waited for him to look up. “When we bring you in, we know the risks. We just didn’t count on some old bat with the stored power of a dead planet, this time.”
“That was a long shot,” Banner acknowledged.
“Things took a bad bounce,” Captain America said. “Next time’ll be different.”
“Next time?” Rhodey asked. “Next time maybe you can give me a little more advance warning.”
“Promise,” Tony replied. “Assuming I’m not under the influence of voodoo.”
Rhodey smiled, snapped his helmet shut, and took off into the sky. Natasha crossed to Tony, gave him a quick hug, and said “We’re off too.” She beckoned to Banner. Together, they started toward the quinjet.
Cap lingered. “Speaking of Voodoo…”
“The doc’s vanished.” Tony frowned. “Think he’s gone looking for his dead brother. I’m a little worried what he might find.”
“And the Hood?”
“In custody, but he’s not talking.”
Cap grimaced. “This isn’t over, is it?”
“It is for now.” Tony held out his hand. “Thanks, Cap.”
Cap nodded, then turned to Kir-ra. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat in her direction. Then he turned and sprinted across the pier, to the quinjet.
Kir-ra stood with Tony, watching as the jet lifted up into the sky. “You know,” he said, “I really think this is going to be a new beginning.”
She said nothing.
“I mean it,” he continued. “I feel much more in control of things now, ready to move forward. My god, I’m a lucky– “
“Liaison?” she said.
He turned to her, blinked.
“I am not going to be your lapdog,” she said. “Your… rubber stamp? A friendly face on a bad situation.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I want you to solve these problems. The resources of Stark International are at your disposal.”
“OK, then. What about where my people are going to live? Those hotel vouchers are only good for a month.”
“I – well – they’re going to be making considerably more money now, so–”
“They still need help. You can’t just expect people to build themselves new lives in a foreign place, with no assistance whatsoever.”
He turned to face her directly, a smile playing at his lips. “You did.”
“I did. But I’m one person, not three hundred and eighty-four. That’s not the way immigration works.”
“Point taken. F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He cocked his head, listening to a voice in his earpiece. “Add a couple decimal points to the Kree redevelopment fund. Scratch that; no limit.” He turned back to Kir-ra. “Happy?”
“I’m getting there.”
He did smile, then. A charming smile, she thought; one that had probably melted a lot of hearts.
“You may only be one person,” he said, “but you’re a very impressive one. Maybe we could have dinner tonight? Discuss your salary and perks over a fine Bordeaux?”
“That’s a generous offer.” She took a step back. “But my attorney will be handling those negotiations.”
“That’s right,” Jennifer Walters said, striding out onto the pier. “And my client does not come cheap.”
“Attorney,” Tony repeated. “Ah. Of course.”
“Just looking out for my clients, Tony.” Jen raised an eyebrow. “Get me a deal memo ay-sap on the liaison thing, and we’ll hash out the deets. In the meantime, let’s keep this on a professional level, OK?”
“Yes, counselor.” He stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “Message received.”
“Dinner’s at your discretion,” Jen said, leaning in to Kir-ra. “But if he makes the smallest move out of line, you let me know.”
“I’m not worried,” Kir-ra replied. “He’s the kind that can be shamed.”
Jen shrugged, patted Kir-ra on the shoulder, and turned on her heel to leave. “And don’t sign anything!”
When she was gone, Tony flashed Kir-ra a quick, embarrassed smile. Then he turned and walked slowly to the end of the pier. She followed, avoiding the rubble left from yesterday’s battle. That seemed like a long time ago.
“What do you see now?” he asked, staring out over the water.
“I’m not sure,” she frowned. “I’m glad you caught the Hood, but my brother says we haven’t found the true killer. The power that destroyed my planet, took over your mind and infiltrated your company, and tried to devastate your world as well.”
“Yeah. We got the hitman, but not the mob boss.”
All at once, her training kicked in. She detected a sudden rise in his heartrate, a fear-scent filling the air.
“You know something,” she said.
“Maybe.”
When he turned to face her, the look in his eyes chilled her to the bone.
“I hope I’m wrong,” he said.
Six Days Later
Six Days Later
Epilogue
This time it wasn’t a yeti; it was a sludge monster. By the time Kamala fought it off, chased it back into the sewers, and sealed all the surrounding manholes, the sun was setting over Grove Street. She had a layer of slime on her that a half-dozen towels couldn’t manage to wipe off.
If she went straight home, she could take a nice, long shower. But that would involve making up a story for her parents, who didn’t know about her Ms Marvel identity. She couldn’t handle that right now, so she cleaned up her costume as well as she could and did one last sweep to ensure she hadn’t missed anything.
She found herself wondering about Halla-ar. Where was he right now? Living a life of swashbuckling adventure, fighting off hostile aliens alongside the Guardians? Or just holed up in a cramped spaceship cabin, drawing pictures of greeting-card bunnies?
Eventually she realized she’d wandered all the way to the abandoned shopping center across the street from the housing complex. The place where the Avengers and the Guardians, along with the Kree, had battled World-Breaker Hulk for the future of the planet.
“I think my subconscious is playing tricks on me,” she muttered to herself.
She picked her way across the cracked pavement, under the flickering streetlamps. The stores were completely roped off, the half-collapsed buildings surrounded by sawhorses and police tape. Even the pizza parlor was dark, she noted sadly.
She perched on one of the few intact stone benches, still thinking of Halla-ar. And of Bruno, too. That kiss seemed less important than before; they were getting back to being friends again.
That’s all I’m ready for right now, she realized. With anyone.
“Oh, man,” a voice said. “The brooding costumed hero, preoccupied with some deep personal drama?”
Kamala leaped to her feet, stretching her neck all the way around. A lean red and blue figure dropped down from the streetlamp on a line of thick gooey cord.
“I invented that jam!” Spider-Man said.
Kamala blinked “Spi… Spi…” she said. “Spider-Man?”
“The one and only. Well, except for the one who hangs out in Brooklyn. You’re a friend of his, right?”
“Yeah,” Kamala said. She and Miles had worked together a few times.
She tried to keep her voice casual. But she’d never met O.G. Spider-Man before, and while she hated to admit it, it was kind of a thrill.
Like getting to meet some old rock star – Mick Jagger, maybe, or Madonna.
“Real talk, kid,” Spidey said. “This is no coincidence. We came here to find you.”
She frowned. “We?”
He turned and gestured off into the distance, toward the police barricades. In the shadows, she could just barely make out a shifting red cloak moving against the darkness.
“What is that thing?” she asked. “I’ve seen it before. Across the street from here – in the projects–”
The cloak turned toward her. A human figure emerged slowly from the darkness, clad in the red and blue robes of Doctor Strange. She let out a little surprised noise.
Spider-Man sighed. “He does that to people.”
“Ms Marvel,” Strange said. “I have need of you.”
“You…” She frowned, reached into her back pocket. “You’re the one that left this for me,” she said, holding up the eye talisman. “You helped us track the World-Breaker energy back to Halla-ar’s grandmother.”
“I did.”
“Wait a minute.” Her eyes grew wide. “Is this the Eye of Agamotto?”
A gentle smile crossed Strange’s lips. “This is the Eye of Agamotto,” he said, touching a talisman at his throat. “What you hold is a lesser charm: the Eye of Vouk. A sort of cousin to my own.”
“And… and you– “
“I’d hoped that Stark and the Guardians could defeat our enemy’s plans. With your help, they did manage to prevent the World-Breaker from wreaking havoc – and, in the process, they dealt the enemy a serious setback. But he will recover; this I know from long experience. Which means I must take more direct action.” He paused. “I must gather a team of champions. A sort of Shadow Avengers–”
“He says that like he hasn’t been practicing the name for weeks,” Spidey said.
“–to battle this would-be devil on his own playing field: the murk, the ether. The crawlspaces of reality; the shadows between the worlds.”
“Whoa. Hold on.” Kamala’s head was spinning. “What does this thing want? Why did it set up the Hulk, the World-Breaker guy, to turn the planet into mashed potatoes?”
“Earth has unique defenses,” Strange explained. “All that you experienced, beginning with the destruction of Praeterus, was designed to lead to this. Cripple our world, and the invasion would become easier.”
“Invasion? Of what? What’s left after you get rid of the Earth?”
“Why, our entire realm. All that we know of as reality.”
She sat down on the bench, stunned.
“I don’t think you want me on that team,” she said.
“That’s what I told him!” Spider-Man said. “About myself, I mean.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m more of a local-hero type. I’ve hardly ever been out of this city.”
“You stood up to the Hulk,” Strange said. “Only a handful of people can make that claim.”
Spider-Man nodded. He pointed both index fingers at Strange, then at himself. Then, slowly, he turned and pointed at her.
“What…” She shook her head. “What is this ‘enemy,’ anyway? The Hood, Halla-ar’s grandma, Doctor Voodoo – they all made deals with it. Is it, I don’t know, the Devil? Is there really such a thing?”
“He is not the Devil of myth,” Strange said, “though it pleases him to present himself as such. It allows him to spread fear, to crush rebellions and extend his rule over conquered peoples.”
“OK.” She felt a bit of relief. “So he isn’t the Devil. What is he, then? What’s his name?”
Spider-Man straightened up, eyeing Strange. The sorcerer stood tall, backlit by the streetlamp; at his chest, the Eye of Agamotto pulsed once. He’s the guardian of our realm, Kamala thought. She could almost see the threats, the monsters, the creatures of scales and flame waiting to squirm in through the shadows, blocked only by this one man.
“His name,” Doctor Strange said, “is Dormammu.”
Acknowledgments
This book was written during a particularly strange and trying time – not for me in particular, but for the entire planet. Hopefully you’re reading this in some near-future utopia of jetpacks, flying cars, and ubiquitous vaccinations, and have no idea what I’m talking about. But because these things matter, here are the people who contributed to – and helped keep me sane during – the writing of Target: Kree.
My family: Mom, Jeff, Kathy, Robyn, and Rosemary. Honorable mention: FaceTime, which kept us all together.
The helpful, accommodating people of Aconyte – especially Marc, who asked me to play with all these wonderful toys and then cleared the path; and Gwen, who shaped the manuscript and pushed me to flesh out the characters, especially Ms Marvel. I also want to note Anjuli and the ever-helpful Ness who, as I write this, is still struggling to deal with my silly American bank.
The Marvel gang! Jeff and Caitlin, you’re just a few miles away, but it might as well be a continent. Hope to see you soon.
A quick blanket thank you to 21st Century Technology, including the Marvel Unlimited app and Disney+, both of which supplied quick, invaluable reference for this book.
The amazing crew at AHOY, who provide emotional support while they eat up so much of my freelance time: Tom, Hart, Frank, David, Deron, Sarah, Kit, Lillian, Hanna, Cory, and Rob.
All the friends who offered advice on writing and business – or just emotional support – at a time when reaching out was harder than usual. In no particular order: Marie, Alex, Shawna, Axel, Keith, Lauren, Bob G, Alisa, and a few dozen others I’m blanking on right this second. Sorry! I’ll catch you next time!
The local breweries: Folksbier, Svendale, and Threes. Look them up when you’re in Brooklyn! They are the best!
Our stupid cats, Rocko and Bebe. The only creatures I know who actually enjoyed the lockdown, because they had us all to themselves.
And of course my partner, Liz Sonneborn. I can’t imagine a better quarantine buddy, in this or any other galaxy. Love you always.
Stuart Moore
Brooklyn, New York
April 2021
About the Author
STUART MOORE is a writer, fiction editor, and a multiple award-winning comics editor. His many novels include X-Men: The Dark Phoenix Saga, The Zodiac Legacy (created and cowritten by Stan Lee), and Thanos: Death Sentence. He has recently written comics such as Deadpool the Duck, Batman, and EGOs. Stuart is the former editor of the Marvel prose novel line, founding editor of Vertigo, and of several other comic imprints.
stuartmoorewriter.com
twitter.com/stuartmoore1
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Part One Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part Two Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part Three Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Part Four Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part Five Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Part Six Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
&
nbsp; Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Part Seven Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
World Expanding Fiction