Danny Rand leans into the outer sphere possessed by ghost riders. They burn, but he remains untouched. The Immortal Dragons and them battle on some other plane. He can feel it, but doesn’t join in. He bares the sphere no malice.
The earth shakes with battle, gods and legends fall. He can feel the waves of conflict spreading back for miles, Strange’s arms of influence, the spheres, reaching out with their magics, meeting threats as they appear.
Iron Fist is well behind enemy lines.
But bares the magician no ill will. Just leans.
Then something distracts Strange, for less than half a second, and he passes through, to the next sphere…
Iron Fist meditates, despite the thundering chaos, and walks through to the next layer. He is surprised at how thin they are, how aligned. He is only five feet from the doctor, almost there.
Focusing his chi, Danny’s outreaching hands begin to glow with the power of an Iron Fist. The Fifth Sphere opens its eye…
The Beast strips himself of his costume, looking to the battle so far away, then runs through its furthest wave. Soon, his run becomes a panther’s gait. On all fours he races over the fighting, the dead, around and under beams of light, of red thorns and roses, of fire. He notices Spiderman, not moving, just watching Strange, as if frozen with fright, but runs on, his face is determined, angry. He charges.
The Beast passes Captain America, swamped by the Minions of Nightmare. The Captain reaches his hand out.
“Hank! Wait…! How are you…?”
But Hank McCoy is gone, replaced by a beast. A creature that ignores Rodgers, that keeps on moving, like moth to flame.
The Wrecking Crew arrive in light and smoke.
“Thanks Enchantress…” mumbles the Wrecker.
“Like we’re really gunna save Thor!” says Bulldozer.
“Then what are we doing here…?” says Piledriver.
The Wrecker looks to Thunderball, who’s not in costume, just jeans, staring ahead at the battle without saying anything, before heading towards it.
The Wrecker shrugs.
“No jobs on a dead planet…”
They follow.
Iron Fist is face-to-face with the Eye of Agamotto. It is as big as him, crusted by shifting, sliding rock trolls.
“This will be the bit that hurts,” he mumbles.
The Eye closes. A mighty troll on its lid punches, breaking Iron Fist’s jaw. He slumps to the ground, snapping his neck.
“Hm?” says Spider Woman.
She is back with Strange, locked in the kiss before they slipped out from time. Without hesitation, she fires her venom.
He ducks and counterpunches.
She blocks it, firing with her free hand, which he slaps down.
She is not surprised. He is a tall man, and has had, if any of this is true, a millennium to master the last defence. Make his body a living weapon.
They cut and thrust within his spheres - duck and strike and block.
Spider Woman is furious. Furious! She’s had not time to fall in love, yet, somehow, feels betrayed, heartbroken.
Their fight takes them over the body of Danny Rand. The dragon on his chest seems to shift, if not smoulder, as if returning. His jaw and neck straighten. His heart beats.
The Wrecking Crew are swamped. Piledriver and Bulldozer piss and moan and yell with pain and are gone. The Wrecker tries to move forward, but falls behind. Thunderball, fiercely focused, starts spinning his wrecking ball above his head. One-by-one the other members of the wrecking crew die. Thunderball takes in their energies, his power surges.
Strange grabs Spider Woman’s wrist. At last he has time to move beyond reacting and raise his free hand to conjure. Iron Fist strikes from behind.
“Don’t give him time to think!” he calls, pressing his attack on the fallen Strange.
Strange kicks up, knocking him back, as Spider Woman, shouting angrily, lunges.
The three of them battle.
In the sky, expressionless, the Surfer, Thor lying bleeding, unconscious on the back of his board, combats a Hungarian hero. Between the cosmic rays and the new man’s explosions, the sky is alight with death and fireworks.
The Beast keeps charging.
Wolverine is combating the Cursed Flames, and losing. They are driving him back over the bodies of so many fallen.
“Impossible to…” he says, as he bumps into Captain America.
Back-to-back, it is all they can do to defend themselves.
Iron Fist and Spider Woman press forward. With each missed blow they connect with the vulnerable underside of Strange’s protective barriers. Sphere after sphere shatters.
A pulse bursts out from Strange, knocking all comers back, except the Beast, Thunderball, Silver Surfer, Danny and Jessica.
“How are they…?” Wolverine says, shielding his face with his claws, as he is thrown backwards by it, and the screaming faces it holds.
He tumbles into the chin of a crooked rock statue, a head, carved roughly out of the boulders around it, that looks a little like the Watcher.
“The Eighth Sphere. The soul of Ego the Living Planet,” a voice comes from it.
Wolverine, Captain America, all the remaining combatants start screaming in pain.
Thunderball stands inside the pulse, glaring at Strange. Life has beaten all ego out of him.
Iron Fist slips, Strange seizes his wrist, and, with his other hand, Spider Woman’s. He stands erect, chin high, a plate of light around his head, arms out wide, holding the two heroes.
“Peter…” he says. “I release you from what is about to happen…”
For half a second he is replaced by a confused Spiderman, as if, under the illusions, physically, he always has been.
There is no more need, in times of battle, to hide his body close, in Peter Parker, and visa versa. To give his spirit, his appearance, the reflexes of a hero. To let his body live a little, in simple youth, through the eyes of the one he most admires.
“What the…” Spiderman says, while from way behind him, in pure anger and frustration that has no thought, Thunderball throws his weapon.
“Danny Rand,” the stone face says. “60 human years of torture, is humble. Jessica Drew is devoid of ego, has been humbled time and again…”
The wrecking ball screams through the air towards Strange, smashing barrier after barrier Strange throws up.
The Surfer senses what is about to happen, and flies, as hard as he can, straight down, towards his friend.
Strange is standing heroes still in hands, arms still out wide, the plate of light now surrounding him, smaller spheres of sleep surrounding the other two, Death’s symbol over his head, the Surfer is baring down. Strange has dropped his spell of invisibility, revealing the Cloak of Levitation, the Eye. He is standing in all his glory.
Hercules pounds on the pulse, shouting, to no avail, Captain America and Wolverine are either unconscious or dead, at the foot of the statue. Iron Man is lost, Reed Richards rushing back to the Baxter Building.
Fallen warriors and magics litter the landscape.
The Beast, on all fours, is charging across the ground, beneath him the unmoving bodies of the Scarlet Witch, Back Bolt…
“The Beast,” the statue’s voice says. “Forged by loneliness…”
The wrecking ball, at the last second, is consumed by a portal. The Surfer, cutting down to ground level, flies by Strange, letting loose his cosmic power, killing Thunderball.
He stands beside Strange, the fallen Hulk at their feet. The two of them looking at Thunderball slowly fall, as the Seven Spheres of Protection try to piece themselves back together.
The Beast, arms covering face, leaps through, shattering them before they have seeled.
He lands, growling at Strange’s feet and thrusts. A blue, fury-covered claw punches through Strange’s chest, rising, from beneath the ribs, to his throat, taking the heart with it…
The earth shakes with battle, gods and legends fall. He can feel the waves of conflict spreading back for miles, Strange’s arms of influence, the spheres, reaching out with their magics, meeting threats as they appear.
Iron Fist is well behind enemy lines.
But bares the magician no ill will. Just leans.
Then something distracts Strange, for less than half a second, and he passes through, to the next sphere…
Iron Fist meditates, despite the thundering chaos, and walks through to the next layer. He is surprised at how thin they are, how aligned. He is only five feet from the doctor, almost there.
Focusing his chi, Danny’s outreaching hands begin to glow with the power of an Iron Fist. The Fifth Sphere opens its eye…
The Beast strips himself of his costume, looking to the battle so far away, then runs through its furthest wave. Soon, his run becomes a panther’s gait. On all fours he races over the fighting, the dead, around and under beams of light, of red thorns and roses, of fire. He notices Spiderman, not moving, just watching Strange, as if frozen with fright, but runs on, his face is determined, angry. He charges.
The Beast passes Captain America, swamped by the Minions of Nightmare. The Captain reaches his hand out.
“Hank! Wait…! How are you…?”
But Hank McCoy is gone, replaced by a beast. A creature that ignores Rodgers, that keeps on moving, like moth to flame.
The Wrecking Crew arrive in light and smoke.
“Thanks Enchantress…” mumbles the Wrecker.
“Like we’re really gunna save Thor!” says Bulldozer.
“Then what are we doing here…?” says Piledriver.
The Wrecker looks to Thunderball, who’s not in costume, just jeans, staring ahead at the battle without saying anything, before heading towards it.
The Wrecker shrugs.
“No jobs on a dead planet…”
They follow.
Iron Fist is face-to-face with the Eye of Agamotto. It is as big as him, crusted by shifting, sliding rock trolls.
“This will be the bit that hurts,” he mumbles.
The Eye closes. A mighty troll on its lid punches, breaking Iron Fist’s jaw. He slumps to the ground, snapping his neck.
“Hm?” says Spider Woman.
She is back with Strange, locked in the kiss before they slipped out from time. Without hesitation, she fires her venom.
He ducks and counterpunches.
She blocks it, firing with her free hand, which he slaps down.
She is not surprised. He is a tall man, and has had, if any of this is true, a millennium to master the last defence. Make his body a living weapon.
They cut and thrust within his spheres - duck and strike and block.
Spider Woman is furious. Furious! She’s had not time to fall in love, yet, somehow, feels betrayed, heartbroken.
Their fight takes them over the body of Danny Rand. The dragon on his chest seems to shift, if not smoulder, as if returning. His jaw and neck straighten. His heart beats.
The Wrecking Crew are swamped. Piledriver and Bulldozer piss and moan and yell with pain and are gone. The Wrecker tries to move forward, but falls behind. Thunderball, fiercely focused, starts spinning his wrecking ball above his head. One-by-one the other members of the wrecking crew die. Thunderball takes in their energies, his power surges.
Strange grabs Spider Woman’s wrist. At last he has time to move beyond reacting and raise his free hand to conjure. Iron Fist strikes from behind.
“Don’t give him time to think!” he calls, pressing his attack on the fallen Strange.
Strange kicks up, knocking him back, as Spider Woman, shouting angrily, lunges.
The three of them battle.
In the sky, expressionless, the Surfer, Thor lying bleeding, unconscious on the back of his board, combats a Hungarian hero. Between the cosmic rays and the new man’s explosions, the sky is alight with death and fireworks.
The Beast keeps charging.
Wolverine is combating the Cursed Flames, and losing. They are driving him back over the bodies of so many fallen.
“Impossible to…” he says, as he bumps into Captain America.
Back-to-back, it is all they can do to defend themselves.
Iron Fist and Spider Woman press forward. With each missed blow they connect with the vulnerable underside of Strange’s protective barriers. Sphere after sphere shatters.
A pulse bursts out from Strange, knocking all comers back, except the Beast, Thunderball, Silver Surfer, Danny and Jessica.
“How are they…?” Wolverine says, shielding his face with his claws, as he is thrown backwards by it, and the screaming faces it holds.
He tumbles into the chin of a crooked rock statue, a head, carved roughly out of the boulders around it, that looks a little like the Watcher.
“The Eighth Sphere. The soul of Ego the Living Planet,” a voice comes from it.
Wolverine, Captain America, all the remaining combatants start screaming in pain.
Thunderball stands inside the pulse, glaring at Strange. Life has beaten all ego out of him.
Iron Fist slips, Strange seizes his wrist, and, with his other hand, Spider Woman’s. He stands erect, chin high, a plate of light around his head, arms out wide, holding the two heroes.
“Peter…” he says. “I release you from what is about to happen…”
For half a second he is replaced by a confused Spiderman, as if, under the illusions, physically, he always has been.
There is no more need, in times of battle, to hide his body close, in Peter Parker, and visa versa. To give his spirit, his appearance, the reflexes of a hero. To let his body live a little, in simple youth, through the eyes of the one he most admires.
“What the…” Spiderman says, while from way behind him, in pure anger and frustration that has no thought, Thunderball throws his weapon.
“Danny Rand,” the stone face says. “60 human years of torture, is humble. Jessica Drew is devoid of ego, has been humbled time and again…”
The wrecking ball screams through the air towards Strange, smashing barrier after barrier Strange throws up.
The Surfer senses what is about to happen, and flies, as hard as he can, straight down, towards his friend.
Strange is standing heroes still in hands, arms still out wide, the plate of light now surrounding him, smaller spheres of sleep surrounding the other two, Death’s symbol over his head, the Surfer is baring down. Strange has dropped his spell of invisibility, revealing the Cloak of Levitation, the Eye. He is standing in all his glory.
Hercules pounds on the pulse, shouting, to no avail, Captain America and Wolverine are either unconscious or dead, at the foot of the statue. Iron Man is lost, Reed Richards rushing back to the Baxter Building.
Fallen warriors and magics litter the landscape.
The Beast, on all fours, is charging across the ground, beneath him the unmoving bodies of the Scarlet Witch, Back Bolt…
“The Beast,” the statue’s voice says. “Forged by loneliness…”
The wrecking ball, at the last second, is consumed by a portal. The Surfer, cutting down to ground level, flies by Strange, letting loose his cosmic power, killing Thunderball.
He stands beside Strange, the fallen Hulk at their feet. The two of them looking at Thunderball slowly fall, as the Seven Spheres of Protection try to piece themselves back together.
The Beast, arms covering face, leaps through, shattering them before they have seeled.
He lands, growling at Strange’s feet and thrusts. A blue, fury-covered claw punches through Strange’s chest, rising, from beneath the ribs, to his throat, taking the heart with it…
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