"At last!" Brunnhilde declared as her magnificent winged stallion Aragorn descended from the clouds onto the grounds that house the Great Hall of Valhalla. It had not been an easy journey to begin with, even to one of the Order of the Chosen. But time had only made the path harder. Time and...

"...distance"

Brunnhilde, the goddess more often than not known simply as Valkyrie, turned her head to better hear her passenger, one Jennifer March who's body was formerly the home to one of the world's truly great mortals - Patsy Walker. Brunnhilde still felt the anger in her veins every time she looked at the usurper of the body. It didn't matter that it had apparently been hers in the first place - Jennifer March was out and free, and that meant that Patsy Walker's soul was trapped within her silver cord.*

(* A summary of what we learned in Defenders #191 - GD)

"What is it mortal?" Brunnhilde barked, a bit more forceful than she had intended. "It is difficult enough to stay the path between the worlds without having to pay attention to your prattling."

"I was just saying that it was quite some distance..."

"Aye. It was." Brunnhilde snapped, "Now be silent. We are approaching the Great Hall - where we shall see what to do with you."

Jennifer started to respond, but snapped her mouth shut as the Great Hall came into view. She stared in awe at the structure that would have dwarfed a good part of Manhattan. It rose from what seemed to be nowhere, absent from the skyline and the straight line descent - until you were almost upon it. Then, and only then, it became all that there was to see.

She continued to stare as Aragorn touched ground just outside what looked to be a door for Giants. Two young blonde women, dressed in armored chest plates similar to that of the woman she knew as the Valkyrie, came forward to take the reigns of the winged stallion. Two others assisted her down from the steed.

Brunnhilde dismounted with a simple leap. No careful placement of her feet or uneasy moment as she hang half off from her mount. Just a simple leap that was far too quick for Jennifer to analyze the mechanics.

As she was helped off, she took in her surroundings.

Once, not long ago as she reckoned it, she was a mother of two, living her in the suburbs, just trying to get by... Now here she was, in Asgard (a place she would have never believed existed) - her soul (another something she didn't hold much faith in) entwined with that of another woman who had come to inhabit her body. Now, she was here to find a way to save that woman, this Patsy Walker woman, at any cost.

Jennifer March watched Valkyrie carefully as the other women deferred to her, wondering just how much this woman would allow her to pay to save her friend.

She stared at the Great Door as it swung open at Valkyrie's touch. She stared inside, further into a world of fantasy and adventure, further into a world where her own future was more in doubt than it had ever seemed before she had met

	June- Year 4
	#193

Van Dyne Mansion

"Hold him!"

"I'm trying!"

Clea muttered a few words under her breath, her hands suddenly bursting to light. The spell leapt from her hands, encasing an enraged Hannibal King in an energy bubble.

The vampire pushed against it, his eyes wild, struggling to break free. But the bubble moved as he did, expanding around his fingertips.

"Good job." Lorna Dane, the mutant known as Polaris nodded, expecting the handy work of the current Sorcerer Supreme.

The Wasp nodded her agreement as she knelt beside her teammate, a Rina Patel, Timeslip, from some point in the future. A Rina who had come for them for help against the man who was trying to steal her baby...trying to steal a younger version of someone who might one day become him, Kang the Conqueror. When he had shown up unexpectedly, the Defenders had been able to face him down, but no before one of their own, the vampire Hannibal King, had suddenly and inexplicably switched sides and attacked her.*

(* But then again, you knew all of this from last issue, right? - GD)

Janet examined Rina's neck. Sure enough, there were the telltale fang marks, deep into her flesh. Small, neat, precise.

"Let me out of here!" Hannibal screamed as he tried pushing again.

"I don't think so..." Clea said defiantly. "Not before I get some answers."

Hannibal smiled mysteriously and disappeared from the bubble.

"Fog!" Janet Van Dyne, the winsome Wasp, exclaimed as she noticed it start to rise from the floor.

The fog recollected quickly into the form of a grinning Hannibal King.

Clea started to mutter again. The Wasp jumped to her feet and shrank down to the size of her namesake, sending several energy "stings" his way.

Polaris went deep into concentration, feeling the room out, switching an ion charge here, an ion charge there...

"What in the name of the Infernal Throne is going on here!?!" a booming voice from the hallway declared.

All eyes went to her, momentarily forgetting their own battle.

Clea's pupils went white. "Satana," she muttered, turning her blast of magic toward the newest threat.

Satana Hellstorm, the sister of the Lord of the Black Halo himself, brushed aside the magic that had been meant to bind the vampire as an annoyance.

Clea cursed herself for not seeing that immediately, and started preparing something more appropriate.

"I'm not here to fight," Satana declared. "I'm here to talk to y..."

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Hannibal King heading toward the window, attempting to make his escape. "Halt," she said, her voice brimming with power.

Hannibal stopped inches from the window frame. He tried to move forward. He pushed himself... tried to trigger the transformation... feeling the molecules in his body separating... and snapping back into place.

He stared at the window... wishing he could get out into the night... wishing he could find a way to redeem himself... or at least escape the punishment he would likely receive for something he had very much not wanted to do.

Lorna Dane stared at Hannibal King... helpless in the mystical hold of the Mistress of Limbo. She exchanged a look with the Wasp, who shrugged.

She had spent a bit of time with the Defenders... but most of her time had been with the X-Men, or X-Factor...things with nice normal mutants with big bold Xs clearly marked and dark conspiracies. Those were her bread and butter. Demons and magic though... those weren't the types of things she'd had much traffic with.

She looked at the face of Janet Van Dyne, the capable and seen-it-all look of the woman who had formerly lead the Avengers completely eclipsing the no-brained fashion maven guise she so often retreated into. She had merely shrugged when faced with someone like Satana Hellstorm... shrugged as if it wasn't more than she had expected to run into on your average day. First Kang - then Hannibal switching sides - now the sister of the Devil, and no reaction whatsoever...

Lorna stared after Janet as she watched her and Clea approaching the scantily clad half-demon. She stared and wondered just what she had gotten herself into...

177A Bleecker St.

Greenwich Village, New York

Jericho Drumm looked at the business card in his hand again. Sure enough, the address was right.

He looked down at the phone number at the bottom of the card. That was correct as well. Although how someone had gotten the number to Stephen's Magician Circle's hotline, much less printed it on a standard issue business card was beyond him. Especially since the number wasn't ...exactly...an actual phone number. It was more of a mystic numeric summoning device. A spiritual speed dial.

And yet - there it was, complete with a name on the top - Mr. Immortal and the logo SECRET DEFENDERS in raised red embossed and glossy letters.

He shook his head, the cards themselves must have cost a mint to print... they were the type of business cards that no business man in their right mind would want to just hand out on the street... but rather put in some nice safe plastic bag or something, never touching them... never realizing that they would be worth nothing to him that way.

He looked down at the card.

"Careful with it," Craig Hollis, Mr. Immortal, warned. "You don't want to get any oils on it - that might ruin the finish."

Jericho Drumm, the man known as Brother Voodoo... houngan of the first degree and a member of the Magician's Circle that was protecting the lifeless body of Dr. Stephen Strange... tried to keep the smile from his face. People were silly, he had long ago figured that one out. What most people didn't seem to remember though - was that the type of people who put on bright costumes to fight evil were a far sillier breed. He now could amend himself, with the fact that the brighter costume that the person wore, the more off they could be counted on to be.

Mr. Immortal stood before him with a far brighter costume than he'd seen in quite some time.

"So - you have this nice business card..." Jericho finally said... giving up on giving him the silent treatment. It hadn't been enough to make him go away from the door, nor had it forced him from the foyer thus far.

"Proving who I am," Craig inserted.

Jericho didn't nod. He didn't shake his head either. "What of it?" was what he said instead, simply and coldly.

"I need to speak to Dr. Strange on a matter of great import."

"As I said," Jericho stated, sighing inwardly, "he is not available right now... anything concerning magic though can be directed to myself or one of my associates."

"Well... I was really hoping to speak to Stephen about this..." Craig said, staring at his own feet sheepishly. "Or Clea," he added hopefully.

"Clea is not here at the moment," Jericho said, then stopped himself, seeing his opportunity, "but I can tell her where she is - if it's really important enough to take to her."

Craig looked up with a bright smile. "Oh it is - I assure you it is!" he declared with a renewed hope in his eyes.

Jericho walked over to the side table, trying so hard not to smile... writing the address down from memory. "She's visiting some friends..." Jericho said, remembering Craig's supposed affiliation with the Avengers. "Maybe you know them as well."

Craig took the card eagerly, looking down at the nameless address. He looked at it for a moment, then looked up with a smile, "Oh - she's over at the Wasp's!" he declared with a nod. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" he said, as he turned to leave.

Jericho stared at the ceiling, his eyes searching for divine guidance, "I certainly wish I had thought of it..." he muttered as Craig said an abrupt goodbye and closed the door behind him.

The man known as Brother Voodoo sighed in relief as the door closed. He stood, watching the door, hoping that the so-called Mr. Immortal would be off bothering some one else. He hated that he had pushed him off on the current Sorcerer Supreme, but perhaps she could handle him better...

"Was that who I thought it was?' a voice came from beside him.

He looked over with a start. The manservant and close friend of Dr. Strange, the man named Wong, was standing there. As Brother Voodoo, Jericho liked to think he had supernatural senses beyond those of mortal kin... but Wong's sudden and unheralded appearance at his side was certainly an eye-opener... Then again, any man who could live with and serve the greatest mortal mage was bound to have a few of his own tricks up his sleeve.

"Depends on who you thought it was," Jericho said with a smile. "He said his name was Mr. Immortal."

Wong's eyes went wide. "That was Master Hollis?!?" he exclaimed.

"You know him???" Jericho responded, his heart skipping a beat.

"Of course," Wong replied. "He's one of the Secret Defenders. If he has come HERE - there must be something very wrong afoot in the world."

Jericho stared at the door, not knowing what to say. "I... I sent him to see Clea," he finally muttered.

Wong nodded. "That is probably for the best. The Mistress will no doubt know how to handle whatever news he brings." He stared at the door for a moment, before turning back to Jericho. "I do wish he had stayed for tea though... the Magician's Circle would have undoubtedly wanted to hear some of the stories he has to tell... as well as the news... Master Hollis always has the best stories..."

Elsewhere

Her eyes opened, for what seemed like the first time in forever. She had felt the wind before, hitting her from all directions, but never imagined anything like this...

She looked around, and found herself to be a small platform barely larger than herself - in the middle of what appeared to be every hurricane that had ever existed rolled into one then multiplied by ten thousand.

It raged around the platform, but never touched it. Merely concealing what lay beyond, and placing an insurmountable wall of storm in her path.

She got to her feet... "More room to move," she rightly figured. The storm beyond the platform seemed to intensify.

She stared out into it, hoping for some answers. "How did I get here?" "Who did this to me?"

She triggered the transformation, reaching out to that other part of her soul, the part that Gaea herself had bound to her, the spirit of vengeance known by mankind as the Ghost Rider.

She called to it... hoping to use its power to break free from the platform and use it's power through the depths of the storm.

She called to that part of her being... called to the Ghost Rider...

She felt nothing. No difference. No transformation. No ... power.

The woman who had returned from the dead, who had rechristened herself Janine De Loup, stared out into the storm - calling on the power of Gaea, upon Mother Earth herself, for answers.

None were forthcoming.

Elsewhere

They argued who was going to go first.

The three that had come to them had come to them at the same time, to keep one from claiming favors to the other.

"We cannot," one would say.

Then the other would giggle.

"He made us promise," the other would cry.

The other would mock him.

"We know of this..." Mephisto dismissed. "And we have come with a way around your plight."

"REALLY?" they would answer together, intrigued.

"Time is so fluid," Hela, the Norse goddess of Death claimed, "that there is no reason you have to attack from THIS millenium."

"No reason at all," the dark man in green told them.

They looked at Mephisto and Hela, wondering what had possessed them to join forces with such a being. He made them shake inside.

But then - most things did these days...

"Just go several centuries in the linear future, and attack from there," Mephisto offered. "Mortals, even their mightiest, are so linear minded that I'm quite sure that the possibility never even struck him..."

"You're right..." one would say.

The other would punch him in the stomach, then run off giggling.

"I agree," the other would say, just before the other would hit him with the mystical equivalent of a wet towel.

Mephisto looked to Hela. "Do we really need these fools?" he muttered to her.

Her expression never changed. Her eyes simply gave a sidelong glance toward the man in green.

"He says we do," she admitted, "which is good enough for me."

Mephisto looked over, thinking of questioning his judgment... then thought better of it. After all, he was evil - but not stupid.

Valhalla

"You were right to bring her here," one of the women warriors was saying, as they continued to poke and prod her.

"I have a name you know..." Jennifer snapped for the millionth time. They paid this one no more head than they had the last.

Brunnhilde nodded. "I felt that the Sisterhood be able to untangle this web with more exactness than mortals. After all, silver cords are things we deal with everyday."

One of the Order came into the room where they were examining Jennifer March. She walked up to the one who had been doing most of the talking. She whispered something in her ear, turned and walked back out of the room.

The Valkyrie stared at her feet for a moment, before tilting her head back up toward Brunnhilde. "Sister Brunnhilde," she said, her voice taking on official undertones.

Brunnhilde's eyes left Jennifer immediately, she stared at her fellow Chosen as if just realizing who she was.

"You have been summoned to the Great Hall," she said.

Brunnhilde took a step back involuntarily. "But why?" she asked.

The other Valkryies placed themselves between her and Jennifer, making a path clear to the door, but to nowhere else. No one spoke.

Brunnhilde felt her pulse start to race. "Why am I being summoned?" she demanded.

No one replied. But when she took note of where their eyes fell. She didn't have to feel the sword missing at her side to know that it had been noticed.

She walked hotly toward the door, head up, noble and proud. After all, there had been nothing that she had done that would not come out under review. Nothing that would hold against her rank of office, her level of service...

She turned at the door, taking a last look at Jennifer.

Jennifer started to follow, but a dozen Valkyrie stepped into her path. She raised her fist, as if to warn them not to stand in her way, but when she looked over, Brunnhilde was shaking her head. "You'll be safe here," the woman who was not her friend told her.

She turned back to the door and opened it... the fire from the setting sun blazed behind her like a crown. "Or a halo," Jennifer added in retrospect.

She stood there for a moment, taking one last look at the assembled group, she locked eyes with Jennifer for what seemed like forever. "Tell them what happened here," she said. Jennifer watched her lips, but noticed that they weren't moving... it was something else, something... almost pressing in her mind... "Tell them..." the voice of Brunnhilde repeated, "and take care of Patsy for me."

Before there could be any response, or understanding, Brunnhilde, the woman known throughout Earth as simply the Valkyrie closed the door behind her, to meet her judgment.

The rest of the Order filed out after her, leaving Jennifer March in the room, alone and more uncertain than ever about her future.

Van Dyne Mansion

Satana held Hannibal King enthralled. Just a twitch of her hand, a thought in that direction and he would be dead... he would pay for destroying her chance...

But she held off from what she wanted to do... she held off, because perhaps, there was still a sliver of hope.

"Start talking," Janet Van Dyne snapped.

Satana smiled at the diminutive woman's spark.

Clea, the new Sorcerer Supreme wore her marks of office perhaps without even fully realizing their presence. They hung draped on her, practically shouting her new status. She was watching Satana warily, a spell at the ready. Satana thought of pushing, just a bit, to see what it was, but knew Clea to be in most ways a far more dangerous opponent than Strange. After all, Strange had human failings, like mercy...

She looked as deeply into Clea's eyes as she dared... and barely saw a trace of anything that had rubbed off beyond the surface level.

She looked around, but she couldn't see the third woman, the one they called Polaris. That one was just as dangerous, in her own way, as Clea... she had barely tapped into the surface of what she was able to do... which made her even MORE deadly, someone who didn't know what the full extent of their abilities could often enough do things that someone who did would never try...

It was something worth watching at any rate, Satana decided, someone worth keeping her eye on, perhaps attempting to turn at some point in the future... she checked on the energy spectrum...perhaps she was hiding there...

"Okay - now we get the silent treatment!" Janet declared. "I'm going to say this one more time; you better start telling us why we just shouldn't start beating you back into the deepest pits of Hell or else!"

Satana looked down at Janet again, staring in wondrous delight. Even at her full height, the woman called the Wasp wasn't very large at all, but her spirit dwarfed that of some demons Satana had encountered over the years...

Living Room

Lorna Dane cradled the receiver in her hands... trembling.... with fear... with anger...

She put the receiver back on the hook, calmly, carefully... wishing that she had never just decided to check in at home.

She glanced back toward where she knew that Clea and Jan were facing down Satana... and Hannibal King... and whoever else happened to pop up at a moment's notice.

She shrugged. She had thought that they could handle it for a moment... she had come into the room on what she thought was impulse... picked up the phone on what had seemed to be whimsy... but it was in her gut. She felt it all along.

There was something else happening out there... something that was going to change her life, threaten her status quo, again.

She glanced to the door, and shrugged... if those two women were facing down the rest of the world, she knew where to place her bets.

They certainly didn't need her help... but there were...others... that did.

She needed to go back to her apartment to pack some things... but after that... she would see what Fall's Edge had to offer...

She turned to walk away, and felt a hand come down on her shoulder.

"Goodbye," a woman's voice said.

Lorna turned face to face with her, and gently smiled. "I was hoping to see you before I left," she said softly.

The woman smiled and nodded. "There's just one more thing I need you to do before you leave."

Lorna Dane, Polaris, grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

NEXT: Follow Lorna Dane into the pages of Marvel Fanfare and the hot new X-Factor series by Sam Everett - but then get back here for our NEXT ISSUE: Satana Speaks! Jennifer March makes a fateful decision! Mr. Immortal tells a story! But what about Janine De Loup? See you then...

Send mail to: Gary Dreslinski