She watched for their return, hoping to hear something, to notice something in their behavior, that would give her a clue as to what was going on with Brunnhilde...about what was to happen to her.

She cursed herself for going to Asgard in the first place - for not fighting it, not that it would have done any good. Besides, she reasoned, if Patsy Walker really was trapped within her silver cord, didn't she owe her the chance to be free? Didn't she owe it to herself to not have her life tied to that of a stranger?

Jennifer March sat on the table that they had used to examine her, her legs dangling over the edge. Everything in the room smelled musty, an old and dank smell that told her more than she needed to know about the Order of the Valkyrie. Apparently they cared little for actual upkeep. OR, she thought as she sat in the torch lit room... wishing that she had not already thought to try the handle of the door, since that would have been one more option she could have given hope... they just never used the room for anything.

That one frightened her more than the other... after all, if they didn't regularly use the room... they might never come back.

Elsewhere

He watched and listened... waiting... and humming to himself.

It was a catchy little tune... something about tearing off the wings of little butterflies and putting them in a pot... No, oh no, it wasn't butterflies at all... it was children... Oh yes, tearing the wings off little children and putting them in a pot.

A nice stew pot, maybe with some carrots and parsley... that would be nice...

Nice little wingless children...

Perhaps he was thinking about cherubs? No, he decided shaking his head with vigor. You roasted cherubs... you stewed human babies... that was what all the best recipe books called for.... not that he had ever had much of a chance before... no one had really let him do more than go around making evil plans and getting stopped by his brother, the king...

But that would soon change, Maximus laughed, as he played some more with the broad sword in his chest... smiling as it he found it harder and harder to remove... it was becoming part of him now... his skin was simply sealing around it. The Dragons had seen to that... they would see to more.

To looked up at the smiling moon... the place where his people, the Inhumans, lived... the place where his cursed brother, the one they called Black Bolt, reigned.

But that would all change... after all, they lived in the safety of the Blue Area of the Moon... but nothing was really safe from the Dragon of the Moon, one of those he now served... nothing on that satellite anyway...

They would all pay for their sins against him... they would all pay... and all he had to do, the Dragons whispered into his heart... all he had to do, was to first kill

	June- Year 4
	#194

Van Dyne Mansion

"And... we're supposed to believe you why exactly?"

"Because Jan..."

"Wasp."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a creature from Hell..."

"A princess of Hell actually... and ruler of Limbo..."

"Yeah, whatever... you're a princess of Hell and ruler of Limbo - I'd really rather you didn't address me by my first name."

"Fine, Wasp... what about you?"

Clea looked at her coldly, "Clea is fine... My other name would destroy your soul if you spoke it."

Satana looked to for signs that the reigning Sorcerer Supreme had made a joke. She saw none, so she continued...

"Because...Wasp..." she began again, more careful this time, "I'm telling you the truth. I really gain nothing from lying..."

"The Princess of Hell and ruler of Limbo gains nothing from lying? Tell me another one..."

"Well - I gain plenty from lying" Satana admitted, "But not in this case. In this case my brother and I are willing to stand in your corner... or at least not against you."

"Why didn't Daimon just come here himself?" Clea asked, "After all, he was at least a fellow Defender...once..."

"He still is..." Satana countered, "After all, once a Defender, always a Defender, right?"

"Unless of course you allow your wife to be..." Janet started, but Clea gave her a simple look at froze her.

"Very well" Clea said with a nod, "He's still technically a Defender... why did he not chose to come here himself... why come through you?"

"A number of reasons actually," Satana countered, "First there's the fact that, at least when I first showed up, there were quite a few members here that outright hated him for the whole.. Patsy incident..."

"When you first showed up?" Janet exclaimed, "Members... oh my god! How long have you been in my house?!?"

Satana smiled mischievously, "Quite some time..." she said, casting a quick glance over to the enthralled and immobile Hannibal King, "I was a guest of ... him.." she nodded to where he stood, "Before he turned on the group. Had I known his intentions toward you, or had any sign whatsoever, I would have stopped him sooner - or picked a better host."

"Why Hannibal?" And how are we to believe that you don't have anything to do with his turning? The man hated the idea of taking a human life - he hated the idea of drinking one's blood... and yet he seemed to do so without a second thought... how are we to know that you had nothing to do with it?" Janet demanded, practically staring up the taller woman's nostrils in the process, her head only reaching the area of Satana's barely concealed breasts.

"He was available" Satana dismissed with a shrug, "And he seemed like the right choice, at the time. Had I wished you harm, Ms. ...Wasp... I would have done so quite a bit earlier... as well as the fact that on my arrival I claimed sanctuary here as by right of my brother's claim as a Defender..."

"YOU claimed SANCTUARY in MY HOUSE!?!?"

"Yes, Ms. ... Wasp."

"But ... it's my house!"

"It's also the place where the Defenders dwell. Which makes it eligible."

Clea nodded, thoughtfully.

"And if you intended harm" Clea added, after a moment, "You would not have declared this place a place of safety, you WOULD NOT have been able to do harm in this house... ARE NOT able to do harm to anyone bearing the name Defender..."

Satana smiled and nodded. She cast an eye over at Hannibal King. She wanted to kill him... she would kill him for what he had done... but, as Clea had said, those things had to wait for the proper time.

"What was another one of the reasons?" Clea asked.

"Pardon?"

"You said that there were several reasons why your brother sent you instead of coming himself. One was that people here hated him - whereas I suppose they wouldn't have quite the personal issues with you... general ones, but barely anything personal."

"In comparison" Satana added helpfully.

"In comparison" Clea added to her statement, before continuing, "So what was another reason that Daimon Hellstorm sent you here?"

Satana stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say... should she just get it out in the open? Or was it better to take it one step at a time... was even worth her time? Daimon had thought so... she was more than a bit unsure though... she... hesitated and lost the chance to chose.

"He wants her to do something here" a woman's voice came from behind them. Satana managed to hide her surprise behind a knowing smile.

Janet and Clea turned quickly to see Rina Patel, their teammate Timeslip, whom they had seen die at the hands of Hannibal King, walking into the room. Janet cast a glance over to where the body was lying... it was still there, and yet... she shook her head... time paradoxes were not things to be taken lightly...

"And what is it that he wants her to do here?" Clea asked, suspiciously.

Rina grinned, like a school girl sharing a confidence, "He wants her to join the Defenders."

Nearby

"And so, there we were, face to face with Dr. Doom..."

"No you weren't."

"Sure we were. He was trying to cut in line at the Spy Who Shagged Me..."

"And that's why someone called the Defenders?"

"The Secret Defenders" Craig Hollis, the man known as Mr. Immortal replied with a confiding smile, "Just don't spread it around ok?"

The kid on the bike nodded. "So someone called the Secret Defenders to stop Dr. Doom from cutting in line?"

"Who would YOU call to deal with it?" Craig winked.

The kid on the bike stared for a moment, then looked back across the park, "I think I hear my mom calling." he said suddenly and took off on his bike, as far from the "strange man" as possible.

"That's funny..." Craig remarked, "I don't hear anything..."

His eyebrows were still white. Frost white. His heart though, that was full of hate.

They were going to pay.

They all were going to pay.

But first things first. He still had much to do. Much to accomplish. Much to practice his hate upon.

He stretched his hand across the map of what they knew of the world, looking for the right place. The right place and time... until his finger stabbed at Manhattan.

Kill the heart and the foe will fall. Sooner or later.

Kill the heart and all of Midgard would be his.

Janine De Loup heard the voices, somewhere above her, in the midst of the storm.

She'd heard them before anything else.

She stared up, wishing for Gaea...wishing for answers. But nothing had been so easy, not since she had been the Spirit of Vengeance personified. She stared up, sighing inwardly, wishing that she knew exactly how easy or hard things had TRULY been since that time. Everything was a blur... just one quick blur that raced in front of her... one moment she had been riding away from Chloe and Jean-Paul, setting out on her new life - that next, it was all over.

"It's not fair" she muttered to herself, feeling more than a bit of disgust at even the moment's self indulgence.

"No, it's not" a voice comes from out of the storm. "Maybe we can do something about that."

A hand reaches out. A giant hand that seems to break through the storm. "Take my hand" the voice says.

Janine looked down at her own hand, before looking back up at the giant one. It was normal sized, perhaps even a bit small. Inconsequential. There was simply no way she could reach up and take that hand. There was no way...

"Don't think about it" a male voice said abruptly, "Just do it - we haven't got all day".

She reached her hand upward toward the giant hand...toward the storm. Her puny hand, her inconsequential hand... her hand that suddenly met the other halfway... in equal proportion.

The hand, a woman's hand Janine realized. Slender and elegant... and yet, strong, seized her own and pulled.

She felt herself being yanked up...being yanked through the storm that had surrounded her...being yanked toward the ....light?

"Open your eyes Janine" the woman said.

She did so.

177A BLEECKER STREET

Such lovely babbles... he looked over each and every one of them. But only one drew him, only one of them commanded the attention of Kang the Conqueror.

He stood in the inner sanctum of the Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen Strange. He stood, and pondered.

The Orb of Agamotto sat on it's base in front of him... the perfect match to the one he had already *. Not just the match though - it was the very one he had, back with his real form.

(* Given to him by Halcyon in Journey into Mystery #137 - GD)

He had been drawn to this site - been drawn to a time when the might of Dr. Strange would not be able to detect his presence...that, and the matter of the baby, who was more than he seemed.

He stood outside of the stream of time, staring at this wonder that was also his. And he wondered if he should leave it to be found, to be given to himself in the future - or if he should take that step and simply take it... perhaps setting himself down of the road of someone like Halcyon.

Or perhaps... perhaps he should simply destroy it. Destroy it before a new Kang could come along and take possession of it. Before a new Kang could seize the opportunity for himself and attempt to challenge him.

There was only room for one Kang Prime. Only room for one original. He had seen to that any number of times. Halcyon had set him up in fact so that he might not have to bother with it in the future... and now... the baby...

If Halcyon had not seen the coming of a new possible Kang - what else had he not seen?

Kang stood in the center of the room, outside the timestream and stared at the marvel for several centuries of a moment, rewinding time over and over to that one point where he could decide within.

"And who do you think you are?" an unfamiliar voice demanded.

Kang the Conqueror turned and stared. Never before had anyone come into the room. This was something new. Something unexpected in the known bounds of time. Something ... that could be remedied.

He didn't respond, he merely stepped through time again to the point where he had started from.

"I'd suggest you answer me unless you want trouble friend." the man in the door seemed to repeat.

Kang looked over in more than a bit of concealed awe. Somehow this man was keeping a foothold open in the timestream to allow for his own consciousness of the nature of the fluidity. Or else, there was something else afoot.

Jericho Drumm, known to some as Brother Voodoo, stepped forward into what was the Inner Sanctum of the man who's legacy, and mortal form, he helped guard.

Kang stepped through the timestream once more to the moment he had arrived. This time, both Drumm and another man by the name of Anthony Ludgate, better known as the former Avenger Dr. Druid.

He raised his hand to cast something.

Kang the Conqueror stared in bemusement at the two magicians, reaching his thoughts out to pawns of his own.

Druid's hand was raised to cast a spell. But it was bitten instead.

Jericho felt the shimmer around them before he could react to it, before he could summon any of the others of the Magicians Circle from downstairs.

The rabid Mad Dog had appeared from out of time to lock his teeth around Druid's arm tightly, penetrating the skin with one fearsome lunge.

Drumm felt someone grab him from behind, and found himself on the floor before he knew what it had been.

Druid struggled, but fell like a lead weight... poisoned?... when Mad Dog released his dental grip on him.

Mad Dog gripped his head in pain. "Get me out of here you madman" he howled at Kang.

The Conqueror of time and space nodded, "The wards here cause you pain then?" he asked with a barely concealed delight in his voice, "Interesting". He pondered the meaning for a moment, and then turned back to his pawns.

"Very well" he said to all of them... of which Mad Dog had been the greatest summoned, "You shall return to your own times now. But know that I shall summon you when you must next do the bidding of the Secret Empire."

Mad Dog nodded, gritting his teeth in pain, "Seems like that's all I do anyway" he managed to get out before vanishing.

Kang turned back to the matter of the Orb of Agamotto.

He reached forward and placed his gauntlet on it's cool reflecting surface and fired.

Valhalla

She tightened her hands into fists, and pounded on the door again. "Let me the hell out of here!" Jennifer yelled, but there was no more response than there had been before.

She wanted to stop waiting to see what someone was going to do with her. She wanted answers, before there were none to be found.

Certainly, Asgard surely worked on a different idea of time than Earth - but even still, it had been days without contact, without answers, without... well, food and water came to mind as something she had certainly missed.

But her body was still strong. Oddly strong. The form that she had left would not have been able to be still standing, let alone have enough strength in it to keep up the yelling and beating on the door. Maybe Patsy Walker's presence had added something extra to her form, maybe it was something else entirely.

She wasn't sure, and at the moment at least she really didn't care as long as it stuck around and didn't just run out of her at the first sign of trouble.

"I need to do something" she muttered to herself, "I really need to do..." before she finished the sentence though, her body took over in automatic. Not running away though... far from it.

She saw her fist connect with the door again. But this time, instead of being sore from banging on the stoat Asgardian, and possibilty sorcerously enhanced, wood, her fist knocked it completely off it's hinges.

She stood for a moment, staring down at her fist in wonder. It wasn't even hurting. It wasn't even red. It was... powerful. Strong.

She looked up. So were the Valkyrie that were now running toward the door with their swords drawn.

She felt her body tense, and then she was among them. Punching and kicking at them. Knocking the sword blows away with a fierce accuracy, knocking them down without much problem whatsoever.

Jennifer March watched as if from a great distance as she was doing all of this... feeling as if something had taken over her for a moment, leaving her a passenger in her own body. She felt her mind go out to the remaining Valkyries.

Their minds were so... alien. So... intense. Her inward self shrunk back from it... but whatever was out didn't, it pushed through their defenses easily. "Sleep" it told them, pushing the right combination of psychic buttons in their heads.

They slumped over, one after the other. ,/p>

Jennifer March stood in the Great Hall of Valhalla, having just somehow defended a handful of Valkyries and whispered a name into the recesses of her mind, "Patsy?"

There was no reply.

After Kyle Richmond, aka Nighthawk, felt the stirrings of the summoning, he vowed to keep an eye open at all times. The group had been taken down from the ceiling and were being transported down a corridor. When they got to a secluded room, then and only then did the guards depart. He pretended to still be in a trace, like the others, hoping that he was doing a good enough job at it.

There was more going on here than met the eye. Certainly more than he had answered his old teammates about. There was something... sinister about his new team the Moonguard. Maybe it was the fact that the team was being "stored", for lack of a better term, being battles. Maybe though, it was the fact that everyone appeared to be dead. Including himself.

All in all, being dead didn't seem to be all that different from being alive. Except of course the fact that he didn't get hungry, or really need sleep... and the fact that he was no longer breathing in and out on a regular basis was certainly a difference he felt was worth noting.

"Awaken" Moonstone ordered.

Kyle allowed his eyes to flutter open, hoping that it was the way these things normally worked. Apparently it was, Moonscythe and Moondancer were both doing the same thing. Unless of course, we're ALL faking, he mused, but dismissed the idea. He had seen them hanging without any problems at all. Unless he missed his guess, he was the only one of them aware of their current state.

"We have tracked down a threat to humanity" Moonstone was saying, "He was spotted entering New York this morning... our job is to find him and take him down before he causes any loss of life and property."

"Who is it?" Moonscythe asked.

Moonstone smiled, "His name is Robert Bruce Banner - better known as the Hulk."

Moondancer noticeably shuddered.

"We're taking on the Hulk?" Kyle found himself asking. Bruce was an old friend, at least he used to be. Even with all the times he had just wanted to be left alone... even with all the times that things hadn't gone the way they should have between them.. Bruce was still a friend.

Moonstone nodded, "I know your connection to him Moonglider," she said, sensing his discomfort, "But you of all people know what could happen if he were to go amuk inside the city limits."

Kyle nodded, reluctantly. He also knew what could happen if the Hulk was challenged within the city limits. And it wasn't pretty.

It wasn't pretty at all.

NEXT: Janine De Loup gets down to the bottom of what is going on AND Jennifer March against the Valkyrie as the fate of Brunnhilde is revealed!

Send mail to: Gary Dreslinski