Failure.

The taste of it was in her mouth, eating away at the edges of everything that she was, telling her that no matter what she did, she would never be enough.

It was hardly a new sensation, but this time, this time it felt different. More real. It hit from behind and just kept hitting her while she was down. Because that's what failure does, she reasoned. It hits you when you're at your lowest, your most vulnerable. It strikes when you can't strike back. Failure is a coward. Failure is a loner.

The Norse Goddess of Death Hela was a failure. She knew it.

The woman in front of her knew it as well.

It was just a matter of what she would be willing to give to get whatever it took to stop being one.

The woman was silent. The man at her side was not.

His name was Maximus the Mad, one of the Inhumans. If Hela hadn't known him by sight, his reputation would have heralded his appearance.

After all, there were very few men walking around with the sword Dragonfang, the sword of the Valkyrie Brunnhilde, embedded in their chest. There was, in fact, only one of those men and his name was Maximus.

Maximus knew that she was a failure as well. She could see it in his eyes when they had retrieved, rescued... or whatever they wanted to call it to help her save face, from the void. She was still uncertain how they had done it, or where she was in the first place. All that she knew is that a betrayal at the hands of Satan had put her there. That, and the

	July- Year 5
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and if one was unavailable to strike in retribution, that anyone who wanted to help get back at the other was a friend.

"What are you prepared to offer?" she heard herself ask.

Maximus raised his eyebrows in delight, "The little piggies on a plate," he hissed, "All you have to do is to be ready to take them - when the time is right."

"In exchange for?"

"Whatever we require. Resources, influence... that which is yours by right."

"That which has been usurped by Ollerus," Hela corrected, "I sense him. He's amassed himself an army. He's planning to take over the Golden Realm as we speak. You're backing the wrong horse. Why not offer the deal to him?"

Maximus's eyes fell on the woman, looking for answers. She shook her head, "Ollerus is no of note. He shall be gone with the wind. What we need is the person who will be there when the time comes. That is you."

Hela inclined her head, "I certainly hope you're right."

The woman smiled sagely, "I am".

"What will you give me?"

"You mean besides your life?" Maximus asked.

Hela didn't respond.

"We're the people who are going to get your throne back for you."

Hela felt her eyes go wide for a split second, before regaining her composure. "This I shall be interested in seeing." she said calmly.

The woman in front of her started laughing, her eyes gleaming with power... and just kept laughing...

No one dared to move.

Brunnhilde stared at those assembled: her fellow Valkyrie; her fellow Defenders. They had been fighting each other. Now though, now they were waiting to see what she would do.

Her gaze passed over all, "The next person to attack dies" she declared at last, "We will brook no further violence from you."

The Valkyrior, astride their winged steeds, descended from the heavens, landing amass in front of their declared leader, and possible savior.

They had been wavering, waiting to hear her out. But as soon as Brunnhilde had returned, Satanna had lost her audience. They had gone from deciding if attacking a daughter of Hell was in their best interests to dismissing her presence.

She rolled her eyes as she watched the Valkyrior re-swearing their oaths beneath her.

They had been on the verge of giving up the fight, she had felt it. They weren't going to risk fighting her. Now though, now they would never know what would have happened. She would never know the glory of facing down the best that Asgard had to offer. No one would know that she had saved the team. No one would sing her praises... Satanna watched Brunnhilde and quietly seethed.

She allowed the emotion a moment to sink in, and wondered why she even cared if the mortals noticed what she had done for them.

She wasn't sure, perhaps she wanted them to think her valuable... to like her.

Satanna shook her head and allowed a cackle to escape her throat. That could not be, she decided, for the daughter of Satan would never truly care if mortals thought her a friend. Not in her heart at least... never in her soul...

He pulled at the thread, ripped at it, tore into it. That thread that kept him from rejoining the living, he pushed the full force of his will into it. To no avail. The frenzy of old was in him now, pulsating in his veins the way that blood no longer did. Harokin felt it, he reveled in it, using it to push harder at the gate of life, redoubling his efforts.

The gate in his being held, whatever magic had laid him low was more powerful, or at least subtle enough to circumvent brute force. He pulled his will in for another strike, one that, he hoped, would pay for all.

The gate burst before he could release, life pouring back into his body, into his rage without warning.

He screamed, and jumped to his feet sword in hand and fire in his eyes. Someone was going to pay.

She had seen it coming, but when the hosts of Ollerus the Unmerciful arrived, it was still a sight to behold. Even the assembled Valkyrior did a double take at the sheer size and variance of their foe. But that was not what made them take a step back.

Ollerus, even in the distance, could be seen on his steed. Rina Patel, Timeslip, knew the future. She had seen glimpses of moments past the next few. That and that alone gave her hope that they would somehow find a way to find victory against the man who rode astride the great beast known as Fenris.

The walls expanded, the doors of perception were opened onto William Blake's infinity. All at once, Doorman understood everything he had not. He saw himself... a great number of himselfs, coming and going. Always coming and going... he had opened a door into the heart of Yggdrasil, the world tree... he had opened it, and now he was a part of it. He felt his mind going down paths he had never dreamed about... experiencing things he had never given a single thought to the possibility of their existence. He stood on shores of different worlds, worlds where the sun was always setting, world's where the sun never set... he reached out his hands and touched the face of creation... and started laughing.

Doorman touched creation... caressed its face... and was lost.

His body collapsed in a heap as it was expelled from the tree of life, as lifeless as it was mindless.

"Stand fast!" The voice of Janet Van Dyne, the Wasp, echoed across the battlefield. She had started life as a socialite. In truth, there were more than a few that still thought of her as someone who thought more about her wardrobe, more about her social obligations than anything of importance. Those were people who didn't look into her eyes when she continued to mindless act. Those were people who never heard her voice echoing across the field in Asgard, calling to her troops, to her Defenders, to hold their ground.

She felt the lump in her throat. No matter how many times the Avengers had gone into battle, no matter how many times they had by choice or circumstances, managed to waltz into the middle of a full fledged war, it never got any easier. The Defenders, the host of Valkyrior, they were on her side. At least the latter were for the moment. What they faced though, was an assembled evil the like she had not seen in quite some time.

From behind his forces, Ollerus the Unmerciful laughed. His sound too echoed across the field. His troops, dead and living alike took up the laughter as a battle cry. They laughed, they screamed, and they continued to close ground toward their foes.

He tasted it in the air. Death was coming at them. Not just any death. REAL death. From what he had been able to understand, from what Brunnhilde was saying, from what the other, Harokin, was screaming at the top of his lungs, the man who's forces were closing in was not only the current Asgardian God of Death - he was also the one who controlled death. He was the one who could decide who lived and who died.

Kyle Richmond, Nighthawk, watched the approach of his foes with trepidation. On one hand, this was clearly the bad guy. He was trying to destroy Asgard, and from there who knew what else. On the other... there was no easy way to put it, he had stopped death.

Kyle felt for a pause he knew hadn't been there for quite a while. He had died... a long time ago. And yet, here he was. He still wasn't quite sure what to make it of. Was this some sort of trick by Mephisto? By the Dragons? Was his entire existence some sort of fluke? One that could be taken away as easily as it had been given?

If Ollerus did indeed have power over death, did that mean that he had also gained knowledge?

What could he possibly share? What could he possibly DO?

Kyle watched as the army approached, wondering...

It was all about the waiting. The moment between the time that her fist would be brought into play, the moment before her entire being would be brought into play, and the moment when it was. That was all that there really was, Chloe Boudreaux reminded herself. When you were a living weapon, that was all that there could ever really be. When you were the Fist of the Moon God. When you cried yourself to sleep at night, feeling abandoned by the one who was once closer than anyone had ever been to her in the entire existence. When your god turned a blind eye to you.

All that was left was to wait for the next fight. All that was left... were the secrets. She paused at that thought. There was still so much to uncover, about her past... about her family. There was still so much that she longed to know. Perhaps, in that search... perhaps she could find her god again. Perhaps, she mused, she could find what was left of herself.

She stood, waiting for the battle to come to her. And wondering...

Lemar Hoskins, Battlestar, raised his shield just in time to turn the rain of arrows. The enemy continued to advance, firing to cover their advance. They were met by a volley from the Valkyrior in return. Lemar cursed under his breath, wishing that the battle would be joined. He knew that he would regret it as soon as it did, but the waiting was the part that he hated the most. The arrows continued to fall on both sides. He shielded himself as well as he could. Until Ollerus was defeated, until his spell was broken, death even in the Golden Realm was a one way street.

He tapped his finger against the back of the energy shield, humming a tune to himself. He couldn't remember the name, but he knew that it had something to do with home.

The battle had been joined a few minutes before. Rina Patel, Timeslip, sat with Doorman resting on her lap, waiting. Sooner or later, someone was going to break through. Sooner or later, history was going to be set. She'd seen in while within the Yggdrasil. It was only a matter of time. The rest of the team was fighting alongside the Valkyrie. They fought bravely. They fought as if their lives depended on it. Rina knew that they did. But she also knew that one of the enemy was going to break through the defenses... she knew that he...

"What do we have here?" a horrible voice hissed.

She didn't have to turn to know who was there. She had seen his face in her vision. "Ollerus the Unmerciful." she replied, "There is still time to change things."

He smiled, a cruel smile, "While your friends are engaged with the enemy, while they are busy with the false image of myself astride Fenris... as if the great beast could be unchained and ridden, I shall take care of the only one present who really is any sort of threat to my plans."

"Me?" she asked, as if underwater. Everything seemed so familiar, and yet so new. He shook his head, "That one," he answered, pointing to Doorman, "You may have no idea what or who he is, of what he is capable of doing - but I do. Like always calls to like."

Rina stared at him with glassy eyes, "Harming him means harming me first." she proclaimed as though in a trace, "And harming me means that you lose it all. Trust me, I've seen this future. Walk away and you might still be able to win. Lose, and well, let's just say that I don't envy your fate."

Ollerus laughed at her and stepped forward, his deadly sword slashing downward.

Satanna heard the screams. Through the din of battle, she had heard the screams of pain. She wasn't sure how she did it, with so many other people screaming. With so many other people on both sides falling, twitching on the ground begging for release.

She beat back another attack with a round of pure hellfire in the faces of anyone ignorant enough to seek to best her before turning her attention to tracking the sound down.

She saw it instantly, beneath the Yggdrasil, beneath the Tree of Life, that was where death lurked.

She saw Ollerus the Unmerciful there... the one who had set so much of this in motion. She saw him pulling his sword out of someone... she looked again as she found herself running forward, as she heard her own voice drown out that of the battle itself with pure rage. He was pulling his sword out from where it had been embedded in the skull of Rina Patel, of Timeslip.

Images flashed in Satanna's head. She remembered first arriving at the Van Dyne mansion. She remembered talking with the older Timeslip, of what good friends that they were going to be. Talking about acceptance. Talking... talking about things that would never be. Talking about things that Ollerus had just made moot.

Her sword of fire lept to her hand.

Ollerus the Unmerciful half-turned to see who was screaming. Her sword met his head half-way. There was no battle. No mercy. Just a single stroke of her sword coming in contact with his exposed neckline at just the right angle.

The head of Ollerus the formerly Unmerciful slid from its shoulders and bounced once on the damp ground before coming to rest. The rest of the body stood there for a moment, as if trying to understand what had just happened, before falling, and never rising again.

With the sounds of the dying battle around her, Satanna went to her knees with the body of the woman, the girl really, who was supposed to be her friend. Certainly, she was the closest thing among her teammates, but they had never gotten the chance to become truly close. They had never gotten the chance to do... so much.

Satanna reached out with her being, feeling out the edges of the retreating spell of Ollerus, broken at its master's death. Perhaps she could use the fact that death here was no longer final. Perhaps she could... she pushed at the barrier between life and death. But it held firm.

The daughter of Satan - the sister of Daimon Hellstorm, looked down at the face of the one who might have called her friend and cried not tears of blood, but those of pain. She pushed one last time, pushed to grant Rina whatever life that she could... she pushed past the wall, she pushed into Rina herself... she pushed everything that she had, every last drop through that veil, hoping, praying to anyone who would listen to let her do one good thing in her life.

She pushed, and pushed, and pushed... until the darkness reached out and took her.

Rina Patel opened her eyes, and knew that she was being carried in someone's arms. She looked up and smiled weakly, "Did we win?"

Battlestar nodded, somber. He allowed himself a slight smile at the girl who's weight he bore, "I guess you could say that." he replied.

She glanced over to where Nighthawk was carrying Doorman, still unconscious, certainly never the same again.

Chloe wasn't looking at anyone else. But the Wasp was glaring at her. Rina wondered what had been said while she was out. She wondered what had been DONE.

The one called Harokin walked beside them.

"Where's Brunnhilde?" Rina found herself asking, "We came for her after all."

Battlestar shook his head, "She said that her place was here. That she needed to repair the damage before she could even consider coming back to Earth. But Harokin there thought that he might want to come see what we're all about. He seems nice enough, a bit on the creepy side though, if you know what I mean."

Rina nodded briefly. It hurt to move her head, "What happened anyway? One minute I was facing Ollerus... the next, I was in your arms. Where's Satanna anyway?"

Battlestar didn't answer. He just kept staring straight ahead.

She asked again.

He stopped walking, and turned around for her to see a single gravemarker under the Tree of Life. One with the hilt of a flaming sword sticking out from it. A grave of someone who had, in death, done the one good deed that had escaped her in life... in the name of a friendship she could never enjoy.

NEXT: TRIPLE QUEST continues with STRANGE MATTERS. And if you think you've had surprises so far... well, you haven't seen anything yet!!!

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