So it was with renewed interested that Zemo had set up several meetings with Hellcat (had she allowed him to call her "Patsy" yet, Zemo wonders...) in creating several protocols to allow the assembled heroes to remain in contact with one another, thanks to Jarvis and his team's Projective Electro-Imagers.
Otherwise, however, Zemo continues the blind routine of the independently wealthy. Travel, physical training and practice, fine dining and waited on hand and foot... all tempered with the fact that Zemo doesn't know where his father had received all the money in the first place (far more beyond that of a baron, after all,) nor why he was forced from Germany after his family name was disgraced.
In a weird coincidence, the Projective Electro-Imager started to beep. Had Hellcat activated it? Zemo leaps to the Imager and activates it, thinking he'll see the Projected image of a familiar face. Instead, the disembodied image is of a shrouded, shadowed man wrapped in a purple cloth.
"My... son" comes the familiar face. "I am dying. But I must speak with you. I expect you to come alone to the roof of the Natural History Museum. Friday at midnight."
Zemo's father still has the same demanding tone... at once infuriating and softening the emotions of his son. Still, if he's dying, why meet at the Natural History Museum? Why use the Projective Electro-Imager, which was only recently created and whose existence is known only by the Evengers?
Zemo summons Jarvis, to tells him to ready the Zemo armor with its newest component...
"Very good, sir," Jarvis bows, "Indeed, preliminary test have been completed on the Kree device you had stolen. It can now easily be integrated into your armor."
The Black Knight awakens from his induced trance. Thankfully, this trance didn't end in sleep, which often brings with it conflicted dreams of dragons and munitions tanks. Unfortunately, it did end. For not the first time, the Black Knight wonders how he might manage to pour a beer down his helmeted visor. Not that he could die from lack of sustenance, (the blasted armor seemed to keep him alive even without food or water) but something in his mind just needed that damned beer. And a cigarette.
Suddenly, a disembodied light flickered into reality before him. The Knight was given a "Projective Electro-Imager" by Hellcat in order to keep all the Avengers in touch... was this a summons? The Black Knight felt his body stiffen, fallen on his knees, with arms prostrate... "Ah, hell," Nathan Garrett thought, as Garrett's consciousness became snuffed while the Knight knelt before the light...
"Greetings, Black Knight!" a cheerful voice said, coming from the bobbing head of a diminutive sprite, "I am Jackdaw, elfin emissary for Morgan le Fey, queen of the fair ones! We know of your plights, and want to know what you will choose with the gift you've been given in the form of your armor!"
Nathan Garret finally manages to gain control of his body once again. Wait! That's no imp! It's a disembodied Electronic Image projection-- but it's no one familiar.... or is it? It's a man shrouded and shadowed in a purple cloth...
"Nathan Garrett! It is I, your leader! I have need of you-- I expect you to come alone atop the roof of the Natural History Museum, Friday at midnight!"
Wait! Why was this image given over the Electro-Imager? Who was this leader-- no doubt from the mercenary days of Nathan Garrett...
only a few minutes until midnight, the Black Knight heads toward teh museum, when a voice pipes up from behind him... "But Noble Knight! What be your decision? Do you want to be free of your armor, a normal man once more, but never immortal nor powerful? Or do you want to keep the undefeatable power you have found?"
Ha! Imp, now Nathan Garrett is in control, and his answer is.... Hm.. What is it?
BK: this armor surely is a pain, I haven't had a piece of ass in months! But it is nice to be able to survive explosions with all me legs and arms and willie and such. And I rather like this sword. If getting rid of the armor means getting rid of this bleedin' crazy knight in me head, though, I just don't know! But If there's anything I learned in me days, don't take te job until you've put in the time. I'm gonna have to keep on as I am for now, ya fairy!
Suddenly the little elfin figure turns blood-red in anger. "What did you just call me? I... am a Fairy?! A FAIRY!! That's it!!"
Grabbing BK's helmet, he twists it around, jerking the Knight's body as he tries to walk away. "Listen to me, you big prick! I'm an ELF, got that!? A freakin' SIDHE of the HIGH REALM, Butthead! Now if you want to keep that rusted-ass aluminum siding you call an enchanted armor, you'll listen ta me! Unless you want to be plagued by demons, wild hosts, and creepy crawlies that'll crawl up your nose to give you nightmares that'll make you want to blow your brains out each morning, you'll get this-- the Black Knight works for Morgan Le Fey, got that? And there's not a thing you can do about it! Now you gonna listen to me or what?!"
The Bk knocks the little creep's hands away, and gives him the Harrison-Ford-pointing-finger-in-the-face.
BK: Oy! Listen, shorty, I don't take none of that shit from anybody no more, got it! I'm my own man these days I don't take orders from no one, no how! You and your Morgan Le Fey can kiss my arse! The Black knight is nobody's Boy! If your Morgan wants to have me on her side then she should come to me with an offer of partnership, not threats! Until then, we're done talking! Got anything more to say you can take it up with me ebony blade!
And the black knight steps back into a fighting stance whilst whipping out that horrible implement of death and destruction that the bards did once sign of with awe and fear!
BK: And make it quick, I've got to get to the Natural history Museum on Friday!
The Elf backs away with hands raised. "Fine, fine, fine!" He wipes his hands as if they were dusty. "Have it your way! But whatever feelings of insecurity you are overcompensating for by relying on that exterior shell better keep you happy for a bit! If you dare use your sword to take a life without Morgan Le Fey's permission, your will forfiet your existence. Remember, wassock, if your armor keeps you immortal, how come you were able to find it empty?"
BK: Well faith and begorrah to you, pally! Immortality sure seems like a good deal 'till you've had to live with Sir Launcelot in your bloody head! Poor blighters probably killed themselves to get away from the bastard! hmm, that's not such a bad idea, really, have to remember that. But plenty of other people worth killing before it comes to that. Now I better get to the museum and find out what this chap wants from me. He seems somehow familiar...
BK resheathes his mighty blade and sets off again, thoughts of that strange sprite quickly fading from his consciousness, or are they merely being submerged, perhaps into the consciousness of another...
And yet, what a bunch of misfits they all are. Your research has pulled up some amazing finds... Baron Zemo, a heir to the name and fortune of a confirmed Nazi war criminal who disappeared without a trace... Venom, a girl from the wrong side of the tracks with all the hard breaks of life, Rick Jones, a waif and a ragamuffin who nonetheless managed to become half-integrated with a murderous alien empire... Moon Knight, a man without a past, until a check with police revealed him to be a two-bit hood who was reported dead with a few months ago... And then there's Thor and the Black Knight.... who can't be accounted for whatsoever...
Yes, it's a good thing that Hellcat instigated the protocols to keep this loose bands of super powered individuals in contact with another. She would have preferred not relying on Baron Zemo too much, but the Projective Electro-Imagers he provided are invaluable.
A knock sounds on Hellcat's office door, the one leading inot the interior waiting room. Patsy walks over, and she opens the door to reveal... a candlelit dinner set for two, complete with lacy tablecloths over the desk, gilded and covered dishes, and champagne on ice.
"Romeo..." Patsy folds her arms, looking at the familiar snitch in her office. It's a shame she had to resort to use his... services, but he does seem able to get all the information Patsy ever seems to need...
"Bonjour," the suave, well dressed man gestures to a chair at the "table," "I thought we might conduct... business over dinner. I have some interesting information regarding those two gentlemen you were looking for. Oysters?"
Romeo puts up a bit of resistance, a little upset at Hellcat's spurning of his advances, especially after all the trouble of creating a candlelight supper. But soon, after a well-placed "Oh, is that my new secretary?", Hellcat snatches the snitch's files as his head is turned, and it's only a matter of pushing coming to shoving to get Romeo out the door.
Settling down to a brief dinner for one (Romeo did pick out some great shellfish, though) Patsy looks through a typed dossier of sorts, supplemented by official looking FBI documents and surveillance pictures. Hmmm, it appears that our Thor and Black Knight have a bit of a history. Black Knight worked as a hired gun on both sides of WWII, but as much on the side of the Axis as any. What's more, a man described only as "Thor" was also fighting, exclusively even, for the Nazis. With significantly less hair, and a bit more weight, it certainly looks like the Thor that helped against the Supreme Intelligence... There's a strong possibility these two have fought together against "Our Boys" all those years ago.
Hellcat opens another file in her desk, and adds these dossiers to it. Spreading the information on the desk, Hellcat considers: Moon Knight answers the description of a street punk with a rap sheet a mile long, Baron Zemo claims to be a descendant of the famous Nazi super criminal, Rick Jones was dominated by a hostile alien force, and now there's proof that Patsy is also working with a mercenary Nazi Knight and a Nazi god. Hmmm, Zemo, Black Knight, and Thor... could there be a connection there?
Hellcat considers long into the evening, but soon has to pack up to prepare for the arrival of the assembled Avengers...
"Beck?! Damn, you scared the @#)! out of me!" the weasel faced youth spit out. Moments later, Eddie is looking through MK's fridge. "Jeez, man, I knew times were a little rough for you, but this?" He takes a small container out, sniffing it with a grimace, "Osiris brand hummus? What the #&#@?"
MK crosses his arms and stares at Eddie. "It's...uh...health food. Nasty stuff, but they say it's supposed to be good for you. I read about it in one of the papers. Beer's on the bottom shelf."
Eddie takes out a beer and helps himself. "I came by since you were behind on your rent, and thought I might take advantage of a roof before it gets repo'ed. Where ya been man? I even heard you were dead... altough you do look kinda pale..."
"Dead? Where'd you hear that? Come on, man. I leave town for a little bit and suddenly you're all fighting for my scraps? And so what if I don't have a tan like those pretty boys uptown. I do my best work at night." MK looks down at his arms. Eddie's right, they are pretty pale.
Eddie shrugs it off, but then his eyes brighten "Anyway, there's a big round-up goin' down tommorrow night at four pm-- big warehouse and everything. They say it's goin' to be BIG! I mean REALLY BIG! They're going to everybody there-- even managed to get the Maggia and Silvermane to call a truce, if the rumors are to be believed. It's going to be great, man! You gotta do it! What d'ya say? They even are givin' out hard cash as a sign of good faith"
And Eddie throws a wad of bills on the grimy dining room table...
MK stared hard at the money. In the days before his resurrection by Khonshu, he would've already been out the door to go collect his 'sign of good faith.' But now it wasn't greed or power that motivated him. The chill creeping up his spine reminded him that he was always under the watchful eye of Khonshu. He could almost feel his presence in the room. It looked like more downtime after his adventure with the Avengers out west wasn't in the cards. The Maggia also interested him. He still hadn't learned the identity of his killers that night at the warehouse, but they were on his list of suspects.
"4pm, eh? Who's handing out the cash and where are they now?"
MK forces a smile. "Yeah...just like old times..."
This predicament poses a problem. Time to think fast and work even faster. "Hey, Eddie. Tell ya what. I'm hungry and I need a shower. Why don't I call us in a pizza down at Gino's and you can run down and pick it up while I hose off? My treat."
Eddie shrugs and soon walks out the door. Malcolm Beck stuffs his MK gear in a duffel bag and slides out the window while he's gone. He leaves Eddie a note saying a girl called and invited him over, so he won't be back until late. He can make himself at home. With Eddie out of the way, Moon Knight heads into the darkened streets to contact Hellcat and the Avengers with that communicator gizmo to tell them about this meeting tomorrow...
Suddenly, a voice booms from a corner of the "aerie."
"RICK JONES! FINALLY, I FIND YOU!"
The form of a small bird shimmers, and in its place, an all-too familar form-- the Skrull alien that first attacked Rick after his close encounter!
The Skrull nods in acknowledgement, pleased. "Ah, it is good to see that you are not as Kree as we first met. As I have come to realize, we share a common talent-- skrulls, not unlike yourself, seem very resistent to the Integration into the Supreme Intelligence."
"I have to warn you, however, that you are not free from its influence. As you can guess, the Kree taint within you is still there. The Supreme Intelligence absorbs all it touches-- organic, inorganic. Your mind, your muscles... your battle armor that you have not even removed. Yes, even in that blaster that you are holding... hm. Perhaps you are not as free from influence as I thought."
Rick blinks his eyes. It's true. There is an increasing rage that seems to be welling up inside him, just by listening to the Skrull speak. With horror, Rick realizes that he has unconsciously grabbed the blaster handle entirely-- although he had just meant to let his hand stray near it!
The Skrull continues, "The Supreme Intelligence is like a cancer. It is not disappeared, merely dormant. By surrounding yourself, clothing yourself, with remnants of the Kree, that cancer will fester, grow stronger, and eventually overwhelm you. Beware."
The Skrull shifts again, this time into a bird of prey, preparing to fly out hte window. "You can, of course, destroy the Kree accoutrements you have acquired. This will leave you feeling totally and utterly alone, to the point of suicidal depression, BUT you will stem the tide of having the cancer consume you. Consider it wisely. You may become empty handed, but there will be something that will take its place."
"Wait...what do you mean, something will take its place? Hold it! WHO ARE YOU??"
"As for the second question, I am the Skrullian Spymaster, guardian of humanity against the threat of the Kree. As for the fist question," the hawk continues, "I cannot say. Because you have the survived integration process, you have something inside you that will allow you to rise from the ashes. I have heard of partial integrals who have stemmed the tide of their ultimate integration for six months, maybe even a year. But eventually you must discover your hidden talents or be consumed by the war within you. I cannot tell you how, only that it must take place."
With that, the hawk spreads its wings and leaps into the evening air...
He makes his way to the hall of his semi-affluent apartment. At the doorway stand two gentlemen... obvious literature professors at ESU.
"Good God, Woodson! Where have you been!" shouts one at Thor, noticing his shuffling gate, due in part to the massive girdle of strength being hidden by Thor's shabby trenchcoat.
The other man silences his partner. "Dr. Woodson," he introduces himself to Thor, "you remember me, Dr. Simonson, your department liason at the University? This is Dr. Kavanaugh, whom you might recognize as fellow chariman of teh World Arts Committee. Can we talk?"
(Purposely laying on the accent) "Of course ve kin talk. Von't choo come insite gentlemint. Kin I get choo a dvink? You von't mind if I haff von? (Thor makes himself a drink). Haff some seats gentlemint pleas. (Thor makes another drink)
Dr. Simonson continues, concerned about Thor's somewhat brusque attitude and lack of somewhat more sophisticated manners. "We are here to address some serious concerns about your... somewhat erratic performance as professor. Last week, you had disappeared for a considerable amount of time without, what we believe, considerable notice..."
Dr. Kavanaugh speaks up, anxiously, "And what we hear from your students is not any more pleasing. Apparently, your lectures are becoming more and more haphazard, rambling, and are completely disregarding the approved syllabi! Some of the theories you spout regarding these myths fly in the face of established canon, and you don't even bring materials with you to the podium, speaking entirely from memory!
"Aye. Und vhy shoult I use der furshlugger books vhen I kin remember everytink?"
Dr. Simonson speaks up: "Well, it's not so much your ability to remember that is the question, but when you don't speak from the textbook and don't *carry* a textbook..."
"I haff a teckst boosh aront here somevhere. Unt very goot von too. Boot I haff everytink locked avay in my mindt so not to verry mine freunds."
Dr. Kavanaugh continues unabated: "You seem to get very upset if the students don't regurgitate your version of these myths in their tests! Why, my own daughter had receiv..."
Dr. Simonson cuts him off here, "What we are saying, Dr. Woodson, is that tenure considerations are coming up soon, but we are concerned that... I beg your pardon, but... Is that... Is that a... goat?!"
Thor reacts, as if coming out of his daydream. At his right hand, a large, fluffy white goat calmly takes another bite out of the tweed armchair Thor currently sits upon...
"Aye a goat, yah. You gentlemint do not haff pets? Tanngrisner! My precious one! You Live! By my very life I never thought to see you again!" He hugs the goat as if to crush a normal goat.
The two professors look at each other uncomfortably as Thor continues talking in Old Norse to the goat. The goat doesn't seem to really acknowledge Thor's presence, but continues to munch on the ratty armchair.
After several awkward moments, the men politely cough. "Yes, uh," Dr. Simonson continues, "Just... think about your job performance,Dr. Woodson. We would hate for you to miss any additional classes, at the very least."
"I shall not abandon my duties, unless it is a matter of life and death, on dat you haff my vord!"
"Yes!" shouts Dr. Kavanaugh, "Well, it would behoove you well to follow the prescribed expectations of your position. I..." AAAAIIIEEEEE!!!!!
Dr Kavanaugh shrieks as he becomes suddenly aware of the presence of the Black Goat, who takes another chunk from the bottom of Dr. K's woolen trousers, slowly chewing...
"Tanngjost! Mu lovely one! You live too! This is truly the greatest and greatest of days! The kindly ones reward me for being of service to mankind once more! Truly I am blessed on this day!"
Nearly falling over himself and then Dr Simonson to get away from the bleating goat, Dr Kavanaugh scrambles toward the door. The Goat trots after him, manageing to pull off the right shoe of Dr K and munches it solemnly. Dr. K flails about, knocking over the couch and sending both professors tumbling. Dr K knocks the table containing Thor's liquor, which spills over everywhere...
"Blaspheming bastard!!!!! (sob!) My alcohol . . .!"