"Herr Zemo, the tests from the new photonics refraction coating have been correlated, with successful results!" reported Technician Lang. "I believe that with some adaptation, we can use the coating to provide supplemental energy to the armor power cells."

"You have my permission to proceed, Lang. Keep me appraised of developments" finished Zemo, switching off his comlink as he continued to scan his global news abstract reports.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Sir, but you have an urgent telephone call on line three, from a Sergeant Watson of the NYPD" interrupted Jarvis.

"Very well, Jarvis. I'll take it here." Zemo switched his comlink reciever to the appropriate line, forced the irritation from his voice as he answered. "Good afternoon, Sergeant....Wilson, is it?"

"Yes sir, Sergeant Maria Watson. My partner and I would like to beg a favor of you - we'd like to set up a meeting with you and your Marvel friends. I was given your number by Ororo & Associates." Zemo had hired the prestigeous public relations firm to begin a campaign to fight the lingering doubts in the public mind that Zemo and his associates were in any way connected with the Nazi regime. A Federal inquiry had cleared them of any charges and unfrozen his funds, but Zemo was never one to leave things to chance.

"Hello? Mr. Zemo?"

"Sorry, Wilson, i was just thinking." Zemo hasn't fully decided what to do about this call. He doesn't think the other Marvels are friends and is kind of insulted that these Sergeant would make such a suggestion. On the other hand, he needs the good press. "I'll call the other Marvels. I wouldn't count on their assistance, they aren't the most trustworthy lot. However, you can count on my assistance in this matter. Just tell me when and where you'd like to meet."

After the Sergeant provides Zemo with the information, he turns off the commlink and turns to Jarvis, "Have Lang add the new coating to my armor before my meeting, if time permits. And hire some cleaning staff in case those ingrates bring more of their pets or themselves into my mansion."

Jarvis shudders at the thought of Thor's goats and the amazingly bad odors emitted by both the Black Knight and Thor. He almost faints when he remembers that one of the newer heroes is a monkey.

"Shall I make the arrangements, Sir?" asks Jarvis. He knows that Zemo con be obsessed with details, but somehow feels that the less he is forced to deal with the other members of the team, the smoother the course of events.

"Please!" dismisses Zemo, putting the matter from his mind.

Dr. Vaughn answers Hellcat's comlink. "Jarvis, good of you to call. I'm afraid Patsy is on a bit of a sabatical, off on...well...a soul quest." Jarvis declines to mention the meeting to Dr. Vaughn, and after a few pleasantries moves on.

Thor Put down the copy of Saturday Evening Post he had been reading when he heard the familiar sound. A faint smile crossed his face. The buzzing meant that someone at least felt they needed him, and being needed made him feel both useful and alive.

The buzzing was muffled somewhat. The com-link was locked in a strongbox that Thor had purchased after one of his goats had eaten the com-link some months earlier. The strongbox was big enough and thick enough that not even his goats would be able to make a meal of it.

Thor walked into his bedroom. It was a monument to disorder. Piles of clothes in various states of cleanliness draped every drapable surface and lay in crumpled piles over every other surface. It was a far cry from his mighty hall of old-- filled with long tables and singing warriors swinging tankards of mead and lager in their grizzled fists. But it was home now. Thor kicked at various piles of pants and coats and shirts until his foot struck something hard enough to be the strongbox holding the by now slightly annoying buzzing com-link. Bending down with a creak of his back, Thor shoveled the pile of clothes off the strong box with his big ruddy hands, and lifted the box onto the sagging goose down mattress on his oak framed bed. Now to open it and answer the now slightly more annoying buzzing.

Thor kept the key to the box on a large key ring on a nail in the wood paneled wall by his bedroom closet door. All his keys were on this key ring. It was a large enough size that he needn't worry about losing it.

Except the key ring didn't seem to be on the trusty nail in the wood paneled wall by his bedroom closet door. In fact, the key ring didn't seem to be anywhere. Thor shoveled piles of clothes from one side of the room to the other and back again. He found the copy of Finnegan's Wake he had been trying vainly to read under a pile of newspapers and socks. He went ahead and stuck it back under there.

He went into the kitchen and searched through the cupboard drawers and in the refrigerator (you never know what you'll find in the refrigerator). He searched his modest den-- moving magazines and books and stacks of tin TV dinner trays and empty cans. He even lifted up the bits of lose carpeting. Nothing.

Suddenly his gaze fell upon Tanngrisner who seemed to be looking particularly guilty all of a sudden.

"You ate my keys didn't you my little one." Thor said with gentle exasperation.

Tanngrisner chewed on what was left of one of Thor's boots.

"Ah well, no matter," Thor chuckled softly, "I'll just call my friend the Knight and ask him what is going on." Thor smiled and added, "I suspect I'll get my key for the box eventually, eh?"

Thor moved a cardboard box filled with student's papers that would probably be eaten before he could grade them from on top of his black rotary phone. He reached down to pick up the receiver and quickly realized there was no receiver. Just the phone and a bit of curled black phone cord that went spiraling rapidly into nowhere. Thor glanced at Tanngrisner who looked away indignantly and began chewing on a "Home Sweet Home" wood carving that one of his students had given him.

Thor sighed and looked at Tanngjost who was sheepishly polishing off the Saturday Evening Post.

Thor muttered something under his breath in Olde Norse and threw on his raincoat and pulled on his boots and laced them most of the way up. He poured some feed into the cardboard box in the kitchen for his goats, and headed out the door-- which he didn't lock since he didn't have a key. He headed down the street to the subway. Black Knight lived the closest to him and would be the least fussy about him being in his house. Luckily Zemo lived the farthest away. Zemo made Thor uncomfortable. Zemo's house made Thor ill at ease. Zemo's stuffy servant, Jarvis, made Thor downright apprehensive. Black Knight was unpredictable. He was ill tempered. He was completely insane, but least he didn't seem to have difficulty breathing when Thor wiped his boots on the carpet.

Hopefully, Thor could catch the Black Knight before he left. Hopefully, this wasn't an earth-shattering emergency for which his delay would prove catastrophic.

Thor sat on the speeding subway feeling helpless. It would take ten minutes to get to the Knight's house. Thor wished he still had his Saturday Evening Post.

Herbie's comlink buzzes, making the Super-Ape jerk upward from were his head was resting on a work table. There is a jeweler's magnifying eyepiece over his left eye, and the computer circuit panel impressed on his cheek from sleep dangles a moment before falling off. The guts of some stubborn machine lay strewn about the work table; it proved complicated enough to require an all-nighter, but wasn't complicated enough to stave off exhaustion. Herbie required a few post-awakening moments to shake his head clear of monkey-dreams. He pushes aside the coils of cables and wires that hung like vines around the lab. That comlink is somewhere! Ah, perhaps under the Periscopical Sonic Torpidizer. . .

"Herbie here," he feels almost like he has to salute for some reason, "What has transpired?"

And after gathering a few generic gizmos, widgets, and tools (figuring he may have an opportunity to gather more specific equipment later), Herbie hops on his hover-platform, double-checks the alarm and auto-defenses for the warehouse, and flies off into the night.

Rick Jones' comlink buzzes. As he reaches for it, a green tentacle wraps around his wrist.

"You are not ready yet, Rick. No matter what they might want or need, the risk of bring the Kree Supreme Intelligence back through you isn't worth it " says his mentor, a member of the biomorphic race of aliens known as the Skrulls.

Reluctantly, Rick moves back to the mat and the rack of practice weaponry, wooden replicae of ancient Kree martial art weapons. He wishes for a Fresca.

Thor slowly ascends the subway platform at what he believes is the right stop; of course, he had thought that about the previous four attempts to reach the Black Knight's apartment as well. Somehow, the exit looked different through the daylight, and without a slight alcoholic haze.

Two black-clad uniformed officers of the NYPD Special Unit approached him with conspicuously-open hands.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Thor?" asked the officer, fully expecting an answer such as "No, just chaffed a little bit - but I use baby powder" for such an obvious straight line.

"Sometimes I am, ya..." answered the Thunder God cautiously. "Why? Who vants to know?"

"I'm Officer Busiek of the NYPD." He shows Thor his police ID. "We have been sent to offer you a ride to Zemo House, sir. If it is convenient for you to come with us now? Your friends are already on the way".

"Ok, I will come mit you" confirms Thor, and they get into the oddest police vehicle he'd ever seen; it was more like a limosine than a police car. "And if you are not who you say you are, oh boy will you regret it" he mumbled.

Thor's impression was correct - it was a limosine, loaned to the NYPD by Jarvis to pick up the wandering Thunder God. A stocked limosine. With ale and mead.

By the time Thor is shown into the mansion, Herbie and the Black Knight have already arrived, and are waiting (with various amounts of impatience) in a special reception room stocked with mead, beer (with a supply of straws), Fresca, and ice water. Jarvis announces "Master Thor is the last of them, Master Zemo".

"Very well. Thank you Jarvis, " began Zemo. "Herbie, Black Knight, Thor, please meet Sgt. Watson and Jameson of the NYPD".

"Good morning" began Sgt. Watson with a smile. "Sgt. Jameson and I have been assigned to a new unit formed at One Police Plaza. We've been transfered from Homocide, and head up the Special Powers Operatios Tactical Team (SPOTT), which is supposed to deal with the crimes of a new breed of criminal - the Marvel powered-criminal."

She began pacing back and forth as she spoke "For some reason, New York City seems to be the Mecca for these new weirdos, and also for people like you, who end up trying to stop them." She stopped pacing. "As of this this week, we've been assigned to act as your liaison to the NYPD. "

Her partner, Sgt. Jameson continued "Personally, I think that SPOTT is a waste of time - you aren't law enfrcement agents, and you don't have any official standing. Personally, I think you're all almost as bad as the crooks. But..."

Zemo looks at the other members of the team and thinks to himself, "I couldn't agree more."

"But fortunately, the Powers That Be upstairs take a longer view" interrupted one of two newcomers, who Jarvis had just admitted to the room. "My name is Special Agent Lucas Cage, and this" he said, pointing to the other newcomer, "is..."

"...the Power Princess" finished Herbie, recognizing her from her television appearances. "Aren't you a member of the Squadron Supreme? I love your shows, I'm a big fan!"

"Not anymore, Herbie" asnwered Power Princess. "I've quit the Squadron Supreme show - I don't want to make entertainment shows anymore, I want to make a REAL difference. So, when I head about the new task force the Mayor was setting up, I volunteered to join the New York Police Department"

Zemo rolls his eyes.

"Does the ape get a crush on every woman he meets?" Zemo thinks to himself. "Well, maybe she likes hairy men. If that's the case, Thor and Herbie could come to blows."

"Faaaan-TASTIC to meet you!" exclaims Power Princess, shaking the Black Knight's hand vigorously. ("Armor's kind of plain, won't really photograph well. Needs something more eye-catching if we're going to sell any action figures. I hope that sword fires missiles.")

"And you must be Thor," she says, catching sight of the large Asgardian. She approaches, then stops when the odor hits her. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Power Princess here" informed Sgt. Jameson, managing to keep his sneer to a minimum "has been made a Special Officer, assigned to help the SPOTT taskforce with Public Relations. Agent Cage here, with a public code name of Power Man, represents the Federal agency GUARD."

"With your co-operation, we'd like you to accept both Power Man and Power Princess into your team. In exchange, we will grant you all Special Agent status with the NYPD, making you deputized officers of the law rather than vigilantes operating illegally. In addition, we will provide you with a computer link to our system, allow you access to INTERPOL and police reports, and provide other co-operation as needed."

"In addition" continued Agent Cage, "GUARD is prepared to furnish you with a long-term lease for the old Federal Treasury building down by the Soho district, which can act as a headquarters for you."

"What do you say?"

The Black Knight seems to have been having one of his whispered arguments with himself. Finally he speaks to the others. "I'll go along with what the rest of the group wants, but I do feel that I should make clear that just because you may deputize me does not make me a 'crime-fighting vigilante.' I don't stop muggers or bank-robbers. That's for the street-level Marvels. We handle the big threats, and all the deputizing from the NYPD doesn't make a bloody bit of difference when you're going up against alien invasion forces or ancient gods run amuck.

"Without a certain level of forebearance on the part of NYPD, buddy, you'd be under arrest for state weapons law violations. You think that just anyone can walk around with a huge pig-sticker like that, and have us turn a blind eye?" snarls Jameson. "I'm not like Watson, Cage, and..." he turns his snarl into a sneer "....Power Princess - I think we should wait until we have a hundred different civil and criminal violations and send you to the Monastary with the rest of your type. But the Mayor... " and if anything, the sneer becomes more pronounced "...wants good headlines, not bad ones. So here we are. You want to have the legal status of any other lowlife with a sword or gun, and then use it, I'll be happy to be the first person to run you in."

"Typical American, huh. You probably would have preferred for us to let those Neo-Nazis take over your bleeding country, eh, mate? That probably would have suited you just fine, those Nazzis are always big on law and order. Bloody Yanks, you probably would have been just fine letting Hitler take over all of Europe if it wasn't for the Japs dragging you in by the scruff of your neck! So don't write checks your butt can't cash, Jameson! You think you can take me, go ahead! Loki couldn't take my sword away, what makes you think a tosser like you can? Why don't you just take your ass back to the pawn shop unit and let the real men save the world?"

If the Wonder twins want to join our group, then they're welcome, but they should just be aware that this en't no television programme. Nor is it some kind of special police task force, even if it pleases ye to call it that. We've saved the bloody world three times already without shiny badges or a swank pad. Not that I'm agenst those things, mind you, if the others are in favor, but I think we should be clear on this matter. I assume that one has to save the world at least four times before one is free from the 'help' of the government."

Luke Cage says, "Sweet Christmas! You've got a chip on your shoulder there, son! We're here to HELP you. I don't expect gratitude, but remember we're all on the same side."

"Oh yeah?" yelled Jameson "I'm not the ones who worked with the Nazis in WWII, am I? No, the cops DO rescue the world - one person at a time. Somebody has to protect people from nuts like you, who think they are some sort of elite force. Tell me, you rusty tin can - when was the last time you 'defended the weak, protected the helpless'? Isn't chivalry and courtesy supposed to be the knightly ideal?" He turns his back on the knight. "I guess we should call you the Black Bully instead..."

Power Princess cringes at the reference. We're going to need to make people forget about that whole Nazi business if this team is going to succeed with the public. She makes a mental note... contact image consultants at the first opportunity.

"Thank you, Baron Zemo, Sgt. Watson, Sgt. Jameson. I have every confidence that we shall do our utmost to justify the faith you have placed in us," says Power Princess, gives Sgt. Jameson a wink, "and usher the 'Avengers' into a new era of greatness, not only in this fine city, but across this great nation, and all over the world."

She strikes a dramatic pose.

"Now, Mr. Cage, perhaps you could show us to our new headquarters. LET'S GO, AVENGERS!!!"

Zemo can't help himself. He chuckles at the pose. "Don't hurt yourself before we fight anyone child."

He looks around the room for Hellcat. "I'd like to thank the city for offering us a new base of operations. Jarvis will be most appreciative that he won't have to clean up after the goats or the Black Knight. By the way, where's the frigid bitch?"

"Mr. Vaughn answered her communications device, sir. Apparently she has taken herself off to 'research the connection between norse runes and celtic blood-magic traditions', and is unavailable while abroad" answers Jarvis from the corner.

"Now boys, we're all on the same side. Sgt. Jameson, we will do everything in our power to co-operate with the authorities, and trust that said co-operation will be reciprocated. Let's get to the new headquarters, shall we?"