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The Defenders stopped in their tracks and Dr. Strange and the Silver Surfer stared at the glowing creature before them. It was six times as tall as the other Wendigo and twice as broad. Green fur floated down it’s back and across its limbs, as the iridescent white glow faded from the form.

Namor pulled himself out of the rubble, pushing a support beam and most of the second floor off of his back with a roll of his shoulders; he snorted with irritation and stood to his full height. The creature towered over the other white beasts as they congregated around it, their voices quiet whines.

“What’s happening?” a groggy Nighthawk asked as he pulled himself to a stand next to Surfer, his costume torn to pieces and his jet pack shooting sparks behind him.

“Well, I’ll summarise it for you, Kyle,” Strange said, turning to the man’s bruised face. “You led a possibly insane scientist here, who used her immense power from an alternate world to split the Hulk up into spectral fragments and a Wendigo (where they have appeared from, I have no idea) just tore Banner’s head off,” he said, dead-panning the entirely absurd situation.

“It’s your fault, Richmond,” Namor said curtly, stomping towards the others while rubbing rubble out of his cuts and from his ears.

“Stuff it, Pixie,” Nighthawk shot back. “I just wanted to know the situation to see if I can help you guys.”

“Unless you’re able to control and or nullify large monsters, Nighthawk, I would suggest you take a minor role in the event to come,” the Surfer added. Kyle puffed out his chest and stood next to the other Defenders, who all stood shoulder to shoulder looking up at the beast.

“I can stand with the best of you. You might all be high and mighty but...” Kyle’s words were cut away by the ear splitting scream of the beast before them.

Kyle raised his hand and took a few steps backwards. “Can I go wait in the house, please?”

“Well then, I’d suggest we...” Strange was cut off as Namor shot forwards, leaving two tiny impact fractures in the pavement from where the balls of his feet had cut in.

“IMPERIOUS REX!” he screamed

The sonic boom from his fist colliding with the Bandigo’s face was immense, knocking Strange off his feet and even giving the Silver Surfer an earache.

Strange shook his head and wiped the blood from his ears and nose. “I suppose we should clean up after him, shouldn’t we?”

“Well, it would be nice. Shall I fetch Wong or are you feeling up to some menial work?” the Surfer asked, his board sliding underneath his feet with no effort from his features at all.

Strange snorted and got to his feet, the front door of his house opening and several items flying through the air towards him, granting him a halo of magical power. “While running off to call someone else was always a strong point, I’d prefer it if you stayed here, Norrin,” Strange smirked as the Wings of Needless Sorrow and the Star of Caspian floated either side of his head. The eye of Agamotto lifted from his chest and formed a trinity above his head. “I need some time to work a spell, Norrin,” Strange asked of his comrade, who had already lifted himself off the ground.

Behind them the roar of a jet engine pierced the silence as Nighthawk, holding a Sword he’d swiped from Strange’s house as well as an apparent change of costume, landed next to the others. “We all stand together, right? That’s what old John Lennon sung wasn’t it? With the Frogs? Defenders one and all?” He leaned forwards, letting his wings splay out behind him and nodding to Norrin, who simply rolled his eyes and turned away from Kyle.

“It was Paul McCartney,” Strange said absent-mindedly before adding, “I know you are trying, Kyle, but please try not to talk directly at me when I am concentrating.”

“All right, Sorry Doc, just...doesn’t this remind you of the good old days? Fighting monsters, when it was just us against the world.”

“Kyle…”

“Sorry, Doc…Go!” Kyle yelled, knocking Strange out of his spell again, who frowned and secretly wished to curse Kyle but, then, being the way he was really was all the curse one man could handle. He’d been dealt a tough hand, really. Estranged from his reality and forced to rebuild his life here, despite the fact that the majority of his teammates found him intensely annoying, even though he tried hard and he kept it light. Mephisto had taken his eyes and given him prophetic sight, an ability that appeared to have left him in recent months, though for no real logical reason.

Strange moved his hands through the air, calling the Winds of Watoomb to his aid. The skies grew dark and rain began to drop from the sky, much to the audible sigh of relief from Namor. “About time, Sorcerer!” he shouted, his hay-maker hitting the Bandigo through the building nearest them, allowing Namor to shoot through the hole he’d just made.

Nighthawk leapt forward, his sword slicing downwards with more than mortal strength. Norrin arched an eyebrow at his abilities as he relieved a white beast of its arm. “You were not this strong when last we met, Kyle.”

“I know, Surfer. I got some powers since you last saw me! I’m stronger in the darkest hours...” His fist collided with a Wendigo’s face, knocking large teeth from their moorings and drawing a crimson splash from the impact.

“Like a hawk of the night, I pull the cowardice and fear from the superstitions of humanity. I am the fear that crawls up inside. I am the little terror that lurks in the darkness...”

“Clearly.” The Surfer stood aboard his metallic podium, dealing bursts of cosmic energy onto any unsuspecting creature below. The Wendigo virus would not be allowed to spread. Norrin leaned over his shoulder to look at Strange, as Namor’s pale body hurtled through the air before him, bouncing off the ground and smashing through the first wall of a nearby house. The Prince of Atlantis lay in the wreckage of the house, blood tricking from his broken nose and cut forehead.

The creature pulled itself from the building, ambling towards the other Defenders. Nighthawk twisted his wrist, throwing the sword as though it were a projectile boomerang with a blade on it. It cut through the air and removed the Bandigo’s ear at the lobe.

The monster paused for a moment and Kyle pulled his fist back in a gesture of victory.

The creature reached up in pain as Kyle looked pleadingly with the Surfer. “Probably should have thought that through a bit more, huh?” he asked.

As the enormous creature rushed forward, the Surfer simply plucked Kyle from his position and carried him aloft, out of the reach of the beast.

“There!”

As the mystic talisman trinity began to glow above Strange’s head, he thrust his fingers forwards and cracked his shaking muscles. “I may be the Sorcerer Supreme now, but I was a pretty good surgeon during my heyday. The best way to cure a virus is to immunize it and, while Immunology wasn’t my strong area, I certainly had enough women in my bed to learn a thing or two about it.”

The energy shot from the three separate items into a single conjoined beam, hitting the Bandigo in the center of it’s chest, knocking the creature onto it’s knees.

“You give the organism an inoculation, something that is a weaker version of the virus, be it a half dead version of the virus or not. The body, then seeing this virus, builds up an immunity to it before it becomes a threat to survival. Or so that’s what I was told; of course, it could have all been an elaborate version of foreplay,” Strange explained.

“Talks a lot still, then?” Kyle asked the Surfer, who said nothing as he watched Strange’s actions. “Yeah…good talk.”

“Your body, or rather the Astral form you’ve entrapped within your mystical form, will now begin to reject you. You will no longer have any hold on this realm, creature, and the organism’s you’ve infected here will be cured of your curse.”

Strange waited as the Bandigo’s form slowly shrank, leaving a glowing Banner dropping from the creature’s body and onto the floor, panting and vomiting light into the street. The Wendigo stood there for a moment, half expecting itself to dissipate. It didn’t.

“And now creature, your time is done. You will be expunged from your host bodies.” Strange waited for a few moments longer, but nothing happened still.

“Maybe you should update your vocabulary, Doc. Apparently even these ancient beasts don’t understand you,” Banner spat sarcastically in between retches.

“This isn’t going quite to plan...” Strange said as he lurched forward again, the Wendigo gathering together and sniffing the air. Kyle dropped from the Surfer’s board and landed next to Strange.

“They’re not going away, Doc,” Kyle said, pulling his mask off and staring at the magician.

“I’ve noticed that, Kyle.”

“So...what do we do now?”

“Well, we can’t exactly leave a herd of animals…or rather, spirits of Cannibalism…living in New York, can we?” Strange tutted, rolling his eyes at Kyle.

“Well, I dunno, why you’re asking me? I’m not exactly Ka-Zar.”

“If you have nothing to add to this conversation, Kyle, I’d suggest you be silent.” Strange’s talismans floated down into his hands as the creatures coughed into the air and gazed around, collecting their dead.

“Round them up, Surfer. I’ll have to keep them in my back-yard,” Strange said, with more than a hint of frustration in his voice. Since the Bandigo’s death, or at least transformation back to Wendigo and Banner, the white beasts had been fairly docile.

“I really don’t understand what’s happened here. They came here all angry and now they’re not? What’s going on?” Kyle asked, looking from Defender to Defender.

“...and get me something to settle my stomach, Kyle. It’d be about the most useful thing you’ve done today,” Banner spat, trying to get to his feet. He was met with a look of not only disdain but anger from Kyle Richmond.

“Yes, because it really is that simple,” Kyle said, staring as the Surfer shot bursts of energy to try and coral the Wendigo towards Strange’s house.

---

“We don’t have time for this!” The Surfer, ordinarily quite stoic, reeled forward and slammed both of his fists through the table in the corner of Strange’s house before dropping to his knees.

“Oh, for Goodness...” Banner rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “It’s always some sort of drama with you lot, isn’t it? What’s the matter now?” Banner asked, slumped in one of Strange’s high backed chairs.

“The Power Cosmic...there is something...” Energy poured from his eyes and the Surfer’s head hit the ground. His board quivered, scooping him up and lifting him into the air as the side of Strange’s house was ripped open by a Gravity Well.

“STRANGE!” Namor yelled as he gripped the doorframe. Stephen hit the ground, rolling towards the portal before them, throwing his hands up to cast a barrier spell over the opening in his wall. It didn’t stop the forces of the portal but it did stop him falling into it.

“Surfer! What is the meaning of this?” he shouted above the din of the portal. Namor held the bridge of his nose, as he witnessed the interesting occurrence of blood dropping from his nose and flying horizontally toward the portal.

“This is…interesting,” Banner sarcastically said, gripping the edge of the large chair before him.

The portal dilated, pushing something through. A woman made of stars... Her black body was populated with the twinkling of the night sky as she somehow managed to penetrate Strange’s barrier and fall onto the floor of the Mansion. She convulsed a few times before looking up at the Defenders gathered around her.

“Do not fear...I come with a message from Galactus...” she offered weakly, before Namor pulled his fist back and punched her so hard her head crashed through the floorboards.

The other Defenders looked at Namor, who crossed his arms and looked with defiance to them. “I have been punched through buildings enough today. I do not wish to be laser beamed. It is not becoming of a Monarch.”

The Surfer, still recovering from his seizure with his eyes tightly closed, knelt down at the side of the woman and pulled her head into his lap. She coughs a few times but her eyes remain closed. Electricity crackled from his metallic fingertips into the back of her cosmic-mapped head. The core Defenders tightly looped the pair on the floor, with Kyle vying for a look in the background.

The Surfer’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at the other Defenders. “Her name is Lightstar and she is a Herald of Galactus; one of the Dimensioneers I see. I...we must got into space to help her Faction,” he said quickly, getting to his feet with Lightstar in his arms.

“Whoa, whoa…space? Really? I’m not sure I want to make that commitment to you guys…” Banner continued.

“I’ll do it!” Kyle shouted, trying to push into the grouping.

After a few moments of silence, both Strange and Namor stepped forward. “We said we would and could help each other, Surfer. We’ll help you with this and you’ll help us find our loved ones,” Namor said with a hint of comfort to his voice. Though he balled his fists and stared down his nose at Kyle when he tried to get closer.

The Surfer nodded and pointed to Banner.

“We cannot leave him here, alone. He is a liability.”

“Me? Oh, give it a fucking rest, Surfer! I’ve managed to live this long on my own; I don’t need you baby sitting me.”

“On the contrary, Banner. I think it’s best if you accompany us until we fully understand what you are...and where your powers now stand,” Strange added, the Surfer nodding in the background.

“I don’t believe this…” Banner started before the Surfer raised his hand.

“I will explain all on our flight to the Devourer, but we must leave now.” A portal opened before the grouping, sucking the debris from the first through it’s gaping energy maw. The Surfer lifted himself off the ground, shooting through the center of the construct, holding the unconscious woman in his arms.

Namor shot in next, followed by Strange ushering a reluctant Banner.

As Kyle leapt forward, he found the portal had already closed and he was sent hurtling through the gap into the world beyond. Falling a story, he landed in the remaining rubble, ripping up his spare costume. He lay on his back staring at where the portal once existed, a tear pulling itself to the corner of his eye.

Why did they always ignore him? Leave him behind? Why couldn’t he be a full-fledged, proper Defender? Why was he always the comic relief and peripheral member?

He snorted and lay there for a few more minutes before shaking his head and sitting up, pressing the side of his mask to his ear. He waited a few seconds before speaking. “Hello, Patsey? It’s Kyle. Yeah, I think it’s happened. Come over.”

If the big four were gone, Kyle was going to sort their stuff out while they were gone. He would make them want him to be a full-fledged Defender.

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To Be Continued...

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