Shanahan cursed the steps he was on behind his stoic facade. Why did they have to have the staircase circle the outside wall of the tower? It made him think the place wasn't built for humans at all.

He counted them as he walked up to the twentieth floor. He hoped Whitehouse was there. It would be good to work out some of this anger so he didn't go off the rails.

He was surrounded by enemies and he wanted to kill them all. Only finding Wyndham prevented him from going berserk and seeing how many of his foes he could take with him before he went.

Shanahan saw a familiar figure coming down the stairs. He put his hand in his pocket. He pulled out his knife and kept it down by his leg. If the guy recognized him, they were fighting here in the stairwell.

He did a quick count as he advanced toward his main enemy. There were ten mooks coming down toward him. They surrounded the big guy as they descended like little fish around a shark. Two more talked at the next landing above them. A few were heading down out the door at the next landing, while about three more were down at the bottom of the shaft at the main door.

A fight in this stairwell would be a disaster for him. He needed to avoid that as much as possible.

The big guy looked up and focused on the green blur coming up the stairs. He grimaced at the sight.

“You!,” he said. He pointed at Shanahan with anger on his face. “You're dead!”

The mooks scattered out of the way, stopping and reversing to give the big guy room to do what he wanted. Apparently he did a lot of collateral damage when he was operating.

“Wyndham,” demanded Shanahan.

“What did you say?,” said the big guy. He stood just out of his reach above Shanahan. His minions watched things with something like disbelief in their eyes.

“Wyndham,” said Shanahan. “Now.”

“The only thing you're getting is a second death,” said the big guy. “You don't walk into our capitol and demand anything. We take from you.”

He leaped across the remaining space between them, swinging a fist the size of a turkey at his smaller opponent. One hit would reduce this green nuisance into a smear decorating the walls. That would be an objective lesson for anyone else who thought they could just walk in and walk out of the capitol building.

Shanahan dodged left. He had room to move, and felt he was quicker and had more endurance even without the horse blowing smoke from his nose as he stepped out of the way.

The fist swept by in a blast of air. Any hit landing would end the fight for Shanahan. He had to run, and try to change the circumstances before he was pinned down in the stairwell and slaughtered.

Shanahan didn't bother swinging at the big guy. He doubted his own ability would do that much against the slab of muscle he was facing. He ran toward the crowd of mooks above him. Some of them reached for their weapons as he charged up the stairs. He heard the bull bellowing for him to stop.

He didn't know what the guy expected him to do. No one in their right mind would try to stop one of those fists. That would be asking for major damage.

The mooks decided to split apart as he ran at them. They didn't seem to want to hold him in place for their boss. Maybe none of them wanted to be collateral damage.

“Stop him!,” shouted the big guy. “Don't let him out on the floor!”

Some of the mooks tried to close the gap. Shanahan punched with his empty hand at the closest one. The man flew into his comrades and staggered them out of the way. He dodged over their flailing bodies and headed for the landing exit.

“You idiots,” said the chief. “Shut the door on this floor. One of you go up and get the Sword. He'll want to know about this.”

Shanahan punched the next mook that got within range as he ran down the hall. He took the man's swordbelt. He needed reach if he wanted to take on the Hulk. He put his knife away and put the belt on across his torso so the sword hung on his back instead of at his hip. It tapped him as he moved toward the other end of the hall. Closed doors beckoned him, but the enclosed space was a trap.

He could create a temporary bottleneck, but all it would take to ruin things was Whitehouse dropping the big guy in the room with him. Then he would be fighting on two fronts and the second front was stronger and faster than he was.

He needed a way to turn this hall into a death trap so he could duck by the mooks and get back to the stairwell.

Then he could try some kind of ambush, or set some traps, to thin the herd.

The fact that people could be waiting in the rooms for someone to try the doors so they could execute their own ambush was not lost on him.

Shanahan stopped when he reached the end of the hall. He found a narrow window in the wall there. If he wanted to stay ahead of his enemy, he would have to climb out and see where he could go from there.

He wondered if the Hulk was strong enough to knock part of the wall out. Did he want to try the outside wall and hope he wouldn't be knocked off?

Would it be better to face the man and try to kill him with the stolen sword?

He didn't have long before the others got involved and tried to smoke him out.

He looked down the hall. The big guy approached. The fury on his face turned it red. He couldn't stop making fists as he walked.

“I'm going to show Seera the real cost of running away from us,” said the Hulk.

Shanahan didn't say anything. He gauged distances and the speed of movement between him and the bigger man. He pulled his stolen sword and tested the weight. He hoped it was sharp enough to do the job if he had to get in close.

The last thing he wanted to do was get in close. He had no doubt that if he missed a slip, the landing hit would put him down for good.

Wyndham was counting on him to find her and get her away from this snake pit, whether she knew it, or not.

“You should be afraid of me,” said the Hulk. “I'm the Fist. I can destroy anything I hit in one blow.”

Shanahan gave up on the idea of pushing the guy through the window unless he could expand the window until it could take the bigger fighter.

“Most people beg for mercy at this point,” said the Fist. “Why aren't you?”

Shanahan waited. He was trapped. The only way out of the trap was to fight his way through the bigger human obstacle in his way.

The swordsman in red and the third man from the alley in New York popped into existence behind the Fist. The swordsman frowned at the confrontation. The other man looked bewildered.

“Why isn't this man dead?,” asked the balding Door. “Didn't we see him fall out of the gate path?”

“He has Gaunt's horse,” said the swordsman. “I guess we should take him alive so we can get it back.”

“No,” said the Fist. “He's here for Wyndham. He has to die before he can escape.”

“I think Don is right,” said the Door. “This fellow is too dangerous to keep around until we can arrange a switch of powers. It's bad enough that he showed up here to look for Seera. What if he had done a better job of sneaking in? He could have killed us all in our sleep.”

The swordsman nodded. The way the man in green looked at the three of them indicated he was ready to fight them to the death. It might as well be done.

The Sword lifted a red gauntlet. He pointed at Shanahan. A large blade sliced through the air, trying to cut the target in half at the waist. It missed as the green man dodged backwards.

The Fist charged in. The flying sword had thrown his enemy off balance. He swung his fist at the face concealed by a gray beard. One hit always caused one kill.

Shanahan let the fist go by. There was no way he could stop it with his own strength. The knuckles hit the wall next to the window. Lines appeared in the stone. Then the cubes blasted apart under the impact.

Shanahan jumped through the hole, dropping out of sight.

“That didn't go as planned,” said the Door.

“Do you really think so, Arnold?,” asked Morehull. “I think we should go after him, don't you?”

The three of them went to the window. They looked down. He had survived a fall from this height, or higher, when they were flying home. He might have survived falling out the window.

Shanahan stood on a narrow ledge below them. He worked his way counterclockwise around the tower's periphery.

“We're going to have to go after him,” said Morehull.