“Boy, snap that whip at me and I reduce you to jelly where you stand,” Hill told Whiplash calmly, and the arm drawn back to take a swing at him paused in mid-swing. “Smart. Have a seat.”

“Ahg!” the man screamed as he was forced to his knees by the gravity on him suddenly increasing tenfold.

“Stay there and ya won’t get pounded too much,” Hill advised him, looking down the road, where several non-standard vehicles were burning rubber for them less than a block away.

The Constrictor reached the ground, while behind him the dozen guns poured out of the building to back him up, but paused as the Wrecking Crew rumbled up.

The Battlewagon they’d built to house the spirit of the car from the Battleworld looked big and mean, and the rumbling dozer-bikes riding escort didn’t look too friendly, either.

Rosie was up top on the Battlewagon, and a spray of red-hot riveter fire sent the normal gunmen diving for cover. Even the Constrictor had second thoughts about getting in closer.

The side doors opened, and the muscle of the Wrecking Crew boiled out, ready to wreak some havoc. “Orders, Mr. Hill?” Rosie called down urgently.

Fisk lifted an eyebrow, as technically they should have asked him for orders, but said nothing as Hill said, “Clear out the rats, boys. Girls, keep the primary safe. There’s gonna be capes up top in under a minute, I expect. Rosie, tenth floor, there.” She spun her oversized rivet-gun around, spotted the open window, and a stream of burning crimson made sure that sniper was finding other places to be quickly.

The Wrecking Crew surged past Mr. Hill, who just helped the Kingpin into a seat in the Battlewagon.

The fighting there was a short-sided beatdown, the gunmen and Constrictor no match for the fists and tools of the Wrecking Crew, and Whiplash was cold cocked and put down for the count in passing.

“I see the Torch on the way. Everyone aboard!” Hill’s voice brooked no arguments, and the Crew dropped what they were doing to pour back into the oversized battle-van quickly, Hill swinging up top with frankly startling agility for his size. “Back to the Jensen site! Rosie, get on the phone for Mr. Fisk and find out where he wants to be taken in a more discreet fashion.”

“You got it, Mr. Hill!”

The holographic field over the battlewagon settled into a rumbling cement truck as it motored away from the building, and the dozer-bikes became normal motorcycles. Smoke was billowing out from above, and a man made of fire was just starting to circle the building above to inspect the damage before taking action.

A more interesting day in the life of Wilson Fisk than normal, but it was fairly obvious to see whose plans had been inadvertently foiled by the actions of capes putting him in his place. The fact he probably owed his life to the capes was not lost on him... and, he was sure, was not lost on them, either.

What he would do in the face of this sudden setback to his business and finances was his own problem. He had plenty of reserves, however, and even losing the investment in his Tower would not harm him for too long. Soon, it would be business as usual... after disposing of some flies. Not having the Hand looking over his shoulder was also going to be rather liberating...

---------

The air ripped open and Dealer floated inside, letting the gash in space seal up petulantly behind her as it did so.

She wasn’t the first one here. She wasn’t even the two dozenth.

Some of the best chi-wielders in the world had come in to take this fight against the Hand. Ninja suits burning unwhite dotted the area, those Death Warriors never going to come back again after this death.

Master Logan was actually leading the fight, dancing on the edge of berserker fury as burning golden claws tore through the assassins trying to stop him. Contrary to expectations, he was dodging as much as tanking, although he still wasn’t wearing any armor, and was proving elusive and deadly as he ripped through them.

Ho, Iron Fist, and Luke Cage were down there. Thunderbird was helping out, too, and several dozen Tribal Braves and some local Japanese talents, too. Dealer also saw Yukio flitting about, sending her poisoned knives here and there while laughing.

This secret space that held the ancestral home of the Mikaboshi Hand Clan was going to come to an end today. The minions were dying left and right, the elders were running into senior Braves who were damn good at their styles, and naturally no one was pulling punches. This went far beyond Murim rivalry of schools at this point, and the Hand had never been about fighting. They were assassins!

-There’s something going on down below, girl,- Master Logan /said, sweeping his claws through three men and their swords at the same time, not stopping his advance. Swords, spears, glaives, and fists clashed behind him as his students followed him.

-Yep, there’s a Summoning Ceremony going on below. They are trying to use the souls of the dying to power the sacrifice, but that’s not working. Thirty seconds, and the living are going to be dropping like flies. When that happens, you book.-

-Huh. Fine.- His Rage swam all around his /words, but he maintained his control, even as he was terrifying the shit out of the Hand returnees coming to face a mystical beast gone crazywild.

She was weaving her own spell above and around what was going on, having to add on a lot of layers as she descended to the ground for that nice little touch of earthpower that would Raise a IX to X... and thus pass the mortal limit and be able to affect a god.

-Here it comes! Turn and run!-

Black tentacular wisps rose out of the ground, spearing through the living members of the Hand. They shrieked and screamed as they jerked in place, and were instantly reduced to dust, even faster than vivus could take them.

“LEAVE NOW!” Master Logan suited deeds to words, spinning around, grabbing two of the startled men behind him, and dragging them after him. “RUN NOW! NO QUESTIONS! RUN!” he repeated, and abruptly every martial artist there turned around and booked for the edges of the forest that ringed this ninja temple at top speed, rather easily as all the Hand were abruptly dead around them.

“LEAVE? LEAVE NOW, WHEN IT IS TIME FOR ME TO PLAY WITH YOU?” a sibilant, otherworldly voice that came from nowhere spoke, while distant screams below fell silent, and any hint of life other than the fleeing attackers vanished from my senses. Dark wisps, now thick and oily, speared up from the ground, and gathered together into an inhuman form of darker-than-darkness.

Long ago in a distant land, I, Aku, the shape shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil!, Dealer thought to herself, and was gravely disappointed when a fiery-browed mask of a face didn’t rise from the oily mass.

Tentacles and spear-limbs of solid darkness lashed out, and post-Ten Dragon Warriors evaded desperately as they chewed through the ancient temple in an orgy of destruction. Their Weapons were all Enchanted, of course, but remarkably few had put Bane of Legends on their Weapons, allowing them to be able to seriously wound immortals.

Master Logan and Thunderbird were naturally exceptions to that. Golden wrist-razors and a sweeping feather-trailing Spear sliced across the razored tentacle-limbs, severing them with skill and power as they guarded the retreat of the others. Dealer saw Danny Rand spend an Iron Fist blast to knock one tentacle away from grabbing Luke Cage, who swore and counter-shoved a column another seeking appendage was about to smash through, diverting it from a Fan-wielding kicker and allowing her to slip through a net of tentacles trying to entrap her.

The Demon of the Morning Star, Mikaboshi, shapeshifting master of darkness (ahem!) boiled down the flights of the temple after the fleeing fighters, enraged by their speed and the abrupt loss of basically all his devout mortal followers. He probably didn’t value them much individually at all, but their Faith would have given him strength, however much he denied it, and losing it all was like the power going out because rats had gnawed on the lines.

He was pissed, and destroying everything around him as he power-morphed and went after them...

Dealer stepped around the last/first row of columns there as Master Logan leapt past, shearing flaming claws through two sets of living spears-tendrils lunging for him, and she put her foot down.

The Sun came up in this hidden space, and Mikaboshi screamed in alarm. He instantly stopped and tried to retreat, but he had raced right into the Binding Circle of his own free will, and there was nothing for him. His longest tentacles were instantly chopped off by the Light and devoured by Holy Light down to the ends, no remnants left behind for him to break the Binding with.

He went wild, and a hundred limbs, sharpened to metallic bone, slashed, thrust, and hammered against the Binding Circle, shaking the whole pocket dimension with the force of their attacks. All it did was set parts of his body aflame as magic danced in countless Seals and Glyphs, Suits Tarot and Common, Binding him and locking him down with energies both Elemental and Transcendent.

All those extruded limbs suddenly ran back, and the darkness shrank down into a humanoid form, a foot taller than a normal person, pale and saturnine of mien, looking down at Dealer through lidless black eyes as he glided up on her.

“Who are you, and what business do you have with me?” the demon god demanded, staring at her from the other side of the Binding.

“I am a chef preparing a meal,” she replied candidly, looking right back at him as her fingers opened, twitching and pulling at the Underweb. The demon blinked and retreated a step as it felt the shift. “Can you guess who the main course is today?”

“You cannot do this! My fellow gods will avenge me!” the demon sneered, but there was no force to it.

“They aren’t your fellow gods, as you aren’t a god at all. You’re just a demon playing at one, a Void-born curse upon Reality that needs to be taken care of a bit earlier than you thought would happen.” Dealer didn’t take her eyes off of the demon as power began to build around her, and the pocket dimension cracked under the assault of more Reality than it could fend off.

“May the Eternal Flames of the Faltine

Empower Raggador’s Rings.

Weave their Light from Cyttorak’s Might,

And Clea’s Wrath burn all Dark Things!”

Vishanti magic is so damn easy, Dealer mused. Get their attention with Voice and power and a Caster Level to the moon, leverage your own power to allow more of theirs through, and then CONCENTRATE.

The Rings that materialized around Mikaboshi were blazing as hot as a star, and Mikaboshi screamed as the Flames of the Faltine, a power that had burned wild at the start of Creation and freed energy from the darkness of matter and entropy, collapsed down upon it. Crimson Strands wove an impenetrable net about the demon as Dealer’s whole Binding spell collapsed in and about it. Pentacles and Cups, Hearts and Diamonds, Swords and Wands, Clubs and Spades collapsed in an octohedron, the borders burning with Vishanti magic as the area about the faces spun with classic polygrams and Rune Seals.

Space fractured, and didn’t settle down as I stepped out of a planar break and faced down the demon caught up in his little burning ball of Void-eating agony.