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rat’s whisker what you do with these clowns.” He gestured up at Falcon and Ms. Marvel, hovering just above. “But I got a message from the X-Men: We’re neutral. The mutant community’s stayin’ out of this scrap.”
    “You’re also an Avenger, Logan.” Tony stepped toward Wolverine, repulsors glowing.
    Immediately, the mutant fell backward into a defensive crouch. Unbreakable claws burst forth from his hands, stopping half an inch from Iron Man’s chestplate.
    Behind Tony, the other Avengers had gathered: Goliath, Cage, Hawkeye. Tigra crouched low, growling softly.
    Captain America stood off in the distance, over by the ambulance. He looked down at a stretcher, shook his head at the body.
    Tony rose up a few inches off the ground, right at the lip of the crater, and stared down at Wolverine like a god. When he spoke again, his voice was a metallic hiss. “Maybe you should take a leave from the Avengers.”
    Wolverine turned and strode away. “Way ahead of you. Boss .”
    “Watch your step, Logan.”
    The mutant turned, snarled. “You think about comin’ after me, Tone, you better watch more than your step.”
    Then he took off like a wild animal, loping away at incredible speed.
    The Avengers seemed to all exhale at once. They looked around awkwardly, watching as the last of the rescue vehicles rumbled away.
    “Tony,” Spider-Man said. “What are you gonna say to the committee?”
    Tony Stark made no reply. He just stood, staring out over the crater, as the black-gray mist slowly faded to reveal a low, setting sun.
    Spider-Man stood with him, with his new teammates. He was an Avenger now; this was supposed to be his new beginning. But for nine hundred residents of Stamford, Connecticut…
    “…it’s the end,” he whispered.
    Tony turned sharply toward him. For a moment, Spider-Man had the crazy idea that Tony was about to snap at him. But the armored Avenger just looked upward, activated his boot jets, and flashed silently up into the blood-red sky.

FROM outside, the Blazer Club didn’t look like much. Just a greasy glass double-door, its small velvet rope projecting out onto the sidewalk. Old-style movie marquee with plastic letters spelling out TONIGHT: ACTS OF VENGE NCE.
    The bouncer looked Sue Richards up and down, from her flat shoes to her old jeans to her bob haircut. His eyes were hidden behind thick shades, but his mouth betrayed a slight smirk. He didn’t even bother to shake his head.
    Sue grimaced and stepped back into the crowd. It was an unusually showy group for New York. A clutch of Wall Street execs, laughing loud and showing off big rings. Two tourist girls, impossibly skinny and bejeweled, trying hard to look cool. Smallish, muscular black man with a girl on each arm and a hot pizza slice hanging from his hand. A seven-foot-tall Amazon woman in revealing white dress, cleavage threatening to spill out onto the streets of Manhattan.
    Inside and out, Blazer was a bit more L.A. than most New York clubs. Maybe that was why Johnny Storm, Sue’s brother, liked it so much.
    A muscle-shirted Latino man with a goatee shoved past Sue, towing a small Asian woman in his wake. The bouncer moved the rope aside, let them in.
    Sue clenched her fists. She’d been hunting for Johnny all afternoon, and these were the only civilian clothes she’d had stored in the plane. If she didn’t look fabulous enough for the Blazer Club, that was their problem.
    She closed her eyes, concentrated, and vanished from sight.
    Susan Richards, the Invisible Woman, strode back up to the doorway and stepped easily around the rope. As she passed the bouncer, she willed her force field to expand slightly, shoving him up against a suburban-trash nerd who was trying to talk his way in. The bouncer turned, puzzled, but saw nothing.
    That was petty, Sue thought. But she smiled.
    Blazer’s main hall was enormous, at least half the size of a football field. Low lighting, forty-foot walls rising up to a vaulted ceiling.