Love Guides The Wandering Star--Part Five: By Holly_Gonzalez

She detached from Nicholas Lott and returned to the certainty of Inge-Margritte Helmrich. Links between the four previous trials clarified in her memory, each a piece of herself and of the others she'd become. She remembered Fray's words and focused them into a sequence as the Psychometer resonated above her. Psi-space flowed about her like a shimmering cocoon. The faint scent of smoke and spiced cologne wafted to her nose. A dark gateway spun before her eyes, the connected symbols aswirl in gossamer threads around it.

Flames to cleanse, to purify. I carry them even now.

When the judges spoke, she imagined the psi-force intensifying around them.

The female judge folded her arms. "A destructive element surfaces again. The Fraulein's inner nature is vain and fractured. And still no trace of American enthusiasm. I--"

The judges let out startled cries when the panel desk sparked and smoked before them.

Margritte gasped and focused her mind. The psi-portal expanded, and power from the multiverse flooded through it, bending to her will. I can use this force, she realized with a grin.

The stage crew rushed out with extinguishers and smothered the fire.

"What's the meaning of this?" one of the judges bellowed. "Has the Psychometer malfunctioned?"

The Professor shot Margritte a sidelong glance. "It must have been some faulty wiring. Let's cut to a small break."

While the crew fixed the supposed electrical mishap, the Professor hovered near Margritte. He whispered, "Don't do that again. Control yourself, or I'll set the Psychometer to fry the last of your insolence."

Margritte uttered a small laugh and answered in her native language, lowering her voice. "Subdue me? Never. I see through you, German deceiver. And I suspect you love the Fuehrer enough to bring this mind-melting machine into his enemies' midst. Confess."

The Professor's lips twitched into a slow smirk. He muttered in flawless German, "If you survive the final trial unscathed, I'll decide the truth." He turned his back and ignored her glare.

The judges resumed their places and called for the last trial.

I'll show them all. This time I'll drag the evidence through the portal with me.

"Your final episode is the trial of retribution," the Professor said. "We will at last find out who--or what--you consider an enemy. Your true opposition."

The Psychometer resumed. A new universe, a new vessel to inhabit. Elements from every trial she'd undertaken thus far poured in. Too much at once. She tossed and tried to shout, but her voice became a static pulse. A bright field of light surrounded her. Convulsions tore through her, her body alight, rings of force gliding around the Psychometer and shooting toward her in spidery bolts. Her flesh blinked in and out, her skeleton visible through the brilliant shock waves. She disappeared from her own universe in a blinding flash.

When her senses returned, she was immersed in psi-space once again. She stood on a darkened city street. Overhead, auroras undulated in vast rivers of color. Structures rose out of the night.--towering monoliths, proud and immovable. Skyscrapers. They shouted and summoned her to fight. Her awareness splintered into many facets, each embodied in a tall pillar, their heads in the sky, booted feet planted firm in battle stance. The buildings laughed, wept...were they really alive?

Explosions thundered over the ground. Raid sirens howled. Shouts of terror mingled with war cries. She recognized the skyline of New York City, one of her favorite getaways when she'd been famous. The beautiful city was under attack. She surrendered to the tug of psi-force one last time.

***

Blades Of Mannahatta

By LadyAmanita

Dec 7, 1941, A Date Which Would Live In Infamy, or so said Franklin D. Roosevelt in the wake of Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor. Prior to this event, the United States had taken an isolationist stance in the escalating war. However, this surprise attack silenced those isolationist voices forever, and the US military soon found itself with no shortage of volunteers. It wasn't just humans who answered the call to arms, Another race of beings had only recently revealed their existence-- the manifested souls of some of humanity's greatest creations. Skyscrapers, great bridges, even large ships now shared the planet with their human builders. And in the wake of Pearl Harbor, these great beings wanted nothing more than to protect their cities.

***

January 15, 1942
Army Building, 39 Whitehall Street:
Armed Forces Recruiter Robert Gale couldn't believe his eyes. Not only were he and his staff deluged with young human men eager to enlist, but now he had something else entirely to contend with, which promised to make his day much more complicated. Stooping to pass through the front door and shaking snow off their outer robes as they entered, two dozen Skyscraper-Incarnates massed in the lobby, males and females alike.

Shouldering his way through the crowd of hopeful human recruits, Gale made his way over to the group. Looking up, he studied the Incarnates' towering physiques, their strange manner of dress, and their determined faces, trying not to show his unease at their presence, His mind scrambled to find the right words for such an unusual situation.

Before Gale could address them, one of the Incarnates-- a handsome youth with broad shoulders and a short Art Deco crown-- caught his eye and spoke.

"Sir, we're here to enlist. We believe the attack on Pearl Harbor won't be the last on our soil, and we'd like nothing more than to do our part to prevent any future...atrocities. Given our race's abilities, we believe we have much to offer, if you'll accept us."
As the Skyscraper spoke, the other Incarnates formed up into three neat rows, shortest in front, tallest in back. As soon as their spokesman finished his introduction, they all bowed in unison, bending slightly at the waist, holding their right fists over their hearts in a gesture of respect.
After a moment's pause, Gale broke the silence.
"I...I appreciate your enthusiasm, ladies and gentleman, but given the...unique nature of this situation, I must speak to my CO. We've never had recruits of your kind before, this is..interesting!"
"With all due respect," one skyscraper from the group answered. "We don't want to be interesting. We want to serve, and we want to be good!"

***
April, 1942

The decision required a considerable amount of debate, reaching the highest levels of the US Armed Forces, but finally it was decided that the Incarnates, be they Skyscraper, Bridge, or Ship, were eligible to enlist alongside their human counterparts. However, their recruitment differed from that of humans in one major factor-- the inclusion of women. The Skyscraper-Incarnates who had shown up at the Army Building in Lower Manhattan had been quite insistent on that front, stating that unlike humans, Incarnate women were every bit as strong and tough as their menfolk. Their culture was one of gender equality. The women believed it was their duty to defend the homeland as much as the men's. Another factor in the women's favor was the fact that the U.S Navy had unexpectedly ended up with several female ship Incarnates in its fleet, and they had quickly developed a reputation for courage and discipline every bit the equal of the human sailors they served with.

***
Drill Instructor Fred O'Mally looked at the new recruits who had been delivered to his Long Island training camp. There was the usual assortment of young men, whose kind he was used to training, whipping them into shape to become passable soldiers. But on this day, something new confronted him. Looming over even the tallest of the human recruits, it looked as if the Manhattan skyline had recreated itself in miniature. The list of names he'd been given looked like a veritable "who's who" of New York real estate-- Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, New Yorker Hotel, Waldorf-Astoria, San Remo, El Dorado, and so on.
Even the shortest of these "Skyscraper-Incarnates" was over seven feet tall. A few were pushing nine, not counting their spires. Since uniforms couldn't be found for such massive creatures in time, the Incarnates had created their own-- knee-length wraparound black robes held in place with wide leather belts, along with metal-shod leather boots and heavy pants. This ensemble caused quite a stir. The day had barely started, and the human recruits were already complaining.

"How come we have to wear uniforms and they don't?"

"What are they doing here?"

"You let women in?"

"I'm not training with those...things!"

"You let them wear those dresses!?"

O'Mally was getting fed up. He'd heard racist complaints before-- recruits complaining about serving alongside Blacks, Jews, Asians, and now these Skyscrapers. He hadn't indulged them before, and he wasn't about to start now. After all, how was a platoon of soldiers expected to fight the enemy if they fought amongst themselves? Open bigotry was bad for order and discipline. These men would have to learn to trust their fellow soldiers, no matter their differences.

***

May 27, 1945

Somewhere in the Atlantic:

Siegfried Hans, formerly a captain in Hitler's SS, stood on the bridge of U-1975, deep in thought.

A couple of weeks prior, Germany had surrendered, marking the end of war in Europe. He'd seen the proud city of Berlin bombed into dust and ashes, with mostly women, children, and old men to defend it. This was not the glorious future, the thousand year Reich he and his men had hoped for. This was not the triumph of the Master Race that his beloved Fuehrer had promised. No, this was utter humiliation at the hands of the mongrel races and nations he despised.

Reports said Adolf Hitler had committed suicide, shooting himself in his own bunker. Hans refused to believe it. More likely, it had been murder at the hands of those Allied dogs. Though the war was lost, there was still one chance to fulfill Hitler's dream of "stuffing the mouth of Arrogance", by striking directly at the heart of Allied power-- New York City. Hans wanted to see the citizens of New York suffer as the people of Berlin had. He wanted to witness their humiliation.

Thanks to the efforts of Hitler's finest minds, Hans had the means. The Nazis had thrown their energies into many exotic weapons projects. Some were dismal failures. Others, such as U-1975 and its cargo, had borne fruit. The U-boat had been enlarged and modified to hold a new invention-- a massive walking weapons platform. It could move over obstacles that might confound a tank and was configured with a variety of weapons systems, perfect for surprise attacks on coastal cities.

Hans knew where the real power of New York City lay and decided to aim his new weapon there, to do as much damage as possible before the locals could scramble an effective defense. He would take aim at the true source of the city's power-- the financial district in Lower Manhattan, where the headquarters of many banks and the famous New York Stock Exchange were located. Crippling the city's economic heart would be far more devastating than taking out a single postcard landmark. And then there was the matter of those degenerate creatures-- the Skyscraper-Incarnates the city relied on as defenders. The same foul creatures which had foiled other Nazi insurgent plots on American soil, according to intelligence reports. The attempted bombings at Grand Central Terminal had been a particularly bloody blow to insurgent efforts. The operatives had meant to hinder the war effort by crippling rail traffic, damaging the tracks at Grand Central, and more importantly, taking out the station's hidden power plant, hidden deep underground in a room known only as M42. Instead of glorious success, their mission had ended in bloody failure with several operatives killed and others taken into custody.

Lower Manhattan was thick with skyscrapers. A direct assault on the financial district would leave the Incarnates broken and bleeding along with the humans, suitable payment for their meddling.

***

July 3, 1945

Battery Park, Lower Manhattan

At first, the patrols keeping watch on the waterfront noticed nothing unusual. The weather was muggy and still, the air hazy. Private Larry Weinstein surveyed the harbor through his binoculars. Then, something grabbed his attention-- a definite disturbance in the water. It started out small, barely noticeable, but quickly expanded. The water became more and more agitated, until the top of a black conning tower broke the surface. As it rose, the swastika painted on its side appeared.

"Holy shit!" Weinstein muttered as he fumbled for his radio, an Ecrivain's Special falling from his mouth. He shouted, "We have a U-boat sighting right off of Battery Park! Send everybody down here. Send everything we've got!"

Just offshore, two cargo bay doors on top of the U-boat's hull burst open with a pneumatic hiss and a cascade of water. Moments later, a huge machine rose into view, resembling a tank on folded-up legs. Those legs extended as the metal monstrosity sprung off its platform. It took a few running steps before leaping off the U-Boat altogether, covering the short distance to land, much to the horrified amazement of Private Weinstein and the civilians nearby.

"Everybody clear out!" Weinstein shouted, trying to direct them northward, away from the giant machine striding toward them.

***

Up in the cab of the Berzerker, the pilot, Heinrich Kraus, paid the fleeing civilians little heed. They'd become collateral damage soon enough. Beyond the low rise buildings, he saw the spires of the financial district's towers. He drove his machine forward and directed the gunner's attention to one skyscraper in particular.

At Kraus' signal, the left missile launcher came to life. Seconds later, a fiery streak burned home towards 40 Wall Street, blasting a chunk out of a corner above the 50th floor. It wasn't the perfect center shot he'd hoped for. Something had caused the missile to veer slightly off course. No matter, a second hit would finish it. The gunner lined up the next shot, being a little more attentive this time.

***

High above the streets of lower Manhattan, Bankers Trust Company Building was perched on one of his own terraces, keeping watch on the harbor below. He sensed the disturbance down at Battery Park even before the radio on his belt announced it. Moments later, a fiery streak headed right for his neighbor, 40 Wall Street. He tried one quick bit of telekinesis, a desperate attempt to push the projectile off course, but he was only partially successful. He winced as the projectile struck a corner.

***

Meanwhile. 40 Wall Street and American International Building raced toward the incursion at Battery Park, shooing away pedestrians as they went.

"Get out of here. Get as far north as you can!" 40 Wall Street shouted to a group of stragglers.

An explosion rumbled somewhere above them, echoing through the streets. 40 Wall Street cried out and doubled over, clutching the right side of his rib cage, under the arm.

American International rushed over to him. "Are you okay? What just happened!?" she asked, reaching out to assist her stricken friend.

"I think my other half just got hit," 40 Wall Street gasped. "Not sure how bad."

In their minds they could hear a cacophony of voices. Above them all was 20 Exchange Place, calling out a warning. "I think they're going for another shot. Don't worry, I've got this one!"

***

Perched high off the street, 20 Exchange Place had a perfect view of the walking weapon. He sensed the intention radiating from its pilots-- unsatisfied with the damage, they were lining up a second shot. Breathing slowly, 20 Exchange readied his plasma rail rifle, letting his senses and reflexes do the rest as the walker below fired another of its deadly missiles. He fired a shot off into space, anticipating where the missile would be, judging by its trajectory. The midair explosion as the two projectiles met was immensely satisfying.

Further uptown, the rest of the City Guard was mobilizing, rushing downtown with rail rifles, blades, and blasters at the ready. They also had sensed the injury done to 40 Wall Street and were determined to stop the Berserker in its tracks before anyone else suffered.

In the ensuing chaos, few people paid attention to the soldiers disembarking from the U-boat and heading to shore in inflatable rafts, making a dash for the Berserker as it began its rampage through the financial district. Some of them were tasked with keeping interfering troops away from the walking war machine itself, while others were to create diversions-- whatever it took to divert the city's defenses and fragment its forces.

In the rush to join the fray downtown, 30 Rock, New Yorker, Chrysler, and Empire State formed up into a small hit squad. They had heard the alerts that the Berserker wasn't the only threat. Ground troops had joined the party, heavily armed and itching for a fight.

San Remo, El Dorado, Ritz, and Majestic formed up another squad, likewise determined to give the invaders more than they had bargained for.

Even the Incarnate elders joined the defense. Queensboro Bridge grouped with Hell Gate, Brooklyn, Williamsburg, and Manhattan, with the younger Triborough and George Washington Bridges in tow.

***

Siegfried Hans and a small hand-picked squad of his best men held back from joining the offensive for the moment. He would let the city's defenders get tied up dealing with the other troops and the Berzerker before launching his own assault. Two of his men carried crates of high explosives. He intended to strike at the New York Stock Exchange himself, a final thrust to the city, and indeed, the country's economic heart.

***

Not far from Trinity Church, San Remo's crew found their first SS squad. The Nazis were menacing a terrified group of civilians who had fled from a nearby office building. There was no demand for the soldiers to surrender. This was no mere sabotage attempt, but an all-out act of war. The SS troopers got their warning shot by means of a hail of blaster fire, which made smoking ruins of the men holding guns on the poor office workers. The remaining soldiers didn't have time to see where the assault came from before the furious skyscrapers were on them, slashing away at anything in a Nazi uniform.

San Remo took out two men at once with a horizontal slash that sent their heads toppling to the pavement, El Dorado took out two more with lightning-fast sword strokes, Majestic pounced on one from behind, putting her blaster pistol to the back of his skull and pulling the trigger. She not only took him out, but the Nazi standing in front of him too. Ritz, ever the markswoman, felled the last three. Two ate the daggers hidden in her wrist sheath, and the third caught a blaster bolt to the face.

The frightened civilians didn't need to be told twice to flee, rushing uptown as fast as their legs could carry them, scattering dropped paperwork in their wake. Even a copy of Fray #7 fell from somebody's briefcase, fluttering away on the wind.

***

Another SS squad didn't make it very far before the enraged downtowners found them. 40 Wall Street was determined not to let his pain stop him and was itching for payback. Wounded as he was, he made a perfect decoy, luring the SS soldiers down a narrow side street. His neighbors lay in wait, rifles at the ready. Those soldiers never knew what hit them, being cut down in a hail of rail rifle blasts.

40 Wall Street studied the mess-- what remained of his would-be pursuers, and the holes in the street where the rail rifle slugs had gone clean through their targets and buried themselves in the pavement. Satisfied that there were no survivors, he signaled to his friends higher up that their work here was done. Now there was only the Berserker and its retinue to deal with.

***

Back at Battery Park, Siegfried Hans grew increasingly worried. He could no longer reach two of his squads by radio. One had gone silent shortly after reporting that they had cornered a group of civilians, and the other was even more worrisome-- they had pursued a wounded skyscraper down an alley when the transmission cut out completely. The last squad accompanying the Berserker was still active, making its way towards Wall Street. At least their biggest weapon was still in play.

***

Brooklyn Bridge sensed the goings-on down in the street. Two squads of soldiers had been taken out easily, but the Berserker was still operational. He sent a message to all the other Incarnates in the area to converge on its location, as it needed to be taken out swiftly. "Remember your last briefing!" He sent to his own warriors. "Be careful of the area behind the crew cab. That's where the radium power core is. We don't want to rupture its containment housing. And remember where the armor is thinnest!"

***

As the Berserker made its way through the streets, it tried to fire off a few more missiles, but something seemed to intercept them before they hit their targets. Finally, Kraus and the gunner saw the source of their frustration-- perched high up on a parapet, one of the city's Skyscraper-Incarnates stood, holding a long rifle. Just what kind of weapons did these creatures have? Nazi spies had never reported such advanced weaponry coming from any factory on American soil.

Before the gunner could deal with this roof-hopping annoyance, another situation swiftly arose. The Incarnates converged on the Berserker's location and began to harass its squad of foot soldiers. A couple of Kraus' men fell in a haze of red mist, no doubt struck down by other snipers armed with those cursed rifles. Suddenly, it seemed the Berserker was well and truly surrounded. Incarnates poured in from side streets or descended from the air, coming from all directions.

***

On the ground, the Bridge-Incarnates made bloody inroads into the men guarding the Berserker's right flank. Brooklyn himself claimed several Nazi heads and limbs with the monomolecular edge of his longsword as he dodged the incoming bullets. His mate, Manhattan Bridge, wielded a blaster rifle with a bayonet, and likewise struck down a few of the enemy forces in a frenzy of blaster fire and bladed fury. The other bridges made a fine accounting of themselves as well, shooting or cutting down any of the Nazi forces they could reach.

On the right side, the skyscrapers from uptown were determined not to be outdone, razing down any who challenged them. From the front came another force. Brooklyn spotted Chrysler, Waldorf-Astoria, Empire State, New Yorker, 30 Rock, Hotel Astor, even One Times Square had come to get his blades wet.

As they closed ranks with the Berserker, One Times Square sent a few last minute instructions to Chrysler's mind. Chrysler carried a pouch containing two small bombs with a remote activation switch and electromagnetic bases, designed to latch onto ferrous metal. She needed to get close enough to the Berzerker to plant the bombs, right at its upper leg joints, where its thick armor plating was vulnerable. The other skyscrapers were tasked with clearing as much of a path for her as possible and keeping the Berserker's attention.

***

Up in the Berserker's cab, Kraus beheld a scene of pure chaos around him. At this rate, he might never make it to the Stock Exchange before those damnable skyscrapers whittled away his guards and eventually took the war machine itself out. The bulletproof glass of the cab was already cracked from a few glancing hits. He and his gunner still had one nasty surprise left, though.

"It's about time we drew some real blood! Initiate hailfire!"

Hailfire was originally intended as suppressive fire against enemy vehicles but aimed upwards, a sustained burst of fully automatic missile fire was liable to do terrific damage to the surrounding towers. It might exhaust much of their ammunition in the process, but distracting or taking out a number of these meddlesome skyscrapers was worth such a sacrifice.

"Initiating hailfire," the gunner answered as he adjusted the controls of his weapons, aiming upward and switching to full automatic fire before pulling the triggers which controlled both missile launchers.

***

Below, the skyscrapers sensed a subtle shift in the intentions of the Berserker crew a few seconds before all hell broke loose. Its twin missile launchers came to life in a burst of sustained fire, launching a veritable hailstorm of ordinance towards the towers which ringed the Stock Exchange. Several exploded in mid-air, the rooftop snipers intercepting them with well-placed shots. But there were simply too many to shoot down at once, and explosions shook the air as the towers took solid hits. The Incarnates of those stricken towers felt the blows as well, falling to the street as if struck down by invisible fists.

A couple of the rooftop snipers likewise became casualties. Hotel Astor saw American International go down, almost slipping off of the parapet she had been standing on. Quickly, he leaped up to assist her. One didn't have to be a doctor to see that the damage was far more than a sympathetic reaction to her constructed form's injury. Unfastening her vest, he saw blood seeping through the fabric of her undershirt. She needed medical attention, and quickly. And she wasn't the only one. Down on the street, other skyscrapers had fallen, too. A few were righting themselves, but others appeared to be either in shock or seriously injured.

Hotel Astor noticed some of the other skyscrapers breaking off to assist their fallen, but their assault wasn't over yet. A contingent from midtown maneuvered in for an assault on the Berzerker itself.

***

New Yorker, 30 Rock, and Empire State sliced a path of ruin through the soldiers in their way, creating such a distraction that Chrysler initially had little trouble getting close to the Berserker. Chrysler whipped the two bombs out of their pouch and engaged the electromagnets on their bases before hurling them upward, aiming for the spots where the cursed war machine's legs met its body. Alas, this was where her luck ran out.

***

Up in the cockpit, Kraus was all too aware that he and his machine were being overrun. Those arrogant skyscrapers were getting too close to his legs for comfort, having slashed or shot down most of the troops protecting them from such interference. Looking down, he saw one run right underneath of him. He wasn't about to let such a brazen attack go unchallenged.

***

Underneath the Berserker, the machine's right foot lifted up and move straight toward Chrysler. She dodged, but not quite far enough. The slightest blow sent her flying across the street and into a wall.

For a moment, she lay on the sidewalk, stunned. She was good for at least a couple of broken ribs, if the pain in her chest was any indication. Her spire didn't seem to have escaped intact, either. But all was not lost yet. Right before she was tossed, she'd heard the satisfying clang of metal on metal as her bombs had hit home. Looking down at her wrist, she was relieved to see that the remote switch was still there, shielded beneath the armored housing of her bracer. She sent a telepathic call to the other skyscrapers, then she pressed the switch.

"Trash my city, hurt my friends, kick me into a wall? Oh, HELL no!"

***

Up in the cab, Kraus saw the skyscrapers pulling back. Had the kick he'd given one of them rattled their nerves? Were they regrouping for another assault? Seconds later, he had his answer as the bombs Chrysler had planted went off. While the armor plating of the Berserker kept the cab from being breached, the leg joints were another matter. The joints themselves had been compromised, their vital structure almost blasted clean through, their control lines torn to pieces. The once mighty Berserker wobbled like a New Year's Eve drunk, hydraulic fluid and oil spewing from ruptured lines, before pitching forward and toppling right over.

It was only stopped from slamming down hard onto the pavement by the telekinetic efforts of several of the skyscrapers, who slowed its fall and directed it to land in the middle of the street instead of falling over into one of the nearby buildings.

Once the Berserker was grounded, those same Incarnates swiftly overran it, using their blades to slice the cab open like a grapefruit. Kraus and his gunner were swiftly pulled out of their seats and dragged from the cab. Kraus didn't even have time to go for his sidearm before the irate skyscrapers' blades began to find him. As sword point after point struck home, his mind detached from the situation. He thought of his son, killed in Normandy while fighting the Allies, and of his wife, killed in the wave of bombings that had finally brought Berlin to its knees. As the light faded from his eyes and his world went dark, he thought that perhaps he might see them again.

***

Siegfried Hans and his squad arrived at the New York Stock Exchange, staying well clear of the Berserker and its pursuers. He'd seen the fiery explosions high above as missiles struck home, and the clamor of battle in the streets nearby had echoed through the stone and glass canyons. But now, things were getting too quiet for his liking. He no longer heard the footfalls of the Berserker clanging against the pavement nor the sound of gunner missile fire. Those sounds had been replaced with an ominous metallic crash and a chorus of war whoops and cheers. Had those skyscrapers actually brought down the Berzerker? Its armor was designed to withstand a hail of anti-tank weapons. How could those creatures have done such a thing? No matter, it had done a respectable amount of damage and distracted the city's defenders, allowing him to carry out his own mission unhindered.

***

Above, Hotel Astor flew towards the nearest hospital outside the combat zone, carried the wounded American International. Something below grabbed his attention at the entrance to the New York Stock Exchange. More Nazi soldiers? This day just kept getting worse. Hotel Astor didn't dare go down to engage them-- not with the skyscraper girl in his arms in need of immediate help. But he sent a telepathic warning call to his allies, letting them know the fight wasn't over

***

At the site of the fallen Berzerker, the skyscrapers and bridges of the City Guard still clamored over the wreckage. The pilot and gunner had been dragged from their cockpit and dispatched in a swift and messy fashion. Every missile strike to the surrounding buildings had been avenged with the point of a sword.

New Yorker climbed down from his perch atop the ruined machine, satisfied that its power core hadn't been compromised by the fall. He saw Empire State assisting Chrysler, who had taken a pretty good hit, and One Times Square discouraging several other skyscrapers from inflicting further indignities upon the bodies of the pilot and gunner, which were now lying on the pavement.

"They're already dead," One Times Square said. "Come on, we're better than that!"

Looking up, New Yorker assessed the damage done to the towers nearby, who had borne the brunt of the hailfire assault. New York's fire department would need all the help it could get once it was safe to send the firefighters in. He was pondering that last thought when a voice whispered into his mind. It was Hotel Astor, and it appeared that their fight wasn't over yet. Judging by the response of the other skyscrapers, they also were receiving the message.

So a small squad of Nazi insurgents had managed to get as far as the Stock Exchange, had they? "We'll see about that!" New Yorker sent back.

30 Rock, San Remo, El Dorado, Ritz, and a few others seemed to melt away into thin air as they engaged their stealth fields, planning a sneak assault on these last insurgents.

New Yorker joined them, intent on removing the Nazi menace from his city once and for all.

***

Over at the Stock Exchange, Siegfried Hans and his men advanced onto the trading floor. The place had been evacuated in a hurry, leaving nobody to obstruct or oppose them as they placed their explosives. They only had to get a safe distance away and set the bombs off. Hans held the detonator in his fist, satisfied that his mission was about to come to a successful close. Once all was said and done, he and his men had concocted a plan to vanish, shedding their uniforms and old identities. There was an enclave of Nazi sympathizers in Argentina. They would make their way there.

"Men, our work here is almost done!" he called out. "As soon as everyone is clear, we'll bring this entire place down and tear out our enemy's heart!"

He never got the chance to finish his speech. As the last words left his mouth, a strange sensation raised the hairs on the back of his neck, as if a chill wind blew through him. A split second later, the vast room exploded into violence. Easily a dozen Skyscraper-Incarnates rushed in and killed the closest men with sweeping strokes of their blades. Before Hans could react, he was surrounded by four of the massive creatures.

***

San Remo pointed her sword at Hans and his detonator. "Drop it or die!" she demanded. Behind her, 30 Rock, 120 Wall Street, and Majestic brought their weapons to bear.

"Never!" Hans screamed, his voice adding to the surrounding cacophony of battle cries and dying screams. "If the glorious Reich must fall, you shall fall with it, even if it's my last act on this earth!" He moved his thumb towards the detonator button, but never completed the act. Before Hans could set off the charges, New Yorker appeared behind him, bringing his sword down in a two-handed cleave that struck Hans's arm off just below the shoulder.

San Remo and the others hurried to take Hans into custody, applying telekinesis to the veins of what was left of his arm, pinching them shut. It wouldn't do to take him alive only to have him bleed to death. The rest of the skyscrapers were already finishing their clean up. A couple of other Nazis had been taken prisoner, bleeding from non-lethal wounds. The others were scattered around the trading floor like so many fallen leaves.

One Times Square searched the room and defused the bombs in rapid succession.

The battle was over. The Berserker war machine lay in a heap in the street, its troops and crew likewise dead. The small squads of soldiers sent to sow chaos as a diversion were eliminated, and the U-Boat and its remaining crew had been captured. Now, the ringleader himself was in City Guard custody with most of his men dead around him.

***

One week later:

In the financial district, things started to return to normal. The military quickly took custody of the Berserker's remains. The damage to the neighborhood's skyscrapers resulted in one of the largest firefighting operations in New York City's history-- a job made vastly easier by the assistance of Skyscraper and Bridge-Incarnates, who put their levitation skills to use by airlifting firefighters and equipment where they were needed. Casualties in the towers had been few, thanks to the Incarnates' evacuation of the tenants as soon as the U-boat was sighted.
Shortly after the attack, Hotel Astor offered one of his huge ballrooms for a press conference. As Astor prepared to address the assembled reporters, one journalist noted the glass in the Incarnate's hand.

Astor's response became the stuff of legend. "Alcohol!" he said, taking a sip. "Because no good story ever started with a salad!"

Already, ironworkers were repairing the structural damage, and people were going back to work. The wounded Skyscraper-Incarnates were recovering nicely, thanks to the joint efforts of the city's finest doctors and the Skyscraper community's own healers.

Siegfried Hans and the other Nazi holdouts were swiftly tried by a military tribunal. Many humans and Incarnates alike offered damning testimony. A guilty verdict was no surprise, with Hans receiving a death sentence for orchestrating the attack.

***

At the ceremony held to honor the heroes of what came to be known as the Battle of Wall Street, Captain Fred O'Mally spoke to the assembled Skyscraper and Bridge-Incarnates. "When I first met you, I had my doubts," he said. "You were like no recruits I'd trained before, and I wondered if you had what it took. But I and my superiors decided to give you a chance to prove yourselves. Today, I'm proud to say you've proven your detractors wrong. You've shown a resolve as strong as your own steel in the face of grave threats. When battered, you remained unbowed. In the end, your strength and courage saved this city, and perhaps the country, a potentially crippling blow. I'm proud of all of you. The US Armed Forces are proud of you, and your city is proud of you, too!"

Shortly afterward, O'Mally met with the assembled City Guard, who had appointed Chrysler and Empire State to speak for them.

"As you know, many distinguished regiments, units, and squadrons in the Armed Forces are known by distinct names, and even have their own emblems," O'Mally said. "Considering your acts of service to your city and country, you have more than earned yours. Have you come up with something suitable?"

"As a matter of fact, yes!" Empire State said, unfurling a hand-painted banner. "Here's the emblem we've decided on."

Rendered in silver against a black background was the profile of a skyscraper. At its base were two crossed swords, the weapon Incarnates favored above all others.

Chrysler spoke next. "Do you remember your history lessons, Captain? The first peoples of what would eventually become New York City called this place Mannahatta, meaning 'many hills'. We have heard our city referred to even in these times as 'the city of man-made mountains'. With this history in mind, we've chosen a name to go with our new emblem. From this day forth, we wish to be called The Blades Of Mannahatta."