"Okay. Let's go through it again."
Peter Parker let go of his web-line at the absolute apex of his swing, experiencing a brief, stomach-dropping moment of weightlessness over the crisp November streets of Manhattan. The wind whipped past the white lenses of his mask. He felt completely listless.
[On Tuesday, you kissed Gwen] a dark, oily voice rumbled directly against the inside of his skull. [On Wednesday, you hugged Cindy. Then on Thursday, you played the 'I'm still thinking about it' card.]
Peter shot out another web, banking hard around a water tower. "I'm not playing cards. I'm trying not to ruin my life."
[When you walk into Midtown High on Friday, two different girls are going to be flanking you] Venom purred, the symbiote's amusement vibrating down Peter's spine. [Congratulations. You've successfully attracted the wrath of every single nerd in the building. They simply don't understand how a fifteen-year-old trainwreck like you manages it.]
"Except for Harry and Cho," Peter grumbled.
[I seriously doubt Harry qualifies as a nerd.]
"Look, I didn't plan any of this. I haven't come to any conclusions, and the whole thing is just embarrassing."
Peter landed lightly on the edge of a gargoyle, crouching in the chill air. Manhattan below him was quiet. Between dealing with Kang the Conqueror and the usual local headaches, things had been surprisingly peaceful. Even regular muggers seemed to be taking the month off.
[Perhaps you just want to string two girls along], Venom suggested, the mental equivalent of a smirk. [You enjoy the game.]
"I do not."
[Admit it. You felt a spike of dopamine when you realized two separate, highly capable girls were vying for your attention.]
Peter opened his mouth to argue, then snapped his jaw shut. He gripped the stone gargoyle, his fingers digging into the masonry. "Wait. Hold on. Am I only having these thoughts because you're in my head?"
[I am a mirror, Peter,] Venom replied smoothly. [I can only reinforce ideas. I cannot create them out of thin air. If you suddenly feel like you could juggle multiple girlfriends, it is only because the desire already existed in your subconscious.]
Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose through his mask. Having a fleeting teenage thought and actually possessing the reinforced sociopathy to put it into practice were two entirely different universes. He was about to tell the symbiote that aliens don't get a vote on his dating life, when the tactical eyepiece in his mask chimed with a high-priority override.
"Spider-Man? Are you online? You need to see this."
Peter blinked. "Received, JARVIS. Patch it through."
A video window snapped open on his heads-up display. It was a live feed bouncing from H.E.R.B.I.E. to Amadeus Cho's mobile device.
Peter froze. He entirely forgot to shoot his next web.
Gravity took over. Peter plummeted, flailing, and slammed face-first into the brick exterior of a Chrysler Building annex. He slid down the masonry, groaning, as the AI's crisp voice cut back in.
"Are you functionally intact, Spider-Man?"
"I'm fine," Peter wheezed, peeling himself off the bricks. "I just... I needed a second to figure out what universe I'm currently living in."
"A logical reaction to the provided footage, sir."
No, that's not what I meant, Peter thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. His fourth-wall awareness was screaming. Marvel Zombies. He knew the storyline. The infection was supposed to originate on Earth-2149 and spread to the Ultimate Universe. Earth-616 had the thickest reality barrier in the Web model. Why the hell was the zombified Fantastic Four eating security guards in his New York? Did the local Reed Richards accidentally download the wrong multiverse script?
"Cho!" Peter shouted into his comms, launching himself off the wall and swinging violently toward the Baxter Building. "Cho, give me a sitrep!"
"I'm alive! For now!" Amadeus's voice cracked with panic over the static. "I'm manually overriding Zombie Mr. Fantastic to keep him from locking down the tower! Currently evading the Thing and the Human Torch. Well, mostly the Torch!"
"Get as low as you can," Peter ordered. He crested a skyscraper and saw the Avengers Tower in the distance. A swarm of silver dots poured out of the launch bays. "Stark is deploying the Ultron drones to establish a quarantine perimeter. They're doing extraction. If you see silver, run to it!"
Peter looked up. High above the Baxter Building, a blinding, localized pillar of white light slammed into the roof. It crackled with atmospheric displacement, looking suspiciously like the Bifrost.
"Uh, Cho?" Peter muttered.
Inside the Baxter Building, Amadeus didn't answer. He was currently sprinting for his life.
Zombie Johnny Storm roared, leaving a trail of sickly, necrotic fire as he rounded the laboratory corner. He had triangulated Amadeus's network intrusion. "Found you!" the undead Torch cackled, launching himself forward.
He flew face-first into a transparent barrier, hitting the reinforced glass with a sickening crack of rotting bone.
Cho stood on the other side of the glass, his hands flying across a wall-mounted control terminal. Heavy steel shutters slammed down, sealing the four glass walls of the containment cell.
Zombie Johnny sneered, his jaw hanging loose. He ignited his fists, pressing them against the glass to melt his way through. The glass merely blackened, holding firm.
"High-density polymer weave," Cho panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Mr. Richards built this specific chamber to test your bursts without burning the building down. You aren't getting out of there for at least two minutes."
"Two minutes?" Zombie Johnny laughed, the sound wet and awful. "You think you're going to live another two minutes?"
Amadeus shook his head. He gripped the heavy manual lever on the console. "This is the vacuum-testing laboratory, Mr. Storm."
He threw the lever.
Heavy industrial turbines engaged. The ambient oxygen inside the glass cell was violently sucked out through the floor vents. Zombies didn't need to breathe, but fire still needed oxygen to burn.
Zombie Johnny's necrotic flames sputtered, starved, and instantly died out. Without his fire, his associated superhuman abilities vanished. He was suddenly nothing more than a charred, rotting corpse banging weakly against bulletproof glass.
Amadeus didn't wait to celebrate. He grabbed his phone and bolted for the lab exit.
A massive, rocky hand slammed into the metal doorframe, buckling the steel.
Zombie Ben Grimm filled the doorway, his craggy orange skin stained with fresh blood. Amadeus skidded to a halt, his blood running cold.
Behind the glass, Johnny was still weakly slamming his fists. "Hey! Ben! Get me out of here!"
"Sorry, Johnny, my hearing's not what it used to be!" Zombie Ben growled, his eyes fixed entirely on Amadeus. "I'll let you out after I finish my appetizer."
Dammit, Cho thought, stepping backward. The lab had tools for thermal suppression, not brute-force kinetic impact. He braced himself, calculating an impossible dodge angle.
He moved. Ben moved faster.
The zombie Thing snatched Amadeus by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the floor. "Gotcha," Ben rasped, unhinging his jaw. "Let's start with the brain—"
A deafening shockwave shattered every remaining glass beaker in the room.
A massive, golden warhammer slammed directly into the side of Zombie Ben's head. The concussive force ripped the undead behemoth off his feet, sending him crashing through three rows of metal workbenches in a tangle of ruined rock and twisted steel.
Cho dropped to the floor, coughing violently as the dust settled.
A shadow fell over him. Cho looked up to see a mountain of a man, bare-chested and rippling with absurd musculature. The man casually hefted the heavy warhammer, resting it on his shoulder.
"The mortal realm never ceases to provide excellent sport," the giant boomed, his voice echoing with absolute authority. He extended a massive hand toward Amadeus. "Greetings, mortal. I am Hercules, Prince of Power. Might you point me in the direction of Thor?"
Eastern Europe, the Royal Palace of Latveria.
Victor Von Doom sat motionless on his throne. A holographic projection hovered over the polished stone floor. It was a delayed distress transmission from the Baxter Building, playing the face of the man Doom despised above all others.
"Victor," the recorded Reed Richards said, his voice laced with uncharacteristic desperation. "If you are seeing this... the Fantastic Four have fallen. An unprecedented infection threatens the entire planet. I beg you. Put aside our differences. Save our world."
The transmission flickered and died.
"Foolish Richards," Doom rumbled from behind his steel mask.
He stood up, his green cape billowing heavily. He turned to his second-in-command, gently passing the infant Valeria into the captain's armored arms.
Doom raised his gauntlet. Arcane energy sparked across his metal fingertips, tearing open a glowing green portal in the center of the throne room.
"I do not need to guess what happened here," Doom stated, his voice a cold, precise blade. "I already know exactly who brought this plague to my world."