Manhattan, New York
The Other plummeted from orbit, a living meteor carving a path of destruction through the sky. He used the bodies of his own Chitauri soldiers as grotesque buffers, their forms disintegrating against the friction of reentry before he finally slammed into a Manhattan skyscraper.
The impact was catastrophic. Steel groaned and glass rained down like a crystalline waterfall as the towering structure shuddered and collapsed in on itself. The Chitauri Warlord, a being of immense power, barely slowed as he tore through floor after floor, finally crashing through a suspended overpass before cratering the street below. A cloud of dust and debris billowed into the sky.
Despite an impact that would have atomized any lesser being, he was alive.
With a groan, The Other shook his head, clearing the ringing from his ears. A ferocious, blood-soaked smile stretched across his alien features as he looked up. Silhouetted against the dust-choked sky, Earth's heroes were converging on his position.
The first to land was T'Challa, the Black Panther. He had fallen from the edge of space without a flicker of fear, his arms crossed over his chest in silent prayer as his vibranium suit absorbed the forces of his descent.
Wakanda Forever.
He hit the asphalt like a thunderclap, the ground shattering around him. He rose gracefully, shaking off fragments of concrete as a cat would shake off water.
Captain America was next. The Other's initial attack aboard the Leviathan had knocked him unconscious, but Peter's quick thinking—encasing him in a protective web cocoon—had saved him from the vacuum of space. T'Challa had retrieved him, and the moment Steve awoke, he had thrown himself back into the fight.
Then came a figure unlike the others.
Swathed in a shifting, living darkness, Peter Parker descended. The Venom symbiote had formed glider-like wings between his arms and thighs, allowing him to swoop down like a flying squirrel. As he neared the ground, the symbiote sprouted thick, powerful tendrils that latched onto the eaves of a nearby building, carving deep gouges into the facade as he bled off his momentum. He came to a halt clinging diagonally to the wall, a single hand supporting his weight as he looked down on the alien Warlord.
Okay, Peter thought, his mind still reeling. So, your name is Venom. And you're a… symbiote. It was only now, wrapped in the creature's embrace, that he was beginning to grasp the situation.
"Although I have no idea what a symbiote is, I feel incredible with your help," Peter said aloud, his voice a low growl amplified by the suit. He could feel it—a raw, untamed power coursing through him, magnifying his own strength and filling him with a dizzying confidence.
In reality, the initial boost to his physical strength was marginal. The symbiote was simply unlocking the inhibitors on Peter's own power, augmenting it with a potent psychological high that made him feel ten times stronger. But as Venom slowly copied and integrated Peter's unique biology, that illusion would soon become a terrifying reality.
"Yes," a voice hissed back, not through his ears, but directly inside his skull. "WE ARE VENOM!"
The symbiote was electric, buzzing with a manic energy that bordered on euphoric. In a way, bonding with Spider-Man had fulfilled a primal obsession it had inherited from a previous, far more chaotic host. More than that, it was utterly fascinated by this new body's sheer potential.
"You're a polite one, kid!" Venom rasped gleefully. "Now let's go bite that guy's head off! Then we can take his axe, use it to chop off his—"
"Whoa, what?" Peter stammered, his wholesome sensibilities clashing violently with the symbiote's graphic suggestions. He never, ever swore. "Do… do you have to talk like that?"
"Fine, whatever. Let's just get to it!"
Suddenly, Norman Osborn's voice crackled through their private comm line. "The planetary shield is down. Does anyone have eyes on the cause?"
Norman stared at the sky from his command center. The shield, Earth's last line of defense, had winked out of existence only moments after activating. The tide of Chitauri that had been held at bay was now flooding through the gap. Though Natasha and the others had destroyed the Leviathan and its internal breeding grounds, the existing swarm was still a world-ending threat.
"You'll have to ask our Asgardian friends about that one," Tony's voice replied. He was in the Avengers Tower, a mechanical gantry hastily fitting him into the Mark VI armor. "Hang on, where's Ben?" Tony scanned the battlefield readings. "Who knows with that guy? Also, can anyone tell me why the temperature in New York is plummeting? Last I checked, we weren't in the Arctic Circle."
On the ground, Steve glanced up. A few blocks away, an unnatural frost was creeping over the skyscrapers, ice crystals glittering in the pale light. A cold, howling wind snaked through the urban canyons like a white dragon. He recognized it instantly from the battle in New Mexico. The Casket of Ancient Winters.
"It sounds like Loki and Ben are in trouble," Steve sighed, his heart sinking.
"You should be more worried about yourselves," Tony shot back, his thrusters firing as he rocketed towards The Other's position. "Leave the cosmic weather report to us."
High above, Falcon banked, his mechanical wings slicing through the air. He, along with Harry as the Neo Green Goblin and Clint, were engaging the swarm, trying to keep the Chitauri off the ground team. The only silver lining was that Norman had managed to evacuate Manhattan, moving the entire civilian population into underground shelters.
In one such shelter, Thor held Jane Foster's hand, his knuckles white. He stared helplessly at the live broadcast of the battle raging across the city. Norman, a master of public relations, was ensuring the world knew who was saving it. H.A.M.M.E.R. would not be an organization of unsung heroes.
The city watched in horror as the Chitauri swarmed. Air Force fighters were swatted from the sky like flies. The small band of heroes held the line, a fragile dam against an overwhelming flood, while the ground team faced a monster who was clearly in a league of his own. Even surrounded by Earth's mightiest, The Other held the upper hand. Wielding his twin-bladed axe, his advantage was absolute.
Thor felt a knot of helpless fury tighten in his gut. He should be out there. But stripped of his power, he was useless. He couldn't understand how his father, Odin, could stand by and watch as these invaders desecrated one of the Nine Realms.
On the screen, the battle intensified.
Spider-Man fired a line of black webbing that stuck fast to The Other's arm. He dug his heels in and pulled, straining to unbalance the behemoth. But the Warlord's power was immense. Not only did Peter fail to move him, but he was violently yanked forward, pulled off his feet and into the path of a devastating punch.
The blow landed squarely on Peter's chest with a sickening crunch. The force was so great it nearly caved in his sternum, the shockwave blasting through his body and shredding the symbiote on his back. Peter was launched like a ragdoll, smashing into the wall of a building and disappearing into the rubble.
Seeing it happen, Tony's breath caught in his throat. By now, everyone on the team knew the truth about Peter Parker. They knew he was just a kid, and a silent, protective pact had formed around him. That punch should have killed him. Tony and Steve's faces went pale. If Peter died… they didn't know how they would ever face Ben.
Rage, pure and undiluted, flooded through the heroes. But The Other was indifferent. If anger could win wars, the Chitauri would have been dust millennia ago.
"This is only the beginning," the Warlord snarled, his voice a cruel rasp. "I will personally cleave the heads from all who dare rebel against destiny!"
"Then come and try it!" Tony retorted, his voice tight with fury.
Just then, a weak voice crackled over the comms. "Cough… I'm okay. Might… might need to lie down for a minute."
Inside the ruins, Peter coughed violently, his teeth gritted against a wave of agony. The Other's punch had nearly torn his heart out, but the Venom symbiote was already swarming over the wound. Like a frantic, living suture, it pulled his shattered ribs back into place and knit together his ruptured organs.
Venom… you saved me, Peter thought, stunned.
"Careful," the symbiote warned. "My healing isn't infinite. That big guy is too strong. I have a plan."
"What is it?" Peter asked, hoping for some brilliant tactical insight.
"We run!"
"Absolutely not!" Peter rejected the idea instantly. "We can't leave the other"
"I don't care about them!"
"You're… you're not a very good person, are you?" Peter said, a little disappointed.
"I'm a survivor," Venom retorted, unconcerned. "Besides, even with my help, this isn't an instant fix. I just put your organs and bones back together. Think of it like biological superglue. You've still got at least ten broken bones."
"Then I'll just have to fight with the other one hundred and ninety-six," Peter said, his voice firm with resolve.
Venom sighed internally. The more powerful the host, the harder they were to control directly. The best it could do was amplify Peter's emotions, but in this case, that only made him more determined to defeat The Other.
Peter had said he needed to lie down, but within seconds he was climbing from the rubble, limping heavily as he rejoined the fight.
The battle raged on. The Other swung his axe at Steve, who blocked with his shield but was still sent flying like a golf ball, colliding with Tony as he tried to strafe the Warlord from the air. The alien's axe began to glow, charging with energy. A blinding beam shot forth, a spear of light meant to impale both heroes.
T'Challa was still recovering, too far away to help.
Just as the beam was about to strike, a silver shadow leaped from the rooftops, tackling Steve and Tony and sending them tumbling to safety. The figure rolled to a stop, and as Tony and Steve looked up, they saw who it was. Steve's eyes widened, a flicker of stunned joy crossing his face.
It was the Winter Soldier.
Bucky glanced at Steve, then his gaze flickered towards Tony before quickly looking away. He couldn't bring himself to meet the eyes of the man whose parents he had murdered. But in that moment, old ghosts had to wait.
"I owe you one," Tony grunted, pushing himself to his feet. The arc reactor in his chest flared to life, unleashing a powerful unibeam.
The Other raised his axe to block, the energy dissipating around him, but the force of the blast still sent him stumbling back several feet.
"Here's your reward!" Tony yelled, rocketing forward again. He was immediately swatted out of the air by a backhand from the Warlord, his armor scraping violently across the pavement.
"Bucky, together!" Captain America shouted.
The Winter Soldier didn't respond—he wasn't even sure he was the man Steve was shouting for—but his body moved on instinct. The two super-soldiers charged as one. T'Challa, back on his feet, joined the assault, claws extended. Peter, ignoring the fire in his chest, threw himself back into the fray.
They would not give up. They would not flee. They would kill the Warlord, or they would die trying.
Tony's armor shuddered, the systems screaming warnings in his ears. He'd lost all feeling in his left arm, but the fight had to continue. Steve's shield was knocked from his grasp, embedding itself deep in the wall of a building. Trying to save him, Bucky's metal arm was sheared off at the shoulder.
At the same time, he yelled into the comms, "Can anyone tell me where Dr. Connors is? Is he lost? We can't hold on much longer!"
Connors himself answered, his voice sluggish. "Sorry, Tony. It's… too cold. I can't… move…" The Lizard, a cold-blooded creature, was helpless in the unnatural chill, on the verge of hibernation.
Tony was about to curse when Connors added, "Don't worry. There's a hot-tempered friend on his way."
He meant Banner.
"Great! When is he—?"
His question was answered by a thunderous, world-shaking roar.
Tony snapped his head up and saw it: a green comet descending from the heavens. The Hulk. He was already pulling back an arm thicker than an oak tree, his muscles coiling like a fully drawn bow. Seeing it, Tony swung his own arm down in a fierce, pointing gesture and bellowed a single word to his team:
"INCOMING!"
The heroes looked up. At the sight of the Hulk, a desperate hope ignited in their chests. It didn't matter if Connors couldn't make it. Someone far stronger had arrived.
The Other saw him too. He raised his battle axe, preparing to meet the attack head-on.
But the Avengers, who had been pummeled into the dirt for the last ten minutes, were not about to let that happen. Peter instantly shot volley after volley of black webbing, binding the Warlord's entire body. T'Challa leaped directly onto his axe arm, digging his vibranium claws deep into the alien's flesh.
The Other roared in agony, straining to break free. He almost succeeded, but Peter, fueled by adrenaline, threw his entire body onto the axe as well, helping T'Challa hold it down. Dozens of tons of raw power exploded in a single, desperate moment.
Even the mighty Warlord couldn't break their hold.
He was trapped. And Hulk's fist was already there.
It connected with The Other's head, and the world went silent for a fraction of a second.
Then, like a watermelon dropped from a skyscraper, the Chitauri Warlord's head simply ceased to exist.
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