Black terror swept across the world like a space plague.
In a single, devastating moment, endless darkness enveloped the Earth. Fear descended like arctic wind from the polar caps, flash-freezing the seven seas and casting an oppressive shadow over every continent. The very atmosphere seemed to thicken with dread, transforming familiar landscapes into nightmare realms where hope withered and died.
New York City - Manhattan
A sphere of absolute darkness consumed the entire metropolitan area, its obsidian surface reflecting nothing, no light, no hope, no escape. From the outside, Manhattan had simply vanished, replaced by a perfect void that defied conventional physics.
Inside that sphere, reality had become a waking nightmare.
Citizens who had been going about their daily routines moments before now wandered the streets with blood-red eyes and expressions of manic desperation. Fear had awakened something primal and destructive within their minds, transforming ordinary people into agents of chaos who attacked everything and everyone around them.
The desire for destruction consumed their thoughts completely. Rational thought had been replaced by pure, animalistic terror that demanded violent action. Flight was impossible, the sphere trapped them all, so their fear-addled minds could only respond with aggression.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire echoed through the darkened streets as people who had never held weapons before discovered deadly tools and began firing wildly. Cars crashed into each other in chain reactions of twisted metal and exploding fuel tanks. Buildings caught fire from the wreckage, their flames providing the only light in the supernatural darkness.
Those without weapons could only run in blind panic, praying desperately that some hero would appear to save them from this impossible nightmare.
But the heroes were nowhere to be found.
Neither the Plumbers nor the Thunderbolts team had taken any action, because they too had been overwhelmed by the Fear entity's space influence.
Above Manhattan's Chaos
Peter Parker had been web-swinging through his patrol route when the fear-wave struck. One moment he was soaring between skyscrapers with practiced ease, the next his web-shooters simply... stopped working.
The mechanical devices didn't malfunction, they ceased to exist in any meaningful way, as though reality itself had forgotten they were supposed to function.
Peter plummeted from a height of thirty stories, his enhanced reflexes useless as he crashed into the asphalt with bone-jarring force. Cracks spider-webbed outward from the impact point, and he lay stunned for several precious seconds.
"Okay, that's gonna leave a mark," he muttered, struggling to his feet.
Actually, his back felt fine. The advanced vibranium-composite suit Ben had designed absorbed kinetic energy beautifully, better than fine, really. The impact had left him feeling oddly... hollow, as though something fundamental was missing.
Peter crouched on the broken street, trying to repair his web-shooters with hands that seemed clumsier than usual.
"How could both shooters break simultaneously?" he wondered aloud. "The redundancy systems should have, "
CRASH!
Everything went black as a runaway truck weighing dozens of tons slammed into him at full speed, carrying his body straight through the glass facade of a nearby office building. Peter crashed through two interior walls before finally coming to rest, pinned between the truck's crumpled hood and a load-bearing pillar.
He was trapped but technically uninjured, the vibranium in his suit had distributed the impact perfectly.
But something was terribly wrong.
"My spider-sense didn't trigger," Peter whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
His early warning system had failed countless times before, "Peter-tingle" was notoriously unreliable. But this felt different. This felt like... absence.
Peter braced his hands against the truck's engine block and pushed with all his strength.
Nothing happened.
The vehicle didn't budge. Not even slightly.
"I can't move this?" Peter's voice cracked with growing horror as an impossible realization struck him. "I lost my powers..."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Without his superhuman abilities, what was he? Without being Spider-Man, wouldn't he just return to being the invisible, insignificant Peter Parker he'd been before that fateful spider bite?
"No..." he moaned in despair, the sound echoing through the destroyed office space.
At that moment, a mocking voice cut through his anguish.
"No? Let's see what's happened to the poor little spider."
A familiar green shadow descended on a glider, moving with fluid grace as it navigated the debris field like an expert skier. The figure landed with practiced ease directly in front of the wrecked truck.
Through the gap between metal and concrete, Peter caught sight of his rescuer and felt a moment of profound relief.
"Harry! Thank God you're here. Please help me, my powers aren't working for some reason. I think there might be something wrong with Ben's enhancement formula..."
"I'm glad to see you too, Peter," Harry replied, but something in his voice made Peter's blood run cold.
Even through the familiar Green Goblin mask, Peter could sense something fundamentally wrong with his best friend's demeanor.
"I'm so very glad I get to kill you with my own hands."
"What did you say?" Peter stammered, unable to process what he was hearing.
Before he could ask for clarification, Harry produced a pumpkin bomb and held it up where Peter could see it clearly.
"Die, Peter Parker!" Harry snarled with venomous hatred. "You and Ben are both worthless bastards who watch people suffer without lifting a finger to help! You brought this on yourself!"
The high-yield explosive detonated with tremendous force, the blast igniting the truck's fuel tank in a secondary explosion that sent flames and smoke billowing through hundreds of square meters.
In the heart of that inferno, Harry's maniacal laughter echoed like something from the deepest pits of hell.
Plumbers Orbital Station - Conference Room
"Calm down, Dr. Banner," Norman Osborn said carefully, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
The conference room that had hosted casual conversation minutes before had become a tense standoff. Norman and Otto Octavius had positioned themselves as far as possible from Bruce Banner, whose skin was beginning to show an ominous blue tinge.
"Take deep breaths," Norman continued, his own voice shaky despite his attempts at authority. "Don't let the memories in your head control you. They're illusions, none of it is real."
Norman's pale complexion and labored breathing revealed that he had experienced similar psychological assault. In those first moments of the fear-wave's arrival, his memories had been corrupted, showing him an alternate past where his genetic disease was never cured, his company was stolen, and he had descended into complete madness.
He had almost lost himself to that false history. Some darker voice in his mind had whispered seductive promises of violence, destruction, and revenge against those who had wronged his imaginary other self.
Fortunately, Banner's near-transformation had shocked Norman back to reality. Fear of the Hulk's emergence had proven stronger than fear of his own past failures.
"Are you all right, Otto?" Norman asked, finally looking toward their third friend.
Otto appeared remarkably composed compared to the other two, though he kept casting nervous glances at Banner's increasingly muscular frame.
"What could possibly be wrong with me?" Otto replied matter-of-factly.
"Why are you wearing a dress if nothing's wrong?!" Norman felt his sanity stretching to its breaking point.
Imagine seeing a slightly overweight middle-aged man squeezed into a low-cut evening gown, complete with high heels and heavy makeup that emphasized his chest hair rather than concealing it. The sight belonged in a nightmare rather than reality.
Norman's observation triggered an explosive reaction from Otto.
"Are you mocking me?!" Otto shrieked, his face flushing crimson beneath the garish cosmetics. "Do you think I'm some kind of sissy?! I'll have you know I'm married with children!"
"If you don't want people to think that, why are you dressed like a cabaret performer?!" Norman shot back, feeling his grip on sanity slipping further.
Otto had already hiked up his skirt and was preparing to charge when Banner's condition deteriorated dramatically.
The scientist roared with inhuman fury, the sound waves powerful enough to make Norman and Otto stagger as though caught in a hurricane. Banner's body had swollen to nearly twice its normal size, his massive head almost touching the conference room ceiling. Bulging muscles had shredded his shirt completely, and his expression carried the promise of violence that would spare no one.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The roar shattered every piece of glass in the room while making Norman and the cross-dressing Otto freeze in place.
If they didn't handle this situation immediately, everyone aboard the orbital station would die.
"Try the lullaby," Otto suggested desperately, then attempted a seductive pose that only made Banner more enraged.
The Hulk's basketball-sized fist crushed a nearby instrument panel like an empty soda can.
"You want to imprison me!" Banner accused, glaring at his friends with murderous intent.
"Banner, what are you talking about?" Otto asked in confusion.
"Don't pretend you don't know," Banner snarled, his voice deepening as the transformation accelerated. "You tricked me into coming to this station so you'd have a place to contain me! As soon as I lose control, you'll blow this place up or just throw me into space! You want to kill me!"
"Wait," Otto protested, "you chose to stay here voluntarily. No one forced you!"
"You think I'm a monster!" Banner roared, lunging toward them with devastating force.
Norman and Otto didn't hesitate, they ran.
The chase became a deadly game of tag through the station's corridors, with Banner's superhuman strength turning everything in his path into shrapnel. Norman managed to activate the emergency vibranium blast doors, and both men slid under the descending barrier just as it sealed.
BOOM!
The reinforced vibranium wall immediately began glowing from the impacts of Banner's fists, but it held.
"Is that guy completely insane?" Otto panted, struggling to run in high heels. "Didn't he want to work on the space station?"
Norman's expression grew thoughtful as he processed what they had witnessed. "The Hulk has always been Banner's greatest fear. He's terrified of himself, afraid that everyone sees him as a monster..."
Considering his own false memories, understanding began to dawn.
"The enemy is using our deepest fears against us," Norman realized. "Their power is so overwhelming it's actually affecting reality, changing how we perceive ourselves and others."
"I'm afraid of becoming a woman?" Otto asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous!"
"Who knows," Norman replied with dark humor. "Maybe you heard Ben mention there's a female version of Otto Octavius in some parallel universe."
The logic was sound, even if the manifestation was disturbing.
"This is mortifying! I need to change clothes immediately!" Otto declared, wobbling away on his stilettos.
Norman sighed deeply, his mind already working through the tactical implications. Dr. Banner was just one example, likely every superhero and Plumber agent was trapped in similar fear-induced psychological states. How many could resist their terrors long enough to continue fighting?
"All personnel, respond immediately if you can hear this," Norman commanded through the emergency communication system.
"Here, Mr. Osborn," Natasha Romanoff replied first. Her voice carried unusual strain, anger mixed with profound pain.
For her, the greatest fear was no longer the Red Room's horrors but the collapse of the Plumbers, the family that had given her life meaning. She had witnessed the deaths of people she cared about, but rather than breaking her, the visions had made her furious.
Some people surrendered to fear. Others found strength in it.
"I'm here too," Steve Rogers added, though his voice sounded strangely unsteady.
"Steve? You sound different," Natasha observed with concern.
"Well, I am nearly a hundred years old now," Steve replied with forced humor.
On his end of the communication, Steve looked like a man in his eighties, wrinkled, gray-haired, and moving with the careful precision of someone whose body could betray him at any moment.
"Don't joke about that," Natasha chided.
"I'm not joking," Steve admitted. He was indeed approaching his centennial birthday, both chronologically and biologically. Under the fear-power's influence, he was experiencing life as though he had never been frozen, living through every year from World War II to the present, watching all his friends and loved ones age and die while he remained aware of every passing moment.
The weight of a century's worth of loss and isolation pressed down on him like a physical burden.
"Take a break, old man," Natasha suggested gently.
"Don't underestimate me," Steve replied with familiar determination. "I can do this all day."
He tightened his grip on his shield and prepared for battle. His body might be aged, but the super-soldier serum still provided enhanced capabilities, and his will remained unbroken.
One by one, other Plumber agents checked in, their voices carrying the strain of psychological warfare but their resolve intact. Perhaps they couldn't match the superheroes in raw power, but their intelligence training had prepared them for mental assault. Fear might slow them down, but it wouldn't stop them.
"Good," Norman said with relief. "At least some of our forces remain operational. All Plumber personnel, begin immediate counter-operations against the enemy!"
"The Thunderbolts team isn't going to be much help right now, "
CRASH!
Norman's briefing was interrupted by a thunderous impact that shook the entire station. It wasn't an explosion but the sound of something massive striking the hull with tremendous force.
"Norman! Ben Parker! You lied to me!"
William Baker materialized at the end of the corridor, his sandy form partially dispersed as though he were struggling to maintain cohesion. His eyes blazed with murderous rage as he stared at Norman like a man betraying his deepest trust.
"The Plumbers promised to heal my daughter!"
"We did promise that," Norman replied carefully, slowly lowering his communication device.
"But she's dead!" William's voice broke with grief and fury. "You let her die!"
"She's not dead, William," Norman said firmly but gently. "You're experiencing fear-induced hallucinations. Think clearly, we have no reason to deceive you about your daughter's condition. Her illness wasn't even difficult for our medical technology to address."
"She's... not dead?" William's rage faltered as confusion replaced certainty.
"Have you forgotten taking her to the amusement park before you left for Asgard?" Norman continued. "She had already recovered by then. She rode the carousel and laughed when you won her that stuffed animal."
"Yes... yes, she's not dead. We went to the park, and she was so happy. She wanted to ride everything twice..." William's expression shifted between two completely contradictory sets of memories, his sandy form fluctuating with his emotional state.
Norman didn't explain the phenomenon, there wasn't time. Instead, he gave clear, simple orders.
"Now that you're thinking clearly, take action immediately. Someone is using fear as a weapon to control everyone on Earth. They must be stopped!"