Simultaneously
Manhattan, New York
Within the Dark Dimension's Prison
The dagger of light, which had illuminated the suffocating darkness with the pale glow of life force, tumbled through the air like a wounded bird falling from the sky. Its last glimmer of radiance sputtered and died, swallowed by the endless black.
Midnight Nurse lunged forward, catching the unconscious Tandy Bowen before her body could hit the cracked pavement. The young woman's skin was cold, almost translucent, drained of vitality by weeks of serving as their only light source.
"Where's Strange?" Daredevil's voice cut through the oppressive silence, his head tilted at that characteristic angle as he listened to the ambient sounds of their imprisoned city.
"Who knows?" Luke Cage's bitter laugh echoed off nearby buildings. "Maybe our magician version of hope just wandered off to die alone somewhere."
The weight of despair hung heavier than the darkness itself. It had been over a year since Madam Hydra had trapped Manhattan within this pocket of the Dark Dimension. In this nightmare realm, nothing that generated light or energy could exist. Electricity, fire, even body heat above a certain threshold, all of it was consumed by the ravenous darkness.
No light. No power. No escape.
They were slowly dying, waiting for their supplies to run out. Once the food was gone, starvation would claim them all.
"We've lost, haven't we?" Midnight Nurse's voice cracked as she cradled Dagger's unconscious form. "Before, we at least had Tandy to light the tower at the top of the building. Now even her life force is nearly gone."
She brushed a strand of white-blonde hair from Dagger's pale face, her expression twisted with grief and exhaustion.
"Don't give up." Daredevil's words sounded hollow even to his own enhanced hearing. "We still have friends out there, beyond the Dark Dimension. They're working to free us."
"It's been a year, Matt." Midnight Nurse's use of his real name carried the weight of resignation. "A full year with absolutely no contact, no sign of rescue. You know better than anyone what that means."
The unspoken truth hung between them. The heroes had lost. Hydra had won. Their old allies were either dead or too busy fighting their own battles to mount a rescue operation.
"How long can our remaining food last?" she asked quietly.
Before Daredevil could answer, his radar sense picked up approaching vehicles. The rumble of engines, the squeal of tires on broken asphalt, growing closer. Multiple vans, moving with aggressive purpose.
The lead vehicle's brakes screamed as it fishtailed to a stop, leaving deep black marks on the fractured road.
A mountain of a man emerged from the passenger side, his massive frame encased in an immaculate white suit that somehow remained pristine despite the apocalyptic surroundings. Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime, descended like royalty surveying his domain.
Daredevil's entire body tensed, his billy clubs sliding into his hands. Beside him, Midnight Nurse instinctively pulled Dagger closer.
"Kingpin!" Matt's voice carried equal parts warning and disbelief.
"Don't get me wrong, Murdock." Fisk's rumbling baritone held an edge of amusement. He raised one massive hand in a placating gesture, waving off his mercenaries who had begun to fan out. "I'm not here to start trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact."
The rear doors of several cargo vans swung open. Fisk's men began unloading wooden crates, the smell of preserved food drifting through the stagnant air.
"I'm here to deliver supplies." Kingpin's smile was all teeth, predatory even in charity. "For you, for the refugees, for anyone who needs it. You're not going to turn away food for starving people, are you, Daredevil?"
"Since when did Wilson Fisk develop a conscience?"
"Oh, I haven't." Kingpin's honesty was almost refreshing in its brazenness. "But I have developed vision."
He gestured expansively at the darkened cityscape around them. "I'm going to make sure every person in this godforsaken prison remembers who kept them alive when hope died. When we finally get out of here, and we will, they'll remember that Wilson Fisk saved their lives. They'll crown me king of this city, Murdock. Not through fear this time, but through gratitude."
An open conspiracy, laid bare without shame.
Even knowing Fisk's ulterior motives, what could Daredevil do? Refuse food for thousands of starving refugees because of the donor's character? Stop a criminal from performing acts of charity?
"You seem awfully confident we'll escape." Matt's voice was hard. "What if we never get out? Your grand political plan dies here in the dark, and you'll have shortened your own survival time by distributing your supplies."
"Then we all die anyway." Kingpin shrugged his massive shoulders. "What's the difference between dying now or dying later if the end result is the same?"
Daredevil wanted to point out that Kingpin would likely be the last man standing even in that scenario. The crime lord hadn't built his empire by being careless with resources. Those crates he was distributing? Probably represented a fraction of his true stockpile.
But for now, all Matt could do was pray that Fisk's arrogant plan actually succeeded. Because if Wilson Fisk thought they'd eventually escape, maybe that confidence was based on something more than mere ego.
The darkness rippled.
Daredevil's head snapped toward the distortion, his enhanced senses detecting the telltale signature of dimensional magic. Reality tore like fabric, and a figure stumbled through the opening.
Doctor Stephen Strange collapsed against a nearby wall, his crimson Cloak of Levitation hanging limply around his shoulders. The sorcerer looked like death warmed over, gaunt and pale as a vampire, but his eyes... his eyes burned with desperate hope.
"Strange?" Daredevil's surprise was genuine.
"I found it." Strange's voice was barely above a whisper, raspy with exhaustion. "A spell. A way out."
"You're serious?" Midnight Nurse straightened, careful not to jostle Dagger. "You actually found a way to break through the dimensional barrier?"
Luke Cage's voice dripped with skepticism. "And you're sure it'll work? Because you don't exactly inspire confidence right now, doc. No offense, but you look like you're about to keel over."
"I can't be certain." Strange admitted, sliding down the wall until he sat on the filthy ground. "I crossed into multiple dimensions, used my Sanctum Sanctorum itself as collateral to obtain this spell from a... a trader in mystical knowledge. Whether it works or not..." He shook his head. "We have to try."
"That doesn't sound promising," Luke muttered. "Sounds like you got swindled by some interdimensional snake oil salesman."
"We have to try," Strange repeated, more firmly this time. His gaze swept across the gathered heroes. "But I need help. My magical reserves are nearly depleted. I can't cast a spell of this magnitude alone."
His attention fixed on two figures. "Cloak. Dagger. I need your abilities. Your teleportation and your light energy."
Tandy Bowen had only just regained consciousness moments before, her face still deathly pale. Midnight Nurse immediately moved to block Strange's approach.
"Absolutely not. Look at her. Tandy's barely alive. If you drain any more of her life force, it could kill her."
"I'll do it." Dagger's voice was weak but determined. She pushed the Midnight Nurse's protective hands away, forcing herself to stand on trembling legs. "We don't have a choice. Let's begin, Doctor."
A figure detached itself from the shadows. Cloak, whose civilian name was Tyrone Johnson, stepped forward. Where he had once been a young African-American man, he now appeared as something else entirely. The darkness had changed him, transformed his body into a living gateway to the Dark Dimension itself. Beneath his swirling cloak was nothing but void, a pitch-black shadow that seemed to devour light.
Under normal circumstances, Cloak and Dagger could have escaped this prison easily. Their powers were specifically designed for dimensional travel. But Madam Hydra had been thorough. She'd sealed every teleportation vector with binding spells, neutralizing their natural abilities.
"I'll give everything I have," Cloak said, his voice echoing as though from a great distance.
"Both of you, position yourselves at my sides."
Doctor Strange settled into a cross-legged meditation pose, his hands forming intricate gestures. Dagger took position to his left, Cloak to his right, forming a triangle of power. Mystical energy began to flow between them like golden chains, linking their essences together.
Strange's lips moved rapidly, speaking words in languages older than human civilization.
"Ahhh!" Dagger's scream tore through the air within minutes.
The sensation was horrifying. Like having her very soul siphoned away, her life force draining in great torrents into Strange's spell matrix. It felt like dying, slowly and agonizingly.
"Strange!" Midnight Nurse shouted. "You're killing her!"
"Don't... interrupt... the incantation!" Each word came through gritted teeth as sweat poured down Strange's face.
The magical array expanded outward, golden light spreading to encompass everyone within range. For one beautiful moment, hope bloomed in Luke Cage's chest, his scarred face breaking into a smile—
And then the light died.
The spell collapsed like a house of cards, mystic energy dissipating into nothing. They were plunged back into suffocating darkness.
Thump.
Dagger's body dropped from midair, unconscious before she hit the ground. Midnight Nurse caught her, checking frantically for a pulse.
The spell had failed.
Doctor Strange knelt there, stunned, unable to tell if the spell itself was flawed or if they simply hadn't provided enough power. Either way, their last hope had just shattered.
"Damn it." His voice broke. "That bastard conned me. That magic broker traded me a worthless spell in exchange for my Sanctum. My home. Everything I had..."
"Wait." Cloak's voice suddenly took on a strange quality, strangled and confused. "Something's... wrong."
He clutched at his shadowy midsection, his non-corporeal form beginning to twist and distort as though something was moving inside him.
"What the hell?" Luke Cage took a step back.
Cloak's body convulsed violently, bulging and contracting like a sack filled with a wild animal. Something was definitely inside him, something alive and desperate to get out.
"Oh god," Midnight Nurse breathed.
SHHRRRIIIIP!
With a sound like tearing fabric, Cloak's intangible darkness was pierced by something solid. A blade... no, a claw, scythe-like and wickedly sharp, erupted from his torso.
Then, as everyone watched in mounting horror, a figure pulled itself free from Cloak's body like a grotesque birth. It was humanoid, but wrong. Its head hung upside-down, attached to the neck at an impossible angle. Translucent and spectral, it drifted upward, freed from its dimensional prison.
"What... the..." Luke Cage's voice trailed off.
"It came... out of him?" Midnight Nurse looked like she might be sick.
Ghostfreak floated before them, his inverted head slowly rotating to survey his surroundings with that single, massive eye. When he spoke, his voice carried Ben Parker's consciousness, filtered through alien vocal cords.
"Well," Ghostfreak said dryly, his eye fixed on the stunned heroes. "That was deeply unpleasant for everyone involved."