The Stark Tower atrium was all glass, open space, and light—until it wasn't. A black mass slammed into Tony mid-flight, hitting like a wrecking ball made of writhing snakes. He fired his repulsors point-blank, the beams cutting bright arcs. The mass just flowed around them, thickening again, undeterred.
"Friday," Tony grunted, twisting in the air to dodge another surge, "lock all fire doors. Vent nothing."
"Working," Friday replied, voice steady. "Warning: service core compromised."
Elevator doors buckled with a groan. Black tendrils pushed through the gaps, probing the Tower like fingers rummaging through a pocket. They slithered across the floor, testing, searching.
Tony rocketed higher, drawing the mass upward. "Come on, you creepy blob," he said. "Eyes on me."
It didn't have eyes, but it looked. "HELLO, ANTHONY," it said, the voice wrong, like a chorus of mouths speaking out of sync.
"That's super creepy," Tony muttered, dumping chaff from his suit. The mass devoured it like a snack, barely slowing.
He veered toward the stairwell, blasting a hole through a wall to clear his path. He shot upward, the thing trailing close behind, a living shadow that wouldn't quit.
On the street below, Spider-Man and Natasha watched smoke rise in thin lines from the substation yard, now quiet after their charges had done their job. Spidey tilted his head, mask crinkling. "You think Tony's okay up there? That looked like a lot of evil goo."
Natasha's mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "He's Stark. He'll either win or make a very expensive mess. Probably both."
"Super comforting, Nat," Spidey said, webbing a stray piece of debris to the ground. "Should we head up to help?"
"Not yet," she said, scanning the yard for any lingering nanites. "He'll call if he needs us. Focus on keeping this place locked down."
Two miles away, Rex and Cap sprinted across rooftops, leaping gaps between buildings. Rex's legs burned, his breath coming in sharp gasps, but he kept pace. Cap moved like it was a morning jog, his stride steady, shield strapped to his back.
"You always this intense?" Rex asked between breaths, dodging a vent pipe.
Cap glanced over, not breaking stride. "Worse in the forties. War didn't give us much choice."
Rex snorted, despite the ache in his chest. "Okay, fair." He pointed ahead to a squat brick building surrounded by a chain-link fence. "That's the next one. Substation hub."
Cap squinted, assessing it. "You sure that's the spot?"
"Yeah," Rex said, slowing slightly. "I can feel it. Like a hum in my bones."
They dropped into the yard, boots hitting concrete. A single steel door led into a control room packed with old switches and humming panels. Two techs crouched behind a desk, eyes wide with panic.
"Out," Cap ordered, pointing to the exit. "Go, now."
The techs scrambled out, nearly tripping over each other.
Rex strode to the room's center and slapped his hand on the main panel. He felt Van Kleiss's command running through it, a low, ugly pattern that twisted other systems to obey. "It's like a bad song," he muttered, pushing back with his nanites. Orange light flared, spreading through the panel's seams. The wrong pattern stopped, silenced.
Cap tilted his head, like he'd heard a distant snap. "That did it," he said. "Good work."
"For this hub," Rex said, pulling his hand back. He stared at the ceiling, wishing he could sense the whole city at once. "There's more out there. I can't reach it all."
Tony's voice crackled over the comms, strained but sharp, like he was laughing through gritted teeth. "Little busy here, guys. The atrium's a Jackson Pollock painting made of pure hate."
"Need backup?" Cap asked, already moving toward the door.
"No," Tony said, then paused. "Okay, yes. Send the kid. He's got the magic touch."
Rex glanced at Cap, who nodded. "Go. I'll hold this substation."
Spider-Man swung in from the street, landing lightly and offering a hand. "Need a taxi, Rex?"
Rex grabbed his wrist, smirking despite himself. "Never call me a fare, web-head."
They launched, Spidey's webs pulling them toward Stark Tower. Wind tore past, swallowing their words. The Tower loomed, a bright spike in the skyline. A window on the fortieth floor exploded outward, a black arm of nanites spilling into the air like ink.
"Fun times," Spidey said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Your definition of fun is broken," Rex shot back, gripping tighter as they swung.
They hit the atrium just as Tony slammed into a marble column, the impact cracking stone. He bounced, rolled, and staggered up, groaning. "Hey, kid," he said to Rex, forcing a casual tone. "Your pal is ugly."
"Not my pal," Rex said, stepping forward. He retracted his machine-arms, holding both hands up, empty. He faced the black mass, staring into its shifting form. "I know you," he said, voice steady. "You're not him. You're just his shadow, doing his dirty work."
The mass tilted, like a dog catching a strange sound.
Rex pressed his palm against it. The thing screamed without sound, a silent wail that vibrated the air. Orange light poured from Rex's hand, spreading like fire through dry grass. The mass writhed, tried to flee, but had nowhere to go. It burned away in curls of ash, collapsing into nothing.
Tony watched his HUD settle, the readings calming. He exhaled, hands shaking until he hid them by pointing at the ceiling. "Nice trick, kid. But we're not done. He's aiming bigger."
"How big?" Spider-Man asked, webbing a stray tendril to the floor.
Friday's voice cut in, sharp. "Citywide pulse detected building at Con Edison 6, Times Square feeder. Estimated discharge: catastrophic."
Rex froze, his mind tracing a map. Plant. Substation. Feeder. Times Square. Crowds. Billboards. Power. "He's going to open a door," he said, the words spilling out before he fully understood them. "Like in Queens. He'll rip the sky open again and feed it with the grid."
Tony stared at him for a beat, seeing a kid, a weapon, a chance. "Then we close it," he said. "Suit up, everyone. We're moving."
He blasted through the hole he'd made in the wall, repulsors roaring. Spider-Man swung after him, webs snapping taut. Rex bent his knees and leaped, hitting the next rooftop like the ground had personally offended him.
Times Square pulsed on the horizon, its lights flashing like a heartbeat. As they crested 42nd Street, the sky above the square split open, a jagged wound of purple light stretching from billboard to billboard. The first EVOs dropped through, their twisted forms hitting the pavement with sickening thuds.