Spider-Man: The King in Black – Part 3

What Remains of the Avengers

In the hollowed-out remains of the old Avengers Tower, silence hung like a heavy shroud. New York had changed, but the tower still stood, its structure worn and battered—a monument to a time when heroes walked openly, united. But now, only two figures occupied the vast emptiness, their presence both somber and defiant.

Bruce Banner sat alone in the corner, eyes closed, his breathing controlled. He had learned over the years how to calm the rage inside, to keep the Hulk at bay when he could, but the monster was always there, lurking, simmering with anger he couldn't extinguish. After all, it was his rage that kept him alive, that made death an impossibility.

Across the room, Thor sat on a battered chair, his mighty hammer Mjolnir lying by his side. The God of Thunder's once golden hair was streaked with grey, his armor cracked and tarnished from endless battles. Yet, his eyes still held that spark—defiant, resilient. They'd both lived through more than most could imagine, and here they were, bearing witness to what was left of the world they once protected.

Bruce's eyes opened, his voice quiet but hard. "It's getting worse, you know."

Thor looked over, nodding solemnly. "Aye. The darkness grows. It swallows everything." He paused, glancing at Mjolnir, almost lost in thought. "It even threatens to consume old friends."

Bruce's jaw tightened. "You're talking about him. Peter."

Thor nodded. "The Spider. He was strong once, a good man. But Knull's influence is a poison that seeps into the soul, twisting even the purest of hearts."

Bruce gave a low, bitter chuckle. "Strong. Yeah. We're all strong, but look where that got us."

The silence stretched between them, the weight of old battles and even older regrets pressing down. Thor's hand tightened around Mjolnir's handle, his expression grim.

"There was a time," Thor murmured, "when I thought we could conquer anything. We faced gods, monsters, forces beyond mortal comprehension. And yet, now I find myself wondering… did we simply delay the inevitable?"

Bruce turned, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "Are you saying the great Thor is starting to doubt?"

Thor shook his head, his gaze steely. "Nay. Not doubt. Reflection. This endless fight has cost us much, but I would see it through to the end if it meant there was still hope."

Bruce sighed, leaning back. "Hope. I think that died with the others. We're all that's left. Just you, me… and a city filled with shadows."

Thor's eyes flickered, and he studied Bruce intently. "Yet you remain, old friend. The rage within you burns too brightly to be quenched, and that is a weapon in itself. Perhaps, there is still purpose in it."

Bruce's face tightened, his tone bitter. "Purpose? My purpose was to protect. To fight for something bigger than myself." He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. "Now it feels like I'm fighting because it's all I know how to do."

Thor fell silent, a look of understanding in his eyes. Then, he spoke, his voice softer. "Aye, and yet, we do it. We carry on because we must."

Bruce scoffed, though there was no humor in it. "So, what? We just wait here, hiding in a building that's nothing but a shell of what it used to be?"

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. "We wait, yes. But not to hide. We wait for him."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You think Peter's going to come after us?"

Thor met his gaze, resolute. "If Knull has him, then it is only a matter of time. The darkness will bring him here, drawn to what remains of the Avengers. And when he comes…" He looked down at his hammer, a steely glint in his eye. "We will be ready."

Bruce let out a sigh, almost defeated. "We've fought friends before, but this is different, Thor. Peter's lost everything. And now, he's got Knull's power fueling him. We might be… I mean, it might be impossible to save him."

Thor leaned forward, his gaze hard. "Perhaps. But I will not abandon him to the darkness without a fight. We owe him that much, don't we?"

Bruce was quiet for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Yeah. I guess we do."

They sat in silence again, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on them both. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and Bruce could have sworn he saw Thor's fingers twitch, almost instinctively.

"Do you think we can win?" Bruce asked quietly.

Thor's voice was steady, unwavering. "I do not know, old friend. But I do know this: I would rather face the end fighting beside you than fade into darkness without raising my hand."

Bruce managed a small, grim smile. "You always did have a flair for speeches."

Thor chuckled, the sound deep and hearty. "And you always did bring me back down to earth."

They shared a moment of camaraderie, a brief flash of what had once united them. And though the future loomed dark, for that one moment, they felt the strength that had once defined the Avengers.

In the distance, the city lights flickered, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. A shadow passed through the streets, moving closer.

It wouldn't be long now.