Sowhere deep within a S.W.O.R.D. base... A sudden swirl of green mist materialized out of nowhere. When the smoke dispersed, Baron Zemo an
Sowhere deep within a S.W.O.R.D. base...
A sudden swirl of green mist materialized out of nowhere. When the smoke dispersed, Baron Zemo and his villainous entourage stood inside the facility.
The massive doors were tightly shut behind them.
Not a single soul in sight.
Only the constant hum of ventilation fans echoed throughout the silent corridors. Dim white lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across the tal floors. The entire place felt less like a headquarters and more like... a trap. A cage built specifically for unwelco guests like them.
Zemo could feel it deep in his bones—from the mont he stepped foot in the base, unease gripped him like a vice. His instincts scread danger.
"I don’t sense any signs of life," Amora said, frowning. "There’s a faint magical barrier in place... It’s like we’ve walked straight into a trap."
All eyes turned to Eddie Brock.
After all, he was the one who had provided the intel. He had brought them here.
"There’s no mistake," Venom growled, his voice deep and monstrous. "This is S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters. Our boss, Gene, is into magic too. It’s totally normal for a place like this to have enchantnts. And high alert? That’s just standard protocol, right?"
"Then why don’t you explain to what the hell this place really is?" Zemo’s voice dropped into a deadly calm. "We ca here to strike, not to wander around an empty base."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you doubting Venom?" the symbiote sneered, his inky black mass twitching. "Maybe everyone’s just... out on mission. Or taking a vacation. Or chilling in their rooms. Y’know—this place is run by an AI. Totally automated. Nothing strange at all."
He chuckled nervously.
"...Or maybe they all went out for dinner? Hahaha..."
Zemo narrowed his eyes.
"You’re playing for a fool?"
"What’s that supposed to an?" Amora cut in, arms crossed. "Are you saying you don’t trust ? No man has ever resisted my enchantnts."
A golden staff materialized in Zemo’s hand, and he aid its glowing tip directly at Venom’s face.
"Let’s not get violent!" Venom raised his hands quickly. "Hey, hey, we had a deal, rember?"
Zemo’s eyes went ice-cold.
"You’re not Venom. Who the hell are you? Where’s the real Eddie?"
Before the staff could strike, SMACK—Zemo’s hand was knocked away by none other than Dr. Lizard.
"What are you doing?" Zemo snapped.
But Lizard’s eyes now glowed with black energy. And from his mouth ca a voice that didn’t belong to him:
"Nobody gets to bully Eddie... except ."
It wasn’t Dr. Lizard.
It was Venom.
"Thanks for the backup, pal—wait, what’d you just say?" Eddie muttered, catching up.
"What the hell is going on?" Amora demanded, anger flaring. "How did he escape my control?!"
"Well, enchantress," Eddie said, patting Lizard’s shoulder, "maybe you’re just not his type. Or maybe... Venom prefers alien queens to human girls."
A writhing mass of black sli oozed out of Lizard’s body and slithered back into Eddie’s arm.
"Venom doesn’t like Earth won," ca the gravelly voice in Eddie’s head. "Venom wants to eat her pretty little head."
Lizard collapsed, lifeless, on the floor—his fate uncertain.
"Alright, buddy. Your turn," Eddie muttered.
The symbiote exploded out of his skin, wrapping his body in black armor. Claws snapped into place. His jaw split wide open into a monstrous maw, strings of sli dangling from his fanged tongue.
Venom had returned.
"Take him down!" Zemo roared, pointing his staff at the beast.
"With pleasure." Living Laser glanced at Taskmaster. "Well, boss gave the order—who’s going in first?"
Taskmaster imdiately stepped aside.
"Not . I’m out. Whatever this is—it’s not my problem."
"What did you just say?" Zemo’s gaze snapped to him like a blade. "Are you betraying too?"
Taskmaster shrugged casually.
"Honestly? I was never that interested in your grand plan to begin with. I only signed up for the paycheck. But soone offered a much bigger one. One you can’t even hope to match."
"I always thought world-class rcenaries had so professional ethics," Zemo said icily.
"Oh, I do. Usually. But everyone has a price. And what I was offered?" Taskmaster smiled. "It was a number so high even your precious principles would start to feel negotiable."
Zemo clenched his jaw so hard it almost cracked.
The battle hadn’t even started, and two of his own had already betrayed him. One was down. The other—gone rogue.
He wanted to kill them. Slice off their heads and kick them like footballs.
But logic took over.
This was not the ti for revenge. His situation had beco dire. He needed to escape.
"We’re not fighting," Zemo muttered.
"Wait, we’re not?" growled Abomination, cracking his knuckles.
"We’re retreating. Now. Amora—what are you waiting for?!"
"Ugh! You idiot!" Amora snapped, furious. "I told you! This whole place is under a magical barrier—I can’t teleport us out! It’s your stupid plan that got us stuck here!"
Then—
A voice echoed from above. Cold. Synthetic. Filled with nace.
"Why so eager to leave?"
A black armored figure descended from the shadows, landing in front of them with a tallic thud. The scarlet V-shaped visor on his helt glowed ominously.
Gene Mason. The Black Devil.
"The show’s just getting started."
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