"How can I get this thing off of me?" Spider-Man paced back and forth across the opulent, if somewhat intimidating, throne room of Castle Doom, his movements a frantic, jerky ballet of anxiety. He muttered to himself, his head whipping from side to side as if arguing with an unseen entity. "If I don't get this thing off of me, May and MJ would freak out. And I mean freak out, capital F."
He stopped, his body tensing. "Shut up. They aren't food. They are family." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "No, you can't eat humans. Or their brains. What do you mean, 'what about dead human brains?' Where do you even get thoughts like this? That's necrophagy! And it's disgusting! No, you can't do that."
He jumped, startled by a thought that clearly wasn't his own, and scrambled away from an empty section of the room. "What? No, that's even more absurd! What do you mean you want to start a brain farm?" He shuddered violently. "What do you mean human brains taste like watered-down chocolate wrapped in pig fat? No! Don't you dare transmit me the taste of—" He gagged, a wet, retching sound, and leaned heavily against a cold stone pillar, his knuckles white.
It took a long moment, but he finally pushed himself upright, looking pale even through the fabric of his mask. "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat pork again. Or chocolate. Thanks for that." He resumed his frantic pacing. "Can't you, you know, eat human foods? Like hotdogs. They're cheap. I could get you, like, ten hotdogs after I get my pocket money from May. Or." he brightened with a desperate idea, "I could ask Dr. Doom to prepare food for you! He's a king, he must have amazing chefs! Try some, and you might even like it! It's probably better than… brains." He was lost in his one-sided, increasingly bizarre negotiation when a new voice cut through his internal chaos.
"Whoa there, kid. You look a little pale." The voice was calm, familiar, laced with an undercurrent of amused authority. "It almost looks like you've seen a frozen dragon, or you are currently being possessed by a symbiotic organism, or perhaps both at once."
"Mr. Ranger!" Spider-Man jumped, a surge of relief washing over him. He started to rush forward, but his body froze mid-stride, pulling back as if tethered by an invisible leash. He fought against it, his muscles straining. "Venom, what are you doing? Let me go! He's friendly! He won't harm us!"
"Is he the one?" A deep, resonant voice, like the rumble of distant thunder, interjected from the dais. Thor, the All-Father, had risen from his temporary observation post, Mjolnir held loosely in his hand. "Is this the one you wished for the Enigma Force to meet, Ranger? A mere child, with extraordinary power, he may be. But bonded with that… that spawn of Knull… he will not be accepted. The Force will reject him."
"Is that the Thor?! The God of Thunder?" Spider-Man's voice rose to a high-pitched squeak of pure fanboy excitement. "You give me back control of my body right now! I need his autograph! He's an OG Avenger! People say he's the strongest there is!" He huffed and puffed, managing to take a single, strained step forward before a mass of inky black tendrils erupted from his suit, yanking him back with surprising force. "What? Thor or Ranger won't hurt us! They're both superheroes!"
Ranger watched, his expression unreadable, as the black tendrils snaked up and clamped over Spider-Man's mouth, muffling his protests. "While I do believe he is worthy." Ranger said, his voice carrying an unwavering conviction that seemed to surprise even Thor, "more worthy than anyone I have ever known, and perhaps will ever know, for the power of the Enigma Force or any power… he is, for the purposes of this particular journey, merely baggage. I am taking him to expand his horizons. To show him a universe beyond his friendly neighborhood."
Ranger walked forward, his steps unhurried, as the symbiote's tendrils lashed out, trying to ensnare him. He moved with a fluid, almost contemptuous grace, dodging left and right, the grasping black appendages meeting only empty air. He stopped directly in front of Spider-Man.
"Mr. Ranger! I didn't attack you! It's this… this symbiotic parasite in me that's attacking you!" Spider-Man's muffled voice was thick with panic. "Can't you see? He's a good guy! He won't hurt us!" he pleaded with the parasite.
Ranger just smiled, effortlessly leaning back to avoid another tendril that tried to wrap around his neck. "Mr. Ranger, can you please step back? I don't want to hurt you." Peter pleaded, his voice desperate. "Dr. Doom told me he will find a cure for this symbiote! Just give him time!"
Ranger didn't say anything. He simply raised one hand, his fingers held in a precise, almost surgical configuration. Spider-Man shivered, his masked lenses widening to their absolute limit as his spider-sense screamed, a piercing, painful shriek in his mind that warned of imminent, overwhelming danger. "Mr. Ranger… whatever you are thinking of doing… please don't."
"Why, Peter?" Ranger asked, his voice soft, almost gentle. His fingertips began to glow, a brilliant, incandescent blue as Turbo energy accumulated within them. "Does your sense tell you what I am about to do will harm you?"
And then, he snapped his fingers.
The sound was not loud in the conventional sense. It was a perfect, resonant frequency, a sonic shockwave so pure and powerful that it shattered the very air in the throne room. Ornate tapestries ripped from the walls, stone carvings cracked and crumbled, and reinforced plasteel windows exploded outwards into the Latverian night. Thor, wreathed in his own divine energy, merely shrugged off the assault, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. But for Peter and the symbiote, it was agony.
Peter collapsed, clutching his ears, screaming as the sound tore through him. The symbiote shrieked louder, black goo peeling off his skin in wild, spasming coils. It fought to stay bonded—but the frequency was too pure, too targeted. It fled. Ranger reached out and tore it away with a final, wet squelch.
The inky black mass of the symbiote writhed on the floor, attempting to re-form, to lash out. In desperation, it tried to bond with Ranger, surging towards his leg, but the ambient Turbo energy around him acted as a repellent, making it sizzle and recoil in pain.
"The Human called Ranger." the symbiote's voice hissed, a chorus of telepathic whispers in the room. "Let me bond with the boy. Let us go, and we shall never cross your path again. I will give you knowledge. All the information in my hive mind. The secrets of us symbiotes. The history of the cosmos. It can all be yours." The offer was tempting, a treasure trove of cosmic lore.
"Venom, is it not?" Ranger said, his voice laced with a dry amusement. "I would love to continue our discussion, but there are far more pressing matters to be dealt with." He turned away, and with a wave of his hand, a cage of pure, crackling Turbo energy formed around the struggling symbiote, preventing its escape. "So, sit tight for a minute or so."
As if on cue, the grand doors to the room swung open. Doctor Doom entered, flanked by an entourage of silent, gleaming Doombots and a retinue of elegantly attired female attendants. The Doombots moved with silent efficiency, rolling out crimson carpets over the debris-strewn floor. One raised a hand, and with a shimmer of green arcane energy, the shattered windows repaired themselves, the broken stone flowed back into place, the room restoring itself to its previous pristine state. Two other Doombots carefully placed the unconscious, now-unmasked Peter Parker onto a hovering stretcher and carried him from the room, while Ranger simply stood to the side, an impassive observer.
Doom strode to the center of the hall, his presence commanding absolute authority. "Thor, son of Odin, the now All-Father of New Asgard." Doom declared, his voice a resonant baritone that filled the chamber. "Doom welcomes you to Latveria."
Two of the female attendants stepped forward, their movements a graceful, practiced ballet. They approached Thor, one carrying a silver ewer filled with what smelled like the finest Asgardian mead, the other a ceremonial gilded horn. Thor, a being who generally despised such formal customs and rituals, held his tongue. He knew better than to disrespect a king in his own kingdom, especially a king as powerful and prideful as Doom. He allowed the attendants to perform the traditional Latverian welcome for a visiting monarch, accepting the horn, his expression stoic.
Once the welcome was concluded, three thrones, forged from the same dark, gleaming metal as Doom's armor, and a single, round table of polished obsidian rose silently from the floor. Doom's throne was higher than the other two. The female attendants and the Doombots bowed as one, then retreated from the room, leaving the three figures—and the caged symbiote—alone.
Doom sat first, a monarch taking his rightful place. Thor, after a moment's hesitation, took the throne to Doom's right. Ranger, with a faint smirk, took the last. He placed the crackling cage containing Venom on the center of the table.
The table lit up, and from its smooth surface, three ornate wine jugs, one of black iron, one of Asgardian gold, and one of a shifting, futuristic alloy, materialized. They poured their respective contents into three cups, which then glided smoothly to each of the seated figures.
Thor, ever direct, drank his cup in one go, the rich liquid doing little to soothe the question burning within him. "Why?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his gaze fixing on Ranger. "Why do you seek the Enigma Force?" The question, imbued with the All-Father's power, seemed to make the very air vibrate. The Venom symbiote shivered in its cage, thrashing against the Turbo-charged bars, even though the contact made it burn.
"Now, now, Venom. Patience." Ranger consoled the creature with a condescending pat on its cage. He then turned to Thor. "I could give you the grand, cosmic reason, a tale of multiversal balance and existential threats that would likely bore you to tears. Or." his lips curled into a grin, "I could give you a reason you might find more… palatable. Which would you prefer to hear, Thor?"
Thor looked from Ranger's enigmatic face to the cowering symbiote, then his gaze shifted to the impassive mask of the third man at the table. "Doom." Thor asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his own kingship, "What reason will you provide to me?"
"Doom shall provide you a simple one." Doom replied, his voice a cold, metallic finality. "We seek the Enigma Force to kill the King in Black."
The words, stark and absolute, hung in the air. Even the Venom symbiote, the spawn of Knull himself, stopped its frantic movements, freezing in its cage as if struck by a bolt of cosmic ice.
"The King in Black?" Thor repeated, his own expression turning grim. "You speak madness." he retorted, his gaze sweeping from Ranger to Doom, "You seek an audience with the God of Light herself. A perilous aim… even for kings. For you seek the light to kill the darkness? But pray tell, who among you will be granted such a power? Aside from the boy you have brought, none here are worthy. Even then the boy is tainted with Knull spawn incapable of being favored by the Enigma Force."
"Heed my warning. It shall not be spoken twice. The Enigma Force is not a weapon to be wielded by mortals no matter how grand the ambitions." Thor reminded once more.
"Odinson." Doom stated, his voice devoid of any doubt, "Doom's ambitions are immutable. It is not for false gods, nor kings, to question the will of Doom. It is not for you to concern yourself with. Your task is simple, Odinson: deliver us to the Enigma Force. Once it is done, your reward shall be the memento of your brother — as promised."