Battleworld
ARC EIGHT · SECRET WARS, PART 1. Doom won. He stitched the dead universes into one patchwork planet. Without the suit, Zachary doesn't even survive the air.
Zachary woke up on a cliff that used to be Brooklyn. The bricks were right. The sky was wrong. Two suns. Air thinner than 110th and Broadway in August.
"Suit. Tell me you're still on. Tell me you're still — *cough* — still here."
"ssssilva. we are the only reason your lungs still work. breathe slow. we filter."
Doom ruled from a castle that had eaten the Empire State Building. He called himself God Emperor. Most of the survivors agreed, because the alternative was being unstitched.
"Kid. Hair's bigger than I remember. Suit's darker than I'd like. You still you in there?"
"Still Silva. The suit's just the lungs. We got a plan?"
"One. We find what's left of the Beyonder's power inside Doom. We pull it out. We rebuild reality from the seams. We need somebody who can survive every climate on this planet to carry the relic to the castle."
Every head in the room turned to the Shadow Spider. The suit purred. For once — Zachary purred back.
TO BE CONTINUED IN ISSUE #18 — LAST STAND OF THE SHADOW SPIDER.