Chapter Text
It began with two men. One, the infamous Victor von Doom, ruler of Latveria, a man of cold intellect and iron will, master of both sorcery and science. The other, also Victor von Doom, but from the year 2099—sent to it against his will and remade himself into a different image. He became a warrior, a hero of his own right, reforging his legacy in a world not his own.
They both sought to control time, and by their own genius broke time itself.
It was inevitable. Ironic, really. In their arrogance, they assumed they would be the only one to even attempt to control something that should never have been touched. Neither knew of the other’s experiment—because how could they? Neither could imagine someone else attempting the same steps they did. Neither could foresaw that, by some cruel stroke of fate, both their machines would fail at the same instant.
The event would come to be known as the Timestream Entanglement, a cataclysm in which the fabric of reality knotted, past and future collapsing upon one another. Entire timelines bled together in chaotic fusion, histories rewritten with no logic, no order.
Some sought to mend the rupture, to pull time back into its proper place before the damage became irreversible. Others fought to contain the chaos, to prevent the chronoverse from unraveling further.
And then there were those who saw opportunity in disorder.
T’Challa expanded his empire to the galaxies. (Honestly, good for him.)
Loki formed an alliance with Hela to take over Asgard. Technically now named Yggsgard, but that was a story for another time.
Dracula set his eyes on New York City—a long way from Transylvania.
He had gotten his stiletto-clawed hands on some Chronovium—shards of pure time, a side product from the Dooms’ machinations—and used its power to drown the entire city in an eternal night, unleashing his army of undead upon its citizens.
Reed Richards and Tony Stark attempted to find a solution to this problem together. Key word: attempted.
Tony was a pragmatic man, a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of guy, and opted that their best course of action was to simply… destroy all the vampires. It wouldn’t be hard—they just needed to find the missing page of the Darkhold, an ancient tome of black magic that held the Montesi Formula. One quick incantation later, and all vampires would be nothing but a pile of dust. Which included the innocent ones, the civilians forced to transform, the ones conscripted into Dracula’s army against their will.
And, well… Reed vehemently disagreed with the idea.
An argument ensued. One side insisted that they needed to mitigate as much damage as possible before things got worse—to deal with the root cause head on. The other claimed that they could find a way to save those that were harmed by the vampiric curse as well as the city.
These two sides could not co-exist.
And so, Tony left with a huff, to finish this his own way. Those that agreed with him followed, determined to locate the coveted missing piece of the Darkhold.
The rest of the heroes that remained needed to find the page too, if anything but to prevent it from falling into Tony’s hands. They also needed to find Doctor Strange, who was trapped in the Entangled Astral Plane. He was their only chance of deriving a different incantation of the formula, to transform it into another spell that could possibly solve this without sacrificing thousands of civilians.
And the longer they waited, the more people joined Dracula’s army.
Central Park was unrecognizable. Once a peaceful pocket of green within the endless sprawl of the city, it had become a battlefield choked by the stench of blood and damp earth. The grass was torn up in long gashes, trees splintered from the sheer force of bodies being hurled against them. A thin mist slithered through the air, clinging to the ruined landscape.
There was also a giant castle in the middle of it all now, teeming with Dracula’s minions. The vampires were everywhere, bathed in the Blood Moon that hung in the sky.
Creatures of raw, feral hunger, grotesque distortions of the humans they once were littered the streets. They moved like bats, but also like wolves, crawling on all fours with talons that sank deep into bark, stone, and flesh.
When they weren’t biting, their lips curled back in an almost pleading snarl, hissing at everyone that came across their path. Gone was the rationality in their eyes, instead only pits of red hunger stared back—their minds lost to the primal need to do their master’s bidding.
Squirrel Girl was in the thick of it, her slingshot twanging with pinpoint precision. Thunk! A carefully aimed acorn to the temple knocked a vampire out cold. Whack! Another sent one tumbling into the tangled roots of an upturned tree. She fought with the grace of a gymnast and the wild energy of a rodent in a candy store, dodging through the chaos, her bushy tail flicking as she moved.
On her head, Tippy-Toe chittered furiously, her tiny claws gripping Doreen’s hair as she squeaked an urgent warning. Doreen barely had time to react before a blur of brown fur shot through the foliage—a scout, clad in a tiny beret and a makeshift vest.
Doreen’s eyes widened. “G.I. Guy?!”
The squirrel leapt onto her outstretched arm, a parchment clutched tightly in his teeth. She took it carefully, unfurling it with cautious hands. Her breath hitched.
The Montesi Formula.
“Holy smokes G.I. Guy! This is great—at ease, soldier!” she told her friend, who saluted sharply before retreating into the safety of the underbrush—or what was left of it—his mission complete. Doreen turned around to her fellow heroes, bouncing high to get their attention. “Hey guys! I got the Formula!”
Dagger glanced her way before knocking out a vampire with her light daggers. “That’s great! Head back to the Baxter Building, Doreen, we can handle it from here!” She tilted her head back, listening to an inaudible voice before chastising, “No, I’m not going to tell her that! What? Fine. Ty really wants you to ask your friends to stop trying to chew on his cloak.”
“Eh, I mean, I’ll try,” Doreen said, giving the duo a half-shrug. “But no promises.”
Above them, Spider-Man landed on the branch of a half-shattered oak. “I gotta hand it to you, Doreen, your little buddies are fast.”
“Of course they are,” she said proudly.
Tippy-Toe puffed out her chest, preening at the acknowledgment.
Doreen carefully tucked the parchment into the inner pocket of her bomber jacket, patting it once to make sure it was secure. But just as she exhaled, she felt it—that eerie prickle at the back of her neck. The weight of something watching.
She turned sharply.
Iron Man hovered above them, his repulsors humming softly, the faint glow casting long shadows across the ruined park. His posture was as steady as ever, the light behind his mask’s eyes gleaming cold.
“Well, this sure saved me a lot of trouble,” Tony said, voice modulated but unmistakably exasperated. He extended a gauntleted hand. “Now hand it over, Doreen.”
Doreen blinked. “Uh… no,” she said, then promptly kicked off the ground and sprang away.
Tony sighed, muttering, “I hate this part,” under his breath as he shot forward after her.
Thwip!
A sudden tangle of webbing wrapped around his arm and torso, yanking him backward mid-air.
“You really don’t want to do this, kid,” Tony warned, turning his head just enough to glare at the arachnid hero.
Spider-Man crouched there, fingers firmly gripping on the webbing to hold the other man in place. “Yeah, see, I think I do—especially considering what you plan to do with that formula.”
Tony groaned. “More people are getting hurt at this very second while we argue—”
“And more people are gonna die if you go through with this!” Peter shot back. “There’s gotta be another way!”
“We don’t have time for that!” Tony snapped.
But Doreen wasn’t around to hear the rest. She was already out of the park, her powerful legs propelling her upward as she leaped onto the side of a nearby building. She scrambled up the wall with practiced ease before bounding across the rooftops, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Whirrrrrrrr.
The sound of Tony’s repulsors roared behind her. He was going to attack.
“Oh, nuts,” she cursed.
Without stopping, she twisted in midair, plucked an acorn from her belt, and pinged it with her slingshot. The tiny projectile smacked right against Tony’s helmet with an audible clink, making him jolt just enough for Peter to swing in and web up his repulsors.
Tony spun wildly, cursing as he veered off course and slammed into the side of a billboard with a loud clang.
Doreen didn’t stop moving, didn’t even slow down—she vaulted over an air conditioning unit, using her momentum to propel herself onto the next rooftop. Peter kept pace beside her, swinging low before flipping onto the ledge, running at her speed.
“You couldn’t keep him off me for five seconds?” Doreen huffed mid-leap.
Peter clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Wow. I did my best, okay?”
Doreen landed, immediately springing off the ledge and onto the next building without breaking stride. “Yeah? Well, your best almost got me roasted!”
“Uh, rude. I literally saved your tail.”
“Yeah, well, my tail is still being chased by Iron Man.”
Behind them, Tony growled as his repulsors flared, the heat instantly burning away the tangled webbing clinging to his armor. Ash and molten strands of webbing scattered into the wind as he righted himself mid-air, the glow of his arc reactor intensifying.
“Alright, so, Plan A is keep moving,” Peter said as he flipped through the air, barely glancing back. “What’s Plan B?”
“We annoy him until he gives up?”
“...No. No, I don’t think that would work.”
“Welp, don’t say I never offered a suggestion.”
A dark mass of swirling shadows materialized in front of them.
Doreen barely skidded to the side to avoid colliding as Cloak appeared, his form stretching unnaturally against the night sky. From within the shifting void of his cloak, a figure stepped out.
Scarlet fabric. Glowing fingers crackling with wild, untamed magic.
Wanda Maximoff.
“Hey, team,” Cloak greeted casually as if he hadn’t just teleported directly into their escape route. “I brought backup.”
Doreen grinned. “Oh, nice.”
Iron Man slowed as he hovered before them, his hands raised but not firing just yet. “You know, that’s not really fair,” Tony remarked, his voice carrying a wry edge through his modulator.
Doreen gestured broadly to the very powerful witch now standing between them. “Okay, but, like, hear me out: maybe—just maybe—when this many people are against you, you’re on the wrong side? Hm? Ever thought about that? Bet you didn’t. Not because you’re not smart or anything, but because you’re so stubborn and all that—”
“Doreen.”
Peter’s voice cut through her rambling, making her blink. “Hm?”
His lenses widened.
“Run.”
Wanda didn’t need to be told twice. Her fingers snapped up, and the air shook as she sent a surge of chaos magic directly at Tony. Cloak expanded in the same breath, shadows surging forward to engulf him.
Doreen and Peter took off.
They leaped from rooftop to rooftop as the battle exploded behind them—scarlet energy clashing against repulsor beams, shadows warping and stretching as Cloak moved to entangle Tony’s every attempt at pursuit.
The duo sprinted across the final rooftop, the Baxter Building looming ahead like a beacon of hope in the ruined city. Doreen didn’t miss a beat, turning to the nearest security camera and waving wildly, grinning as she pointed at the parchment tucked safely inside her jacket. “Guess what we got?”
The force field around the building shimmered, a circular section peeling away, just big enough for them to enter, closing behind them the moment they stepped in. It was... completely quiet, an almost jarring experience compared to the noise of the battlefield.
Inside the building, H.E.R.B.I.E. floated toward them, hovering just a few inches above the ground with a faint mechanical hum. “Welcome!”
Doreen and Peter barely had time to catch their breath before H.E.R.B.I.E. tilted slightly. “Oh! You appear to be intact! That is excellent. I am obligated to remind you that you are entering a controlled environment. Please do not bring any external contaminants—such as vampire saliva, debris, or unknown chaos magic remnants—inside.”
Peter waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll wipe our feet on the mat.”
H.E.R.B.I.E.’s eyes narrowed into little rectangles. “Sarcasm detected. A poor attempt, I might add.”
Doreen patted his smooth exterior as she walked past. “Missed you too, buddy.”
The little robot’s LED cheeks briefly turned pink.
As they made their way deeper inside, they passed Susan Storm, who sat cross-legged on a floating platform, eyes closed in deep focus. The force field around the Baxter Building was her creation, and it took constant effort to keep it standing against the never-ending vampire onslaught outside. A faint shimmer of light pulsed from her fingers, responding to every attack the shield endured.
“She has been maintaining this barrier for an astonishingly long duration,” H.E.R.B.I.E. noted. “Probability of exhaustion: concerning. Probability of requesting help: low.”
Doreen and Peter exchanged glances but knew better than to disturb Sue while she worked.
Soon, they arrived at Reed Richards’ primary lab, a sprawling high-tech workspace filled with towering monitors, intricate machinery, and—most notably—a massive circular portal thrumming with energy at its center, shimmering like liquid light.
Reed was in the middle of stretching across the entire room, his elongated limbs adjusting dials, typing on a keyboard, and fine-tuning the portal’s power source all at once. The moment he noticed them, he retracted himself back into his normal shape, dusting off his suit.
“H.E.R.B.I.E. told me you found the formula?”
“Right here, Mr. F!” Doreen beamed, pulling the parchment from her jacket and handing it over.
Reed took it carefully, eyes scanning the text with deep scrutiny. “This is fantastic news.”
He paused, blinked.
Then cleared his throat. “That wasn’t even on purpose.”
Doreen snorted, while Peter grinned.
Reed quickly moved on. “We don’t have much time. I could use a hand setting this up.”
Doreen and Peter both stiffened, eyes wide.
“Wait—really?” Peter asked, practically vibrating.
“Like, actually?” Doreen added, practically vibrating more.
Reed gave them both a look, but there was a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “We’re on a tight schedule. Two brilliant young minds like yours would be a great help.”
Peter straightened up with a salute. “Say no more—”
Reed’s gaze flicked toward him, suddenly serious. “As long as you don’t get your webs into the hardware.”
Peter’s excitement deflated just slightly as he muttered, “You do it by accident one time…”
H.E.R.B.I.E. floated up beside him, his screen displaying a skeptical frown. “Correction: three times.”
Doreen clapped Peter on the back. “C’mon, Webs. We got a city to save.”
Peter suddenly flinched, the lens of his mask widening. He launched his webs towards the Darkhold page, thwipping it into his possession. As soon as it was in grasp, he shouted, “Hit the deck!”
Before anyone could react, the entire building began to rumble as giant spectral fists came crashing down from above, slamming through Sue’s force field and Baxter Building’s reinforced roof like divine judgment.
The impacts sent tremors through the entire structure, making every console, piece of furniture, and unfortunate piece of lab equipment jump from the sheer force. The glass windows, while not directly hit, couldn’t handle the strain—shattering into a thousand jagged shards from the pressure alone.
“This is so your fault,” Doreen yelled at Peter, shielding her face as she dodged a falling chunk of ceiling. She narrowly avoided another massive spectral fist as it pummeled down, carving out a new skylight in the worst way possible.
“How the hell is this my fault!” Peter balked, dodging as an enormous hand slammed into the room, obliterating a cabinet like it owed Konshu rent.
“Everyone knows your luck is shit!”
“Well guess who has to live with it 24/7?”
“Well, stop spreading it around!”
“‘S’not like I’m doing this on purpose!”
The barrage didn’t stop. The hands pounded down with terrifying force, leaving nothing on the floor unscathed. Desks, chairs, even H.E.R.B.I.E. let out a startled “Oh dear—!” before narrowly dodging a swipe that nearly sent him to the repair center. The chaos was so all-consuming that even the portal wasn’t safe, getting smacked once—twice—sparking wildly with arcs of unstable energy.
Reed moved fast, stretching his body over the device, his form absorbing the moonlit punches harmlessly like some kind of living elastic shield.
And then, just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any weirder, Dracula himself fell through one of the new skylights, being physically kicked by Moon Knight. The landing was violent as the two rolled across the destroyed floor, fists and fangs going wild in a blur of supernatural rage and very personal grievances.
“Where’s my money, you bloodsuckin’ nerd!?” Moon Knight roared, landing a savage right hook directly into Dracula’s fanged face.
Doreen, who had spent the most of her day fighting against a literal horde of vampires, immediately threw up her hands. “That’s your beef with him right now?!”
The fight paused as Dracula and Moon Knight became very aware of their audience.
Dracula’s golden eyes flicked sharply to Peter’s hand, landing directly on the Darkhold page. In a blink, his body tensed. He lunged.
“Nope!” Doreen tackled Peter immediately, slinging him over her shoulder before sprinting toward the now-active portal.
“This is a bad idea!” Peter shouted as he was carried like a sack of potatoes.
Dracula snarled as he pursued them. Moon Knight, the ever-relentless loan shark, attempted to pin his debtor with his crescent throwing darts, narrowly missing the vampire’s cloak by a hair's breadth. The portal crackled violently, emitting a final blinding burst of light as the three of them vanished through.
Silence.
Reed and Moon Knight stood there, staring at the defunct portal, the lab completely wrecked around them.
Moon Knight angrily took the remaining dart in his hand and slammed it into the floor. “Goddammit!”
Reed finally turned to him. “So... how much does Dracula even owe you?”
Moon Knight glowered. “Five.”
Reed raised an eyebrow. “Five what, exactly?”
Internally, he considered the terrifying possibility that it could be anything between five dollars and five million, and either would make perfect sense given Moon Knight’s general existence.
Moon Knight only grunted in reply.