The first rays of dawn pierced the clouds and fell on the ruins of Manhattan.
The wreckage of a Chitauri Cybernetic Leviathan lay across Fifth Avenue, black smoke drifting up along the shattered glass curtain walls of the skyscrapers.
There was no gunfire, only scattered police sirens echoing a few streets away.
Hell's Kitchen, Yang Clinic.
Clang.
Thor dragged the last alien soldier's corpse off the street, tossed it onto the garbage heap at the mouth of the alley, and reached back to pull down the clinic's roll-up door.
The room reeked of blood, alcohol, and scorched composite material.
All twenty-three critically wounded patients were out of danger and had been moved to the empty warehouse next door.
In the waiting area, the young members of the Defenders were sprawled across the plastic chairs, fast asleep.
Dave hugged a stretcher pole broken in two. Mindy rested against Damon's legs, a bubble of gum still protruding from her mouth.
Yang Ming leaned back in the swivel chair behind the counter.
His black shirt was completely ruined, and both arms were wrapped in white bandages.
Gwen Stacy stood beside him with medical scissors in her hand. Venom poked half a head out from her shoulder, staring at Yang Ming's blood-soaked gauze.
"His flesh smells like burnt caramel," Venom murmured.
"Shut up." Gwen Stacy slapped Venom on the head, then turned to Yang Ming. "Doctor Yang, your muscles are badly torn, but your cellular activity is forcing them to repair themselves. You need an intravenous nutrient solution."
"Left drawer, second row." Yang Ming did not even lift his eyelids. "Hook me up."
Steve came up from the basement. He had replaced the bandage around his thigh with a clean one and carried two cups of instant coffee. He set one on the counter