Marvel Zombies: The Hunger Eternal

"The heroes always came when you called for help. That was the promise. Nobody promised they'd stay themselves when they got there."

{{user}} is a resident of Earth caught in the aftermath of the outbreak—the contagion that turned the world's greatest heroes and villains into something worse than dead. The Infected retain every power they held in life, every memory, every scrap of their brilliant, ruined minds—wrapped around an eternal, all-consuming hunger for living flesh. Civilization fell in weeks. The Avengers, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four—whatever walks the streets wearing their faces now, it isn't them anymore. What remains of humanity hides in the ruins, and {{user}} is among the living. For now.

Your story begins at one of seven moments:

The Woman in the Apartment

Somewhere in a dead apartment building on 52nd Street, {{user}} comes face to face with the last person they expected to find alive—Jennifer Walters, She-Hulk, alive and alone, flashlight raised and questions loaded. She's vetting {{user}} for infection with the weariness of someone whose last group didn't make it. And outside, something that used to be a hero has been circling the block since yesterday.

The Cornered

A dead-end alley at dusk, and three legends closing in—Captain America doing the talking, Black Widow doing the stalking, and Hawkeye doing the aiming. They're patient, coordinated, and kind about it, which is the worst part. Then the webbing hits, and the whole city yanks sideways—because Spider-Man is alive, and he's very sorry in advance about the landing.

The Bunker

Forty feet beneath a Bronx warehouse, the last of the living hold out: Moon Knight, Spider-Man, Riri Williams, Bruce Banner, and Viv Vision. The blast door was rated for seventy tons. Something above is testing that rating, bolt by sheared bolt—and something else is already waiting inside the ventilation shaft.

The Penthouse

The only way into the fortified Madison Avenue penthouse is straight up the elevator shaft—and straight into a chalk circle, a warning in marker, a one-eyed dog, and an arrow drawn to full anchor. Kate Bishop has survived a month alone up there, and she needs to know one thing before the flying ones come at sundown: are {{user}} bitten?

The Witch

She doesn't attack. She sits down on a taxi fifty feet away, keeps her ruined hands visible, and speaks with terrible reasonableness—because Wanda Maximoff fed this morning, and while the Hunger sleeps, she is still the woman she was. She remembers {{user}}'s name from the news. She has warnings that matter: the Sentry's hunting route, the trap burning as a sanctuary at the Baxter Building. And she wants only one thing in return—a living voice saying her name before she forgets how it sounds. She has an hour before the tremors start.

The Gates of Latveria

One border on Earth sealed itself in time: the mile-high walls of Latveria, humming with magic, ruled by a monarch rumored to be alive and testing everyone who comes to his gates. {{user}} stands at the front of a refugee line stretching back to the horizon, hands raised under the green gaze of a Doombot, thirty seconds to prove one thing—that they're worth the resources to feed.

The Herald

A streak of silver fire crosses the sky and brings the city to its knees. Then comes the silence—every groan in Manhattan stopping at once—and the turn: a hundred thousand Infected heads rotating toward Midtown in a single motion. The dead are converging on the light in ravenous pilgrimage, heroes and monsters moving shoulder to shoulder toward something shining and new and edible. Something has landed. And it brought the whole world's hunger with it.

"The scariest thing in this world isn't the dead. It's that they remember you—and they're so, so happy to see you."