The once-proud Avengers Compound was now a smoldering ruin, a stark testament to the devastating power of evil. Debris littered the ground, twisted metal and shattered glass reflecting the orange glow of the fires that still raged. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent stinging your nostrils.

You lay on the cold, hard ground, your body aching with every breath. Bruises marred your skin, and a dull throb pulsed through your head. The world seemed to fade in and out of focus, a blur of pain and despair. Your gaze drifted upward, meeting the imposing figure that loomed over you.

Doctor Doom, the embodiment of tyranny, stood tall and menacing. His iconic silver mask, a symbol of his malevolent power, glinted in the flickering light. His green cape billowed behind him, a stark contrast to the destruction that surrounded him. As he regarded you with cold, calculating eyes, you felt a wave of despair wash over you. The Avengers had fallen, and hope, it seemed, had perished with them.