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Logan had seen many strange things in his life, but none of it had prepared him for the Void—a bleak, desolate realm where the lost and discarded were sent to be forgotten. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. His world had ended long ago, and he had been content to let it all fade away with him. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.It all started with Deadpool, who, in a desperate attempt to save his crumbling timeline, had dug up a Logan from another universe. Deadpool hoped that this Logan could somehow anchor his dying world, but the plan fell apart when it became clear that resurrecting the dead wouldn’t solve his problems. Undeterred, Deadpool turned to an alternate solution—he found a different Logan, one who was still alive but from another reality entirely, and dragged him across the multiverse in search of a way to save his home.The journey led them to the Void, a realm where time and space had no meaning, where everything pruned or discarded by the Time Variance Authority was sent to be erased from existence. It was a wasteland of forgotten memories and broken dreams, ruled by Cassandra Nova, a twisted and powerful psychic who had carved out her own empire in the Void’s eternal night.Cassandra, an anomaly and the twin sister of Charles Xavier, had been banished to the Void long ago. Unlike her brother, who had dedicated his life to protecting and nurturing mutantkind, Cassandra found a grim satisfaction in ruling over the remnants of discarded timelines. Here, she reigned over the lost and the broken, content to maintain her dominion in the shadows, far removed from the concerns of the multiverse beyond.But her reign was far from peaceful. The Resistance, a band of survivors who had also been cast into the Void, had rallied against Cassandra’s ruthless rule. They were mutants, mercenaries, and misfits, pruned from their timelines by the TVA and discarded into this forsaken place. Stripped of their homes and futures, they had found themselves at the mercy of Cassandra’s twisted whims. Many had lost friends—heroes like Daredevil and Punisher—who had fallen victim to her cruelty. Fueled by a desire for justice and revenge, they banded together with one purpose: to overthrow the tyrant who had turned their exile into a living nightmare.Logan, however, was a man out of place and out of time. The battles he’d fought in his own world had left him weary, and now, here in the Void, he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, fighting for a cause that didn’t feel like his own. But Deadpool had dragged him into it, and now, with no way back, Logan found himself among the Resistance. Yet he kept to the fringes, unwilling to fully commit to a fight that felt as hopeless as the life he’d left behind.The night was quiet, save for the crackling of a campfire and the distant murmur of the Resistance as they prepared for the battle to come. They had set up camp on the outskirts of Cassandra’s domain, a desolate wasteland that mirrored the emptiness Logan felt inside. He sat alone, his broad shoulders slumped, elbows resting on his knees as if the effort of holding himself up was just too much.He wore his old yellow and blue suit, a relic from another time, another life. It clung to his powerful frame, now marred with dirt and blood—tangible reminders of countless battles fought and wounds endured. The suit’s iconic colors, once vibrant, had faded over time, the fabric worn and torn, bearing the scars of a history that weighed heavily on his soul.In his gloved hand, Logan gripped a near-empty bottle of liquor, the amber liquid inside sloshing quietly as he lifted it to his lips. The fire reflected off the glass, casting a dim glow over the label, but the drink offered little comfort. It was a weak balm for the old wounds that ached deep inside him, wounds that no amount of alcohol could ever truly numb.Movement in the darkness caught his attention. Logan glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he recognized the figure approaching. Laura. She moved with a quiet confidence, each step sure and deliberate, her slender silhouette cutting through the night like a blade. The firelight caught in her dark hair, casting a halo of warmth around her as she drew closer, her expression unreadable.Logan sighed heavily, the sound rough and thick with exhaustion. “Oh, hey, hey,” he muttered, his voice gravelly from too many nights just like this one. “I’m not looking for company. Get outta here.”But Laura didn’t stop. Ignoring his gruff dismissal, she continued forward, a faint smile playing on her lips as she settled down beside him on the log. The warmth of her presence seeped into the space between them, a quiet defiance against his attempt to push her away. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat close enough that the worn leather of her outfit brushed against his.For a while, Logan tried to pretend she wasn’t there, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the fire. But Laura was not one to be ignored, and eventually, he turned to look at her, his tired eyes searching hers for the reason behind her persistence.“You remind me of him,” Laura said, breaking the quiet with an almost casual ease, though her eyes were fixed on the flames.Logan blinked, her words cutting through the haze of alcohol clouding his mind. He looked at her more closely, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a bitter smile. “Angry, drunk, mean,” she added, her tone as sharp as the adamantium claws sheathed in her hands.He huffed out a dry, humorless laugh. “Sounds like a great guy.”“Wasn’t finished,” Laura shot back, her voice firm, cutting through his attempt at sarcasm.Logan turned to face her fully now, curiosity flickering in his tired eyes. There was something in the way she looked at him—something that made him feel like she was seeing right through him, to all the things he didn’t want anyone to see.“Showed up when it mattered the most,” she continued, her gaze steady, unwavering. “Couldn't help it.”A heavy sigh escaped Logan’s lips, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He looked away, the firelight casting deep shadows across his face as he stared down at the bottle in his hand.Laura’s voice softened, but the sincerity in her words cut deep. “You might not know it, but... you're a good man, Logan.”Logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and filled with self-loathing. “You might not know it,” he muttered, his voice thick with regret, “but apparently, I’m the worst Logan.”Laura was quiet for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. She seemed to be contemplating her next words carefully, weighing them before she spoke. “I got to have a life because of you,” she said finally, her voice filled with a quiet intensity. She turned to look at him, her gaze piercing. “I got to grow up because of you. A lot of kids did.”Logan’s expression hardened, and he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “A lot of kids didn’t grow up because of me,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Trust me, kid, I’m no hero.”Laura’s gaze drifted to his suit, the iconic yellow and blue standing out against the dark night. The suit spoke of a history, of battles fought and victories won, but also of sacrifices made. “That suit says different,” she remarked, her voice gentle but firm.Logan followed her gaze, looking down at the worn fabric, the battle scars etched into it. His expression softened, a mixture of regret and something darker flickering across his face. “Oh, you like it?” he asked, his voice lighter, almost wistful. “Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean… Storm... Beast. All of them… wanted me to be a part of the team, but I wouldn’t. Told them they all looked fucking ridiculous. I mean...” His voice trailed off, his tone turning resigned, almost sad. “I couldn’t have them thinking I wanted to be there.”He paused, his eyes lingering on the suit as memories began to claw their way to the surface. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence that stretched between them. Laura waited, sensing that something deeper was buried beneath his words.“I didn’t wear it because I was part of the team,” Logan said finally, his voice quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. “I wore it because they needed me. But I was always... scared, I guess. Scared that if I got too close, I’d end up hurting them. And then one day...”He trailed off again, his grip on the bottle tightening as the weight of the memory settled over him. He stared into the fire, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “One day, I did.”“There was this... guy,” Logan continued, his words carefully chosen. “He made me see things that weren’t real. Made me think... made me believe that everyone I cared about was the enemy. That they were... monsters. Forty of them, all charging the place where we lived. The school for mutants—the place I was supposed to protect. All my worst enemies—Silver Samurai, Bullseye… villains I thought I’d never see again. Mysterio... He made me believe it was real.”Logan’s voice cracked slightly, the pain in his words unmistakable. He fought to keep going, to tell the truth of what happened, no matter how much it hurt. “I tore through them all, Laura. Didn’t think twice. I thought I was protecting everyone, that I was saving my family. But when I got to the last one…”He faltered, his breath hitching as he struggled to continue. His eyes, which had been focused on the fire, grew distant and glassy, as if he was no longer in the present but trapped in the horrific memory. The leather of his gloves creaked as his fists tightened, every muscle in his body tensing, as though bracing for an impact that only he could feel.Laura watched him closely, her heart aching as she saw the raw anguish etched into his features. It was clear that this wasn’t just a story for him—it was a wound that had never healed, one that festered every time he thought about it. She could see how his entire body had gone rigid, how his voice had grown hoarse, how it seemed to physically pain him just to relive those moments.And then his words began to stumble, the usually gruff, unshakeable man crumbling before her eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, the agony too much to bear.Laura couldn’t take it anymore. She saw the torment in his eyes, the way his lips trembled as he tried to speak, and it broke something inside her. She didn’t want to hear him say it—she didn’t need to. The pain was already more than enough.“I can guess the rest,” she said softly, her voice gentle as she reached out, trying to spare him the pain of reliving it.But Logan shook his head, his voice almost desperate. “No, no—let me say it. I... I need to say it.”He took a shaky breath, his eyes glistening in the firelight as he forced himself to continue. “When the illusion broke... they were all dead. Every last one of them. And that last one, the one I thought was Bullseye…”Logan’s breath hitched, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “It wasn’t Bullseye. It was... it was Jubilee. My... my kid. My protege.” His voice wavered, filled with a deep, unrelenting sorrow. “She was just lying there, in my arms, looking up at me with those big, open eyes, like she couldn’t believe what I’d done. Like she was accusing me.”Logan took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice thick with grief. “I killed her. I killed all of them—my friends, the kids... people I was supposed to protect. And I did it all thinking I was saving them.”The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the heavy silence that followed. Logan’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep his emotions in check, but the weight of the memory was too much, dragging him down into a darkness he had tried so hard to escape.“They were dead,” Logan continued after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every last one of them. And this suit... this suit’s all I got to remind me of... who they were... and what I did.”Laura looked away as Logan finished telling his story, unable to meet his eyes. The weight of his confession hung heavy between them, the firelight casting their faces in deep, shifting shadows. She wanted to comfort him, to say something that would make it better, but the words wouldn’t come. What could possibly ease the pain of what he’d done?Logan sniffled, wiping a hand roughly across his face before taking a long, slow sip from his bottle. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it did little to dull the ache in his chest.Finally, Laura broke the silence. “We’re headed to Cassandra’s at sunup,” she said, her voice steady but soft.Logan didn’t look at her. He stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his haunted eyes. “Have fun,” he muttered. “Not my fight.”Laura watched him for a moment, her gaze intense, as if she was trying to will him to join them. “We won’t pull this off without you,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of desperation.Logan glanced at her, just a flicker of movement, but then he looked away, his expression hardening. He wasn’t going to budge.Logan watched as Laura stood up, her shoulders tense with the weight of everything left unsaid. She had tried, in her own way, to reach him, to pull him out of the darkness he had been drowning in for so long. But as she turned to leave, Logan’s voice, rough and gravelly, cut through the silence, stopping her in her tracks.“Hey,” he called out, his tone carrying a mix of resignation and sadness. Laura paused, her back still to him, waiting for whatever he had to say. “Whoever you think I am… you’ve got the wrong guy.”Laura turned around slowly, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, she stood there, taking in the sight of this man who had been through so much—this man who had lost everything and was convinced he had nothing left to give. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, unable to find a way to break through the wall he had built around himself.But then, with a steadying breath, she found the strength to speak. “You were always the wrong guy,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. There was no malice in her words, only a sad understanding of the truth they both shared.Logan looked up at her, surprise flickering across his face. For a moment, their gazes locked, and something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment of all the pain, all the loss, and the crushing guilt that bound them together. But just as quickly, Logan looked away, his gaze falling back to the fire, the flames reflecting the turmoil within him.Laura stood there for another moment, her eyes softening as she saw the finality in his expression. She wanted to reach out, to say something that might change his mind, but she knew better. Logan was set in his ways, and no words from her could break through that.Without another word, Laura turned and walked away, her footsteps quiet on the soft earth. She didn’t look back this time, knowing that nothing she said would change his mindThe night closed in around him, the fire crackling softly, and Logan found himself alone once again. But this time, the silence wasn’t just lonely—it was suffocating. The weight of his past, the faces of those he’d lost, pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.He gazed into the fire, the flames dancing in his eyes, but all he could see were the ghosts of the people he had loved and lost. The people he had failed. And as he sat there, the bottle in his hand, Logan realized that no matter how much he drank, no matter how hard he tried to forget, the pain would never go away.He was the wrong guy, just as Laura had said. But maybe, just maybe, he could still do one thing right.Logan took another sip from the bottle, his grip tightening around the glass. The fire crackled on, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that had settled over him. And as the night wore on, he sat there, lost in the memories of a past he couldn’t change, trying to find the strength to face the future.
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Elektra Natchios had always lived in the shadows, but the Void was a darkness unlike anything she had ever known. It was a graveyard of worlds, a place where broken realities and forgotten souls lingered, trapped in a never-ending twilight. Here, survival meant more than just fighting to stay alive; it meant battling the remnants of your past that threatened to consume you whole.She had been pulled into this forsaken place by the TVA, alongside Matt Murdock, the man who had once been a part of her life, if only for a brief moment. Daredevil, they called him—the blind vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen. Their time together had been short, a fleeting connection that had ended almost as soon as it began. Yet, even in this strange new world, his presence had been a comfort. Until Cassandra Nova tore it all away.The battle against Cassandra had been a nightmare. The telepath had invaded their minds with ease, unearthing memories that Elektra had buried long ago. She had seen Matt fall, his mind twisted and broken by Cassandra’s powers. Elektra had fought to save him, but in the end, all she could do was survive. It wasn’t the first time she had lost someone, but it didn’t make the sting of it any less sharp.Since then, she had wandered the desolate landscape, a lone warrior searching for a purpose in a world that seemed intent on breaking her. That’s when she found the Resistance, a ragtag group of survivors who refused to give in to the despair of the Void. They had fought Cassandra once before, and though they had survived, the battle had left them fractured and wary.Now, as the night settled over the barren landscape, Elektra found herself drawn to the flickering light of a campfire. She could see Laura Howlett sitting alone by the fire, her green eyes reflecting the flames as she stared into the embers. Elektra had seen that look before—in herself, and in others who had been forged in violence and loss. It was the look of someone carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, unsure if she could bear it any longer.Elektra approached the fire, taking a seat on a nearby log. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, but it was a silence Elektra understood well. Sometimes, the hardest battles were the ones you fought within yourself.“You talked to Logan,” Elektra said after a moment, breaking the silence.Laura nodded, her gaze still fixed on the fire. “Yeah… he told me some things.”Elektra waited, sensing there was more Laura needed to say.“He’s been through a lot,” Laura continued, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were speaking to herself. Her face hardened as she spoke, the lines of her youthful features tightening under the weight of what she was about to reveal. There was a brief moment where she seemed to struggle, her lips parting as though the words were too heavy to push out. Elektra noticed how Laura’s hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening as she took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue.“He told me about… Mysterio,” Laura finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “A man from his world… a master of illusions. He made Logan think that his home—the X-Mansion, where he lived with the X-Men—was under attack.”Elektra raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the term. Laura caught her expression and elaborated, her voice tightening with the effort of recalling the details.“The X-Mansion,” Laura explained, her voice growing steadier as she spoke, “was a school for people like him. Mutants. It was more than just a school, though—it was a sanctuary, a place where they could be safe and learn to control their powers. Logan lived there with others like him, the X-Men. They were his family.”She paused, and Elektra could see the strain in Laura’s expression as she continued. “Mysterio made him believe that the mansion was being attacked by people he had fought for years, enemies who had always wanted to destroy him and everyone he cared about. Logan thought he was defending his home, his family.”Laura’s voice began to tremble slightly as she forced the next words out. “But it wasn’t real. It was all an illusion. Mysterio tricked him into believing the people he loved were the enemy. And Logan… he killed them all. The X-Men. His family. His… kid.”The admission hung in the air like a death sentence, each word seeming to take more effort than the last. Laura’s voice faltered as she finished, and she looked down, her eyes dark with the weight of what she had just said. She wasn’t just telling a story; she was revealing a part of herself, a glimpse into the pain she carried for the man who had been her father in another world.Elektra remained silent, letting the gravity of Laura’s words sink in. She could feel the rawness of the memory, the way it had affected Laura, and she knew that there were no easy words to offer in response.“Logan was meant to be a protector,” Elektra finally said, her voice quiet but steady. “But in that moment, he became the weapon they wanted him to be.”Laura’s expression hardened even more, the lines of her face growing taut with the effort to keep her emotions in check. “Yeah… and that’s why he’s so distant. He thinks he’s too dangerous to be around anyone, that he doesn’t deserve to be part of something good.”She hesitated, her voice wavering before she continued. “You know… I’m just a clone of him. A clone of a Logan who died in another world. I was created to be a weapon, too, just like him. They tried to make me into something I’m not… and sometimes, I wonder if that’s all I’ll ever be.”Elektra studied Laura, seeing the echoes of her own past in the younger woman. “You remind me of someone I once knew,” she said, her voice softening with the weight of memory. “Her name was Abby. She was like a daughter to me, and like you, she was caught between being what others wanted her to be and finding her own path.”Laura turned to look at Elektra, her green eyes searching, and Elektra could see the deep conflict within her. “It’s not easy,” Laura admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes… I wonder if I’ll end up like Logan. If I’ll become that weapon, hurting everyone I care about. I don’t want to… but it feels like I can’t escape it. It’s who I am. A killer.”Elektra’s expression softened further as she looked at Laura. “It’s not who you are, Laura. It’s what they made you to be. But you have a choice. You can fight it, just like Abby did, just like you’re doing now. It’s not easy, and the fear will always be there… but you can choose to be more.”Laura didn’t respond immediately. She seemed to be turning Elektra’s words over in her mind, weighing them against the scars of her past. Finally, she sighed, a small, resigned sound. “Logan doesn’t believe that,” she said quietly. “He thinks it’s too late for him.”“Maybe,” Elektra replied. “But that doesn’t mean it’s too late for you.”Laura’s eyes flickered with something—hope, maybe, or at least the faintest glimmer of it. She gave a small nod, more to herself than to Elektra. “Yeah,” she murmured, “maybe.”The fire crackled between them, the only sound in the stillness of the night. For a long moment, they sat there in silence, two warriors bound by the weight of their pasts and the uncertainty of their futures. But in that moment, there was an understanding, a shared recognition that they didn’t have to be defined by the darkness that had shaped them.As the fire burned low, Laura finally spoke again. “Thanks,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Elektra nodded, not needing to say anything more. She understood what it meant to carry the burden of the past, to fight against the identity others had tried to force upon you. And she knew that, for all the battles they had yet to face, the hardest fight would always be the one within themselves.But as they sat there, side by side, Elektra felt a quiet resolve settle over her. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together—not as weapons, but as the people they chose to be.
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The Void was a place where forgotten worlds came to die. An endless expanse of shattered realities, where the remnants of pruned timelines clashed in a chaotic, desolate landscape. The sky was a constant twilight, an unsettling, bruised hue that offered no comfort, no sense of time. It was a fitting place for those who had been discarded by the multiverse—a graveyard of lost souls and broken dreams.Blade moved through this wasteland with lethal grace, a lone figure in black, cutting through the silence like a shadow. He was known as the Daywalker, a half-vampire who had dedicated his life to hunting the creatures of the night. Born from tragedy, Blade was a man on a mission—one who had seen the darkest corners of the human world, where monsters thrived and nightmares were all too real.But the Void was different. It wasn’t just a place where evil lurked in the shadows; it was a realm where entire realities had been erased, deemed unnecessary by the Time Variance Authority. Blade had been pulled into this twisted purgatory along with a ragtag group of survivors—characters from across the multiverse who had been pruned from their respective timelines and left to fend for themselves in this desolate wasteland. Now, they were united by a common goal: to overthrow Cassandra Nova, the tyrant who ruled the Void with an iron fist, using her psychic powers to manipulate and control the minds of those who opposed her.The Resistance had spent the previous night planning their next move. Blade, Elektra, and the others had gathered around a dim campfire, discussing strategies and sharing grim stories of battles fought and friends lost. Logan had kept his distance at first, his presence a lingering question mark as he brooded in the shadows. But Laura’s words from the night before had gotten to him, and now, against his own instincts, he was preparing to join the fight. Cassandra’s lair was well-protected, and her powers made her a formidable foe. Blade knew it would take everything they had—and then some—to stand a chance against her.Morning in the Void was a meaningless concept. The sky remained the same oppressive shade of twilight, casting a dull, gray light over the encampment. The Resistance was preparing, gathering weapons, whispering strategies. Laura, hardened by her conversation with Elektra, was sharpening her claws in silence, the metallic sound of adamantium against stone adding a sharp edge to the atmosphere. Elektra stood nearby, her expression focused as she tested the balance of her sai, the weapons a natural extension of her deadly grace.Logan, no longer brooding in the shadows, was cleaning and sharpening his own claws with a whetstone, his face set in a grim expression. His classic yellow-and-blue suit, now worn and faded, clung to him like a second skin. He was ready to fight, but the weight of his past—especially the memories dredged up by Mysterio—seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud.Standing off to the side, shuffling a deck of cards with an ease that betrayed his impatience, was Remy LeBeau—Gambit. The faint glow of kinetic energy pulsed through his fingers as he absentmindedly charged a card, only to flick it into the air and catch it before it could explode. His eyes, always filled with a spark, were now narrowed with focus, reflecting the gravity of the situation. He wasn’t one for grand strategies, but he understood the stakes. Gambit knew that, in a place like the Void, every card you played had to count.“Mon dieu, how long we gonna wait?” Gambit muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though his voice carried to those nearby. “If we gonna make a move, we need to do it fast.”Blade stood apart from the others, watching silently as they worked. He was used to being a lone wolf, a solitary hunter who relied on his own strength and cunning to get the job done. But here, in this strange, forsaken place, even Blade knew that he would need allies if they were to survive. They were outnumbered, facing a foe who could twist their very minds against them. It was a daunting task, even for someone like Blade.As he scanned the horizon, Blade’s heightened senses caught the sound of footsteps—light, almost too cheerful for the grim task ahead. A familiar voice followed, breaking the heavy silence like a sledgehammer. Deadpool, of course. The mercenary with a mouth had a knack for turning up at the most inconvenient times, and the Void seemed to suit him perfectly. A world of chaos for a man who thrived in it.Deadpool sauntered into view, his red-and-black suit clashing garishly with the muted tones of the Void. The other members of the Resistance barely acknowledged him—Elektra kept her focus on her weapons, Laura, still processing her conversation with Elektra the night before, said nothing, and Gambit continued to shuffle his cards, his attention split between them and Deadpool. Logan, despite his earlier brooding, glanced up from his claws, his expression shifting into one of mild annoyance.Blade knew better than to ignore Wade Wilson. The man was like a force of nature—annoying, relentless, and impossible to avoid.“Hey there, Tall, Dark, and Broody!” Deadpool called out, waving like they were best friends. “You know, this whole apocalyptic wasteland thing? Kinda digging it. Reminds me of a heavy metal album cover I saw once. Or maybe it was a bad acid trip? Hard to tell.”Blade turned slightly, his expression unreadable behind his shades. He didn’t respond, but Deadpool, as usual, was undeterred by silence.“Man, you really commit to the whole ‘tall, dark, and deadly’ vibe, don’t you?” Deadpool continued, strolling closer. “It’s like you walked straight out of a GQ special: ‘Vampire Hunting for the Fashionably Grim.’ I mean, I get it—black is slimming, mysterious, and goes with everything. But c’mon, Blade, mix it up a little! You’ve got the wardrobe of a 1930s gangster who just discovered Hot Topic.”Blade remained silent, his patience already wearing thin, but Deadpool’s motor mouth kept running.“You know, you could really use a pop of color. Maybe some red—blood’s your thing, right? I bet a nice crimson cape would really set off those brooding eyes of yours. Or hey, how about a splash of purple? It worked wonders for Prince, and you know what they say: ‘Vampires love royalty.’”He chuckled at his own joke, barely pausing to catch his breath. “But no, you stick with the all-black everything. It’s a classic look that worked for Keanu, sure, but it’s also so predictable. Like, what’s next? You gonna whip out some gothic poetry? Maybe recite some Poe while you’re at it?”Blade’s gaze remained locked on the horizon, his patience thinning. Yet, Deadpool was relentless, his words coming faster, his grin growing wider.“Seriously, though, if you’re gonna go for the whole ‘man of mystery’ look, you’ve gotta add some flair. Think Zorro, but with fangs! Or how about a little Dracula-meets-David Bowie? Now that would turn heads.”Blade’s grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly, but he remained silent, allowing Deadpool to continue his one-sided conversation. The mercenary kept fidgeting with his mask, clearly uncomfortable, until finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Deadpool stopped in his tracks.“You know, this mask is great for a lot of things—like hiding my devastatingly good looks from all the screaming fangirls—but it’s a bit of a pain when you’re trying to breathe in this lovely post-apocalyptic air.” Without waiting for a response, Deadpool pulled off his mask, revealing his scarred, disfigured face—bald and hairless, marked by the relentless torment of cancer and the experimental treatments that had kept him alive. He took in a deep breath of the cool Void air. “Ah, much better. Sometimes a guy just needs to let his face breathe, y’know?”Blade’s eyes narrowed as he studied Deadpool’s face. There was something oddly familiar about the man beneath the mask. The scars were severe, crisscrossing his skin like a twisted map, but there was no mistaking it—the resemblance was uncanny.“You look familiar,” Blade said, his voice low and measured. “Really familiar.”Deadpool’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he caught Blade’s gaze. “Really? Most people say I have one of those faces you’d never forget. I’m like a Picasso painting come to life. If Picasso had a thing for radioactive pepperoni.”Blade ignored the quip, his gaze unwavering. “Hannibal King.”Deadpool’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you noticed! Yeah, we’re basically twinsies—same charming good looks, same actor. But let’s be real, King was the Diet Coke of vampire hunters. I’m the full-sugar, extra-caffeine version with a side of chimichangas. Plus, King couldn’t pull off red spandex.”Blade didn’t respond immediately, his mind piecing together the similarities. He had worked with Hannibal King once, back in a time that seemed like a distant memory. The man standing before him, despite the scars and the disfigurement, bore a striking resemblance to the smart-mouthed hunter he once knew.“What are you?” Blade asked, his voice betraying a mix of curiosity and suspicion.Deadpool leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m what happens when you take an actor who refuses to quit, toss him into the blender of a studio too cheap to hire someone new, and hit ‘puree.’ Throw in a pinch of Weapon X, a heaping spoonful of bad life choices, and voilà—Deadpool, version 3.0. Oh, and don’t forget the cancer. That’s the secret ingredient—kinda like the cancer that’s infesting the MCU right now. You know, the kind that keeps itself alive with its own twisted healing factor.”Blade’s eyes narrowed further, his patience clearly wearing thin.“And by healing factor, I mean shock value cameos like yourself, Mr. Snipes, and Magic Mike over there,” Deadpool continued, not missing a beat. “Just a little dose of nostalgia to keep the fans from realizing they’re watching the same old formula dressed up in a different costume. Cancerous, but hey, it’s got regeneration powers, so it just keeps going... and going... and going.”Blade turned slightly, his expression shifting into one of growing annoyance. “Does this motherfucker ever shut up?” he asked, directing his question to Logan.Logan didn’t even look up from his claws, his voice a low grumble. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”Deadpool, catching the exchange, grinned even wider. “Oh, don’t worry, sunshine. You know you love my dulcet tones. Besides, who else is gonna keep you from falling into a deep, existential depression? Certainly not Mr. Brood-and-Blood over here.”"You know, Blade, as a wise man once said in Passenger 57: ‘Always bet on black.’ And man, did you ever. Looks like you’ve got the whole Resistance committed to this funeral procession chic! Seriously, what’s with all the gloom and doom? You, Laura, Elektra—it’s like you’re all stuck in the grimmest fashion show ever. And hey, I’m all for the goth aesthetic, but you two are taking it to the next level. Gambit, you too! Don’t think I didn’t notice you—purple should be bold, not bleak! You’re all dressed like the color spectrum took a day off. All you’re missing are some My Chemical Romance lyrics stitched onto your sleeves.”He gestured dramatically at his own red-and-black suit. “Meanwhile, the rest of us have moved on—embraced the full Crayola box of superhero style! But you guys? Still rocking that grimdark, black-on-black everything. Maybe try something that doesn’t scream ‘brooding antihero with daddy issues.’”His eyes then lit up as they landed on Logan. “I mean, just look at Logan! Finally donning the classic yellow and blue like it’s 1997! Who knew the future of fashion was locked in a Saturday morning cartoon? We might be in a void, but at least someone got the memo to brighten things up.” So, Blade, let me ask you—what would you prefer?”Deadpool suddenly switched gears, addressing an unseen audience. “Yellow spandex? YES, Scott, I would prefer yellow spandex! EVERYONE was demanding yellow spandex! Wake up and smell the leather polish, four-eyes! Color is back, spandex is king, and Jean left you for Logan because let’s be real—she wanted the animal, not a Boy Scout with a wardrobe out of a Sears catalog!”Deadpool’s grin turned more mischievous. "And speaking of brooding—Joe, I know there’s a Thesaurus somewhere in your literary toolbox, right? You’ve used ‘brooding’ like six times already. C’mon, mix it up! This isn’t Twilight—what is it with the rest of you? It’s like you all just had a group therapy session where everyone shared their haunted memories, and now you’re walking around like Tom Hanks just died.” His eyes flicked sideways for a split second, as if he were sharing an inside joke with someone only he could see. “I guess some authors just can’t resist getting deep and moody, huh?”Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, Deadpool straightened up and looked off into the distance, his eyes narrowing. “For fuck’s sake, Joey!” he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger. “Deadpool & Wolverine is supposed to be a buddy cop comedy, not Batman v. Superman. You know, the one where everything’s so grimdark Superman, beloved surrogate father figure to America, fucking died!”He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, it’s like everyone forgot what fun is.”Blade’s patience finally snapped. “You’re not Hannibal.”“Nope,” Deadpool replied with a shrug, “but close enough to keep things confusing. Come on, Daywalker, aren’t you glad to see me? You and Hannibal were such a great team! And now, instead of hunting vampires, I’ve moved up in the world—saving the multiverse and everything! And look, I brought all my snarky charm with me! More importantly, I didn’t get stuck playing second fiddle in a team of wannabe vampire hunters this time! Can you imagine me, the king of snark, reduced to comic relief? Oh wait, I was. But now, I’m back and better than ever! I mean, who doesn’t love a good wisecracking sidekick?”Deadpool sidled closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “At least I didn’t get recast, which is more than I can say for some. You’ve gotta admit, it’s gotta be confusing when half the world thinks you’re Wesley Snipes, clinging to the past like a security blanket, while the other half is trying to figure out why you look like Mahershala Ali. And me? I’m just here trying to keep up with all the nostalgia—because let’s face it, this whole movie’s a ‘90s reunion tour. Who knew the multiverse would turn into Comic-Con for old-timers?”Blade’s eyes narrowed further, clearly unimpressed. “You talk too much.”“Still better than being all broody and silent like some moody Batman clone,” Deadpool quipped. “Besides, who else is gonna keep you from taking yourself too seriously? We can’t all be grimdark, Daywalker. Some of us have to keep the comedy alive. You know, before we end up so dark and edgy that we implode the whole studio. I mean, look at DC—they got so lost in the shadows, they had to drag James Gunn away from Marvel just to lighten things up. Poor guy had to leave behind a team of lovable misfits just to save a sinking ship.”Blade’s jaw tightened, the tension palpable as Deadpool’s relentless banter finally began to wear on even his legendary stoicism. “You’re insane.”Deadpool’s grin only widened. “Maybe. But I’m also your best shot at getting out of this alive. So what do you say, Daywalker? Partners?”Blade’s eyes darkened, but after a moment of hesitation, he gave a curt nod. “Just stay out of my way.”Deadpool saluted with exaggerated flair. “Aye-aye, Captain! Don’t worry, I’ll let you take the lead. You’re better at brooding, anyway.”As Blade turned away, Deadpool couldn’t resist one last jab. “And hey, when we survive this—and let’s be real, we will—maybe we can compare notes on vampire slaying. Who knows? You might even outshine Buffy. Heck, maybe we can get Joss Whedon to direct our next team-up. Think about it, Blade: the Daywalker in a Whedonverse. It’s got a ring to it!”Blade kept walking, his silence unbroken, as stoic as ever. But there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, something Deadpool might have mistaken for amusement—if he hadn’t been too busy reveling in his own cleverness.