"You two…"
Peggy opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but when she saw the unwavering determination in Dean and Sam's eyes, any last trace of doubt in her heart vanished.
Agent Carter had never been one to hesitate. So at this critical moment, she didn't waste time—after pausing for only a second, she handed her pistol straight to Dean.
"Be careful. Those mutants aren't playing around."
"Don't worry. We're not exactly soft ourselves," Dean said with a confident smirk.
Watching this, Howard Stark couldn't help chiming in, "Just hold them off for ten minutes. We've got three military zones stationed nearby. There's no way they won't pick up on the attack. Ten minutes—that's all we need, and backup will be here."
"Ten minutes. Got it." Sam nodded and grabbed a submachine gun from one of the guards.
Truthfully, he preferred a shotgun—but in a military facility like this, shotguns were rare. The guards were mostly equipped with LMGs and SMGs, so he had to make do.
Without another word, Dean and Sam, now armed, sprinted toward the main gate. They knew exactly what was coming for them—and there was no turning back now.
"I've killed demons," Dean muttered. "What's a few mutants compared to that?"
The moment they burst through the doors, Dean was met head-on by a snarling creature. It looked like some kind of mutant lizard-man, covered head-to-toe in fleshy protrusions that would give anyone with trypophobia nightmares.
Neither brother expected the mutants to have advanced this quickly. It had barely been three minutes since the first explosion—and they were already at the lab entrance.
Smoke and blood hung thick in the air. The ground was littered with shredded corpses—soldiers ripped apart like prey. Guts spilled everywhere. The metallic stench was overwhelming.
The lizard-man lunged at Dean. Dean fired without hesitation—but the thing dodged the bullet with a flash of movement, grabbing Dean's gun hand in a crushing grip.
In that instant, it felt like Dean's arms were caught in a hydraulic vice—no movement, no escape. But Sam was already in position. Raising his SMG, he unloaded a burst of gunfire straight into the lizard mutant.
The firepower tore through the creature's torso. Its insides—milky-white and sickly yellow—splattered across the floor.
"Thanks," Dean grunted, shaking off the now-loosened grip as the creature slumped dead.
"Keep your head up, Dean," Sam warned, scanning their surroundings. "These mutants aren't as dumb as they look—"
He cut off mid-sentence.
His eyes widened in disbelief as something caught his attention. He shouted, "Dean—look out!"
Without thinking, Dean dove to the side.
A split second later, a thick, crimson whip of flesh lashed out and struck the spot he'd just vacated, shattering the concrete floor and leaving a jagged trench in its wake.
Dean steadied himself and turned back—only to see the lizard-mutant he thought Sam had blown apart crawling upright again. Its massive jaws gaped open, and that whip-like appendage? It wasn't a weapon—it was its tongue.
"Lizard tail regeneration?" Dean muttered, stunned by the thing's insane healing factor. It was almost on par with Wolverine's. This time, he didn't hesitate—he raised his gun and unloaded straight at its head.
The lizard-man leapt high, agile as ever, dodging Dean's shots with a terrifying grace. But that was all Dean needed to spot its weakness.
"Go for the head! It can't heal that!"
Hearing that, both Dean and Sam focused fire, aiming directly at its skull and squeezing their triggers.
But hitting the head was easier said than done. Even trained snipers couldn't guarantee consistent headshots on a fast-moving mutant—and Dean and Sam weren't exactly S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. Their bullets mostly tore up air and concrete.
With a guttural roar, the lizard-mutant charged Sam, closing the distance in a flash and slamming him to the ground.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, turning to fire.
But before he could aim, a hulking stone-skinned brute barrelled in from the other side.
This mutant was covered head to toe in rocky armor—ordinary bullets didn't even slow him down. At best, they left small craters in his hide.
Relying on that natural tank-like defense, he smashed his way toward the lab, bulldozing everything in his path. Dean barely managed to twist his body in time before he was slammed and sent flying like a ragdoll.
He hit the ground hard with a painful thud. His pistol clattered from his hand as he gasped for air, pain flaring across his body. But he forced himself up.
They'd known this fight would be brutal.
But neither Dean nor Sam expected to be overwhelmed so quickly.
Against the raw physical power of mutants, their ordinary human bodies just couldn't hold the line.
"You don't understand…"
From a mirror nearby, a voice echoed—chilling, calm, absolute.
The Dark Watcher.
Smiling from within the mirror dimension, the shadowy figure whispered: "The outcome has already been sealed. No matter your plans, no matter your courage—this game is over. Alex has lost."
And with that smile, the mirrored world began to shift.
Through a ripple of watery distortion, the mirror's image began to fade—only to be replaced by the scorched battleground of New York City.
Inside the reflection, Wolverine was surrounded by a swarm of mutants. Though he fought with everything he had, his aged body betrayed him—his speed, strength, and reflexes no longer the apex weapons they once were.
With a feral roar, Logan lunged toward Sabretooth, trying to slash Victor apart with his claws—but before he could strike, two mutants seized his arms, locking him in place.
Seizing the opportunity, Victor roared and drove both claws deep into Wolverine's gut.
"RAAAHHHH!!"
Both men screamed—one in rage, the other in agony.
Wolverine's cry echoed with raw pain. Even though his adamantium skeleton resisted Victor's claws, his organs weren't so lucky. In his prime, Logan would've shrugged off such wounds—but now, with age dulling his healing factor, he could feel his life slipping away.
"He's almost done for. You're really not going to act?"
The Dark Watcher's voice was dripping with contempt, his grin smug as he looked toward Alex—like a predator circling wounded prey.
"I can't believe you're just going to stand there and let the old wolf bleed out like this."
Alex responded flatly, "You know the whole 'taunt your enemy into action' trick was invented on Earth, right?"
He crossed his arms in defiance, though a single drop of sweat slid down his cheek—betraying the tension beneath his calm.
"I'm curious… What's this all for? What do you get out of this? You're living beings too, creatures of this multiverse. Why destroy your own world with your own hands?"
"You think I'm destroying it?"
The Dark Watcher chuckled coldly, slowly shaking his head.
"No, no, no, Alex… You're wrong, intruder. I'm saving it."
"Saving it?" Alex's brow furrowed. "You destabilized this timeline's future, flooded it with mutants from other realities, triggered a multiversal war, and slaughtered countless innocent people. How the hell is that saving anything?"
"You don't understand a thing!"
For the first time, the Dark Watcher's calm cracked. His voice flared with fury, and his expression twisted with rage.
It was the first time Alex had seen the Watcher lose control.
"You think we changed the history of this world? No! It was you. You and your kind!"
"You're the real reason this universe is falling apart. This was once a beautiful world—brimming with infinite potential. But once the corruption seeped in… once higher-order interference rewrote this timeline's history… it was already over."
"The fabric of the universe was altered. People—entire lives—were erased from existence. They had stories. They had purpose. But because of you, they vanished without a trace."
"From the very beginning, we've danced to your tune—performers on a stage you built, wearing heels that never stop clicking against the floor. We dance until our skin splits, until blood soaks the stage and bone scrapes the ground… and still, you're not satisfied!"
The Dark Watcher jabbed a trembling finger at Alex's face, eyes ablaze with fury.
"I once believed that if we just told you better stories… if we tried harder to entertain you… maybe we could earn a sliver of freedom. A moment of happiness. But what did we get?"
"Your corruption spilled across the multiverse like ink. Peaceful worlds drowned in blood and chaos. And in that moment, I realized: you never wanted beauty. You never wanted meaning. You only wanted one thing—something to feel in your dull little lives."
"There's nothing more thrilling than watching someone else suffer, is there? You've grown tired of 'hero slays dragon.' Now you want to see the hero become the next monster."
"So be it."
The Dark Watcher slowly lifted his gaze, a grotesque smile creeping across his face.
"If we cannot escape… then we'll end it all. Yes, our power is nothing compared to yours—but with your power, we can finally do what we never dreamed possible."
"You wondered why we lured you here, to this reality… why we used Deadpool to bait you into our trap."
"By now, you should understand."
He raised his arms like a prophet before an altar, face turned skyward in mock reverence.
"It was your contamination that severed this timeline from the rest of the multiverse—turning it into a 'Sacred Timeline,' isolated and pure."
"And now, you want to stitch it back in. Merge it with the multiverse once more."
"The only question left is… will you succeed this time?"
...
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