Just before we begin…. This was a tough chapter for me to write. You'll get what I mean at the end. And I have to apologize in advance for the fate that befalls Xavier since he's burned all his bridges. You'll know what I mean when you get to that part.
…
X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 1, Fractured Realities
Chapter 18: The Batman Who Laughs and The Son of War
…
Logan found a quiet corner on Krakoa, the morning light casting a soft glow on the seemingly natural technology woven into the island's fabric. This was one of the few spots he'd rigged with communication capabilities that could reach beyond Krakoa's confines.
His grizzled features softened as the familiar figures of Jean Grey and Storm appeared on the screen. Jean, with her fiery red hair and strong gaze, was projected in front of the new construction site that once was Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Storm, her white hair flowing like a specter, flanked her side, a strategic planner overseeing the logistics of their ambitious project.
"Morning," Logan greeted, his voice deep and gruff as he addressed the two women. "How's the progress?"
Their digital likenesses turned to him, their expressions warm. They were hundreds of miles away, but the screen bridged the gap, making the distance feel negligible.
Their new school was more than just a construction project, it was a symbol of resilience and determination. Each piece of structure was a testament to their enduring spirit and commitment to a safer world for mutants. This school was the heart of their vision, and every step they took was leading them towards a better future, despite the banishment from Krakoa.
"We've made good progress," Jean began, her voice brimming with optimism. "Norman Osborn has been an unexpected ally. Despite our history, he's proving himself. SHIELD has been assisting as well. We're doing it right this time, Logan."
Storm added, her eyes reflecting the same determination that echoed in Jean's voice. "And we're doing it together. We're keeping the heart of Xavier's dream alive, but we're not ignoring the mistakes of the past."
Logan's eyes softened at their words, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of pride. He nodded appreciatively, "Good. That's what we need."
There was a brief silence before Logan continued. "We've had some new arrivals. Geralt, a Witcher from another universe, a few more displaced beings who were helping misunderstood creatures escape a cruel fate in their own world. Then there's Arya and Jon, from some place called Westeros, and Deadpool... Well, you know Wade."
Storm raised an eyebrow, while Jean merely smiled, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Well, it certainly sounds like you have a colorful crew there, Logan."
Logan chuckled, "That's one way to put it. They're all settling in well enough. Krakoa may be for mutants, but it's become a sanctuary for all sorts."
…
"The Baron and his family, huh?" Jean mused, tilting her head slightly as she processed the new information. "Can't say I ever expected to hear about a reformed man from another world taking up residence on Krakoa. But, in times like these, I suppose we must expect the unexpected."
Storm added, "And a succubus named Salma, a troll called Trollololo, and a changeling... Well, they're certainly not the type of beings we're used to dealing with, but I'm glad they've found a safe haven."
Logan couldn't help but grin at their reactions, "Yeah, they're something else alright. Especially Salma and Trollololo. Not exactly what you'd expect from their kind, if you catch my drift."
Jean chuckled, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, "I can only imagine, Logan."
Storm gave a nod of understanding, a gentle smile on her face. "In any case, it's good to know that they're safe and welcomed. Krakoa may have started as a haven for mutants, but it's become so much more than that."
"Couldn't have put it better myself, 'Ro," Logan agreed, his voice warm. The bond they shared remained strong, despite the distance and the complex weave of events that had led them all to this point.
The screens on the walls faded to black as the communication link was cut, leaving Logan alone in the quiet room. He let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of contentment that he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Krakoa had grown beyond their wildest dreams. No longer just a refuge for mutants, but a sanctuary for those displaced by the forces beyond their control. They had been forced to look beyond their past mistakes, to build a future that was fair for all.
And it was all thanks to Derreck, the son of the God Creator of the Dark Multiverse and Mistress Death. His guidance, his vision, and his unyielding belief in a better future had been the catalyst for this change. Without him, they might still be stuck in their old ways.
As Logan moved towards the council chambers, he saw his alternate mother from the Dark Multiverse engaged in conversation with the other Logan, the one with the metallic arm. The sight brought a small smile to his face. Despite their differences, despite their varied pasts, they had found common ground on Krakoa. It was a testament to what they had built here.
Entering the main hall, he looked around at the faces of the council members and their guests. They all had a voice here, they all had a say in shaping the future. And as he looked at them, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him. They had faced down their fears, confronted their past, and emerged stronger. For the first time in a long time, he felt hope. And that was a feeling he was going to hold onto.
…
On Saturday, Logan found himself at the usual meeting spot for the therapy group he had set up with Captain America. It was a support group for wounded veterans, a place where they could share their experiences, their fears, and their hopes. Logan had always felt a deep connection to this group. He understood the pain of loss, the struggle to adapt to a world that felt different, the determination to keep going despite the odds.
This time, however, he had brought along a special guest. As he walked in, he could see the surprise on the faces of the veterans as they recognized the figure walking in behind him. It was Alex Murphy, also known as Robocop, from the 2014 film.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the room erupted in a mixture of laughter and cheer. Murphy, despite his robotic exterior, had always been a symbol of resilience and strength. His story was a tale of a man who had lost everything, but found a way to keep going, to keep fighting for justice.
Murphy, with his mechanical precision, greeted everyone with a respectful nod, a soft smile curving the corners of his mouth. As the session progressed, he shared his own experiences, his own struggles with loss and adaptation. His words resonated with the group, who listened with rapt attention.
For that day, the room was filled not just with shared pain, but also with shared strength and resilience. It was another successful meeting for the therapy group, a day that brought smiles to the faces of veterans who had been through so much. And to Logan, it was another reminder of why they had started this group in the first place.
…
Time progressed, and with it came changes. One such change that stood out to everyone on the island was the blossoming relationship between Salma and the changeling. He had chosen the form of a handsome young man, with his eyes reflecting the wisdom and mystery that was characteristic of his kind.
Their interactions were filled with laughter, gentle teasing, and affectionate touches. They spent a lot of time together, exploring the island, learning about each other, and simply enjoying each other's company. It was clear to everyone that they were falling for each other, and it was heartening to see.
Despite the strangeness of the world they had found themselves in, they had found something precious - they had found love in each other. Their relationship was a bright spot, a beacon of warmth and hope that reminded everyone that amidst chaos and uncertainty, there was room for joy, love, and contentment.
Watching them, Logan couldn't help but smile. In this universe filled with heroes and villains, with battles and conflicts, it was moments like these that made everything worth it. It was the proof that life goes on, that love can bloom in the unlikeliest of places, and that happiness can be found even in the midst of turmoil.
In one corner of the common room, Lego Batman was absorbed in his latest project - a contraption that looked like a conglomeration of a television screen, a console, and several circuits, all rendered in brightly colored Lego blocks. The most conspicuous part of the design was the inclusion of a flux capacitor, giving it an undeniable Back to the Future flair.
The device suddenly hummed to life, casting a light that drew the attention of Logan, Marty McFly, Tamara, Deadpool, Shangeroth, Maggi, and Negan. Lego Batman looked up from his work and flashed a triumphant smile, clearly pleased with the result.
"This," he announced, gesturing to the now functioning device, "is going to help us predict where the next conjunctions are going to occur." He adjusted his Lego bat glasses and continued, "I've incorporated some Robocop tech in it too for additional stability and precision."
The announcement was met with a mixture of surprise and admiration. The group moved closer, intrigued by the prospect of such a tool. The conjunctions had brought a fair share of problems, but also friendships and newfound allies. Being able to predict them would certainly make things more manageable.
"Well done, Batman," Logan said, grinning as he clapped Lego Batman on the shoulder. "This will make a hell of a difference." The Lego superhero simply nodded, his face serious as ever, but a glint in his eye hinted at his satisfaction with the accomplishment.
"Speaking of which..." Marty trailed off, peering at the screen which had started to flicker. The readings were unmistakable - an incursion, and it was happening on Arrako. Apocalypse and his group of Arrako mutants had made the island their sanctuary, away from Krakoa and the other mutants.
"Looks like we've got some new arrivals," Marty said, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and caution. These conjunction events, while often bringing friends, could also bring unforeseen dangers.
With that, the group rose from their seats, their faces set in determined expressions. It was time to investigate this latest incursion. As they exited the room, each member mentally prepared themselves for whatever, or whoever, this new conjunction had brought to their universe.
Once they reached Arrako, they were greeted by the imposing figure of Apocalypse and a few other mutants. The island's unique, rugged landscape stretched out behind them, a testament to the harsh, survival-oriented community that lived there.
"Logan," Apocalypse began in his deep, resonating voice, "A young teenager named Atreus appeared in the conjunction, accompanied by a woman named Angraboda. There was also a girl, who claims to be a daughter of Thor."
The news was met with a few surprised glances, but mostly nods of understanding. It was no longer surprising to find figures from different worlds, even those tied to the gods, appearing in their universe due to the conjunctions.
"Very well," Logan said, his expression serious. "We should meet them, see if they need any help."
With that, the group followed Apocalypse deeper into the island, ready to welcome these new arrivals.
The rough-hewn landscape of Arrako opened up to a clearing where a small encampment had been established. The newest arrivals to the island were already being tended to by Apocalypse and his dedicated team of mutants.
Atreus, a young boy with a wise soul residing in his youthful gaze, looked up as they approached. His hands were occupied by a beautifully crafted bow, his fingers deftly turning an arrow over and over again. Beside him stood Angraboda, a striking figure radiating an aura of tranquility and strength. The way her gaze analyzed their approach, the clear intelligence and understanding in her eyes, spoke of a mind that was accustomed to navigating uncharted territories. And then, there was a young girl, her body crackling with an energy that mirrored Thor's own. The electricity danced along her fingertips, the golden strands of her hair standing on end.
As Logan stepped forward, his demeanor was comforting and familiar, "Welcome to Arrako, folks," he began, his voice holding a calming quality to it. "My name's Logan, and these here are my friends."
He gestured to each of his companions in turn, giving a quick introduction. He then proceeded to explain the situation they found themselves in. How they were no longer in their world, their universe, or even their multiverse. They had been caught in a conjunction, a strange overlapping of multiverses that had brought them to this place in a larger Omniverse.
The news was met with initial shock and disbelief, as was typically the case. The very fabric of their understanding of reality had been shifted, after all. But as the truth of Logan's words sunk in, they seemed to find a semblance of acceptance. Their own experiences from their home worlds, perhaps, preparing them for such a turn of events.
Logan sought to reassure them further, "You're safe here. This is a sanctuary for folks like us, swept up by the current of the multiverse and washed ashore here. We'll do everything we can to make this place a home for you, while we figure out a way to get you back where you belong."
Angraboda raised a hand, her eyes narrowing slightly, "And what assurances do we have that you speak truthfully?"
Geralt, having been quietly observing up till now, stepped forward. "You have my word," he stated firmly, locking eyes with Angraboda, "And I do not give it lightly."
Salma and the others chimed in too, offering words of assurance and empathy. Their sincerity was palpable and seemed to put the new arrivals somewhat at ease. As they sat around a communal fire, sharing stories and experiences from their own universes, they fostered a sense of camaraderie. It was the beginning of another unique chapter in the ever-evolving story of their Omniversal Sanctuary.
Logan chewed on his lower lip, a subtle indication of the nervousness he felt before asking the question that had been nagging him. He directed his gaze towards Angraboda, who was attentively listening to Salma recount a tale from her own universe.
"Angraboda," he began, catching her attention. She turned towards him, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire. "There's been somethin' naggin' at me since you told us your name."
She gave a small nod, signaling him to continue.
"Do you...do you happen to know a fella named Loki?" Logan's voice held an odd note of trepidation, and his gaze was intent upon her, as if he was trying to see past her calm demeanor to find answers. "The reason I ask is because... well, we have a Loki here, and he once mentioned that his wife... his wife's name was Angraboda."
For a moment, silence fell upon the group, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Angraboda's eyes widened slightly, and then her expression changed to one of intense contemplation as she processed the question.
The others around the fire held their breath, waiting for her response. The coincidences of the multiverse had surprised them many times before, but this... this could bring a new twist to their already intricate saga.
The question hung in the air, and the reactions it sparked were varied and telling. Atreus shifted uncomfortably, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a look of confusion and apprehension. The revelation hit him hard, having developed feelings for Angraboda. His brows furrowed as he tried to process the information. He cast a sidelong glance at Angraboda, watching her expression for any sign of what she might be thinking.
Salma blinked in surprise, a slight gasp escaping her lips as her eyes darted between Logan and Angraboda. Her gaze held an empathetic understanding, having been through her own unexpected twists since arriving in this new universe.
Geralt remained silent, his eyes narrowed as he studied Angraboda. His years of experience as a witcher had taught him to observe and understand people, and he was trying to decipher what this revelation might mean for their newly-arrived companion.
Even the stoic Apocolypse shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable but his interest in the revelation was apparent. He remained silent, though, allowing Angraboda the space to respond.
The silence that followed was a tangible tension, a silence filled with a mix of anxiety, anticipation, and apprehension. Angraboda's answer to Logan's question was waited on with bated breath.
Angraboda paused, carefully selecting her words, her gaze shifting between Atreus and Thrudd. She cleared her throat before she finally started to speak.
"We come from a place known as Midgard," she began, her voice bearing the distinct timbre of an experienced storyteller. "In our universe, Loki...he's not the trickster god as your stories depict him. He is a force of change, undoubtedly, but not always manifested as chaos and destruction."
Atreus, whom she referred to as Loki, nodded in affirmation. "My father...he was a warrior by the name of Kratos," he revealed, his gaze distant as if he was sifting through a plethora of memories. "He was a Spartan warrior, a Ghost of Sparta, who found himself at war with the gods of our world, including Thor."
Thrudd, the young girl who claimed to be Thor's daughter, looked at Atreus with a curious expression on her face before addressing the group. "My father, Thor, was far from the heroic figure your tales describe. He was relentless... and dangerous. But towards the end, he stood up to Odin, and it cost him his life."
The group fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with the stark reality of a universe vastly different from their own.
Salma broke the silence, her voice a soft note of understanding. "We've all been ripped from our homes and thrust into this new reality. None of us truly know what we're dealing with, but we are dealing with it together."
Angraboda nodded in gratitude, a determined glint in her eyes. "Your understanding is much appreciated. We'll do our best to adapt to this new world, with your guidance."
Logan leaned back, deep in thought. "We'll sail these troubled waters together. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."
Atreus cast a worried glance towards Logan and the others. "There's something else I should mention. My friend Fenrir, who is more like a pet dog to me, and Thrudd's mother... we were together when we got thrown into this world, but we got separated. Could you please keep an eye out for them?"
Logan responded with a nod, fully grasping the gravity of the request. "We will. If they're here, we'll find them."
As their departure neared, Thrudd extended her hand towards the sky. There was a brief hush, a palpable sense of expectation, before the air vibrated with a rumble of thunder. A dazzling light pierced through the clouds, and in its midst, a majestic hammer materialised in her hand.
The hammer was colossal, meant for a wielder of great strength. Its long, sturdy handle was intricately etched with Norse runes, and its pommel bore the image of a snarling wolf. The head of the hammer was forged from a block of Uru, a material renowned for its enchantment-retaining abilities and sheer indestructibility. Sparks of electricity danced around the hammer, imbuing the surrounding air with an electrifying aura.
It was an awe-inspiring sight, one that commanded reverence. Despite her youth, Thrudd held the hammer with a firm grip that spoke of her lineage and fortitude.
"This is Mjölnir," Thrudd said, a determined tone resonating in her voice, mirrored by the set of her eyes. "The hammer of Thor, my father."
…
Atreus's brows furrowed in confusion when the name Hercules was mentioned. "Hercules?" he echoed, his voice holding a note of uncertainty. "The Hercules I know...the one my father battled...he wasn't anyone's idea of a hero."
Logan nodded in understanding, recognizing the confusion written all over Atreus's face. "This isn't the same Hercules you're familiar with, Atreus. He's from a different world... it's less bleak than the version of Greece you're accustomed to."
Aragorn, the King of Gondor, interjected. "The Hercules we're acquainted with, he's a bona fide hero. Not just for his strength and courage, but for his honor and heart."
"Exactly," Logan chimed in, "This Hercules has committed himself to being a true hero, and not just because of his god-like power or incredible feats, but through his compassion, integrity, and commitment to justice."
Mario, having just left the kitchen, approached them with a tray of his world-famous Mushroom Pizza. "He's a good man, Atreus," he affirmed, his Italian accent thick, "You'll see when you meet him."
Dettlaff, who had been quietly observing the conversation, added his voice to the chorus. "He's one of us," he confirmed, "This Hercules is an ally."
With the game plan in place and a clearer understanding of the unique blend of characters they were dealing with, they prepared to leave. Deadpool checked his arsenal of dual katanas and pistols, Negan swung his signature spiked baseball bat with an air of readiness, and Aragorn gave a nod, signaling his preparedness.
Taking the compass from Geralt's hands, Atreus closed his eyes, picturing Fenrir and Thrudd's mother clearly in his mind. His grip tightened on the device as he wished with all his might to find them. Slowly, he felt a pull and opened his eyes, the compass needle was now pointing unwaveringly towards a specific direction.
"Muspelheim..." Atreus murmured, a sudden edge creeping into his voice. He looked up at the others, his gaze landing on Logan who was already watching him with a grim expression.
Logan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's Surtur's realm," he explained, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of warning. "He's a threat to all the Nine Realms. All he cares about is destruction and chaos."
Atreus's eyes widened in concern at the mention of this Surtur. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Logan shook his head. "It's not something wrong with him per se. That's just who he is, Atreus. Surtur is a force of destruction. His sole desire is to burn down the Nine Realms, nothing more, nothing less."
Upon hearing Logan's warning, Atreus felt a pang of shock. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to reconcile this image of Surtur with the one he remembered from his own realm. The destructive fire giant Logan described seemed worlds away from the Surtur he had encountered in his own world.
"Surtur?" Atreus echoed, his voice wavering slightly. "But... that's... that's not the Surtur I know. The one I know isn't... he's not like that."
Logan simply shrugged, "Different universes, kid. Different versions. The Surtur here is bad news, through and through."
Processing this information, Atreus gripped the compass tighter. His mind was swirling with concern for Fenrir and Thrudd's mother, now potentially in the midst of this malicious version of Surtur. Yet, they had no other choice. Time was of the essence and they couldn't afford to dally.
"So, we'll have to tread carefully... but we can't waste time. They're out there, possibly in danger," Atreus resolved, his words holding a certain steeliness that resonated with the rest of the group. "We have to move, and fast."
…
As the group arrived to rendezvous with Lady Sif, they were met with a striking image. This world's Sif, a renowned warrior of Asgard, was a far cry from Thrudd's mother from the God of War universe. Instead of the gruff, no-nonsense demeanor they were accustomed to, this Sif was refined and noble, adorned in elaborate Asgardian armor, her long hair neatly styled.
Atreus, Thrudd, and Angerboda exchanged puzzled glances, before their eyes turned back to Sif, a silent understanding passing among them. They each held their respective images of Thrudd's mother in their minds, comparing the vastly different iterations of the same character. This was not the Sif they knew, but it was clear that she was every bit as formidable.
Loki, on the other hand, was having a lively chat with Atreus, both seemingly intrigued by each other. They swapped stories and experiences, a rare camaraderie forming between them. While Loki was known to be a trickster, his intentions appeared to be genuine in this instance, which provided some level of comfort amidst the strange and unfamiliar circumstances.
When it came time to leave, Sif stood before them, a radiant figure against the backdrop of Asgard. She would guide them to Muspelheim, to find Fenrir and Thrudd's mother. Despite the potential danger of Surtur's realm, there was a sense of determination among the group - they would face whatever they had to in order to reunite their friends with their family.
As they ventured deeper into the hellish landscape of Muspelheim, a palpable sense of unease hung in the air. It was thick, almost tangible, a foreboding energy that sent shivers down their spines. Something was terribly amiss.
The sight that greeted them in the depths of this realm was unexpected. Surtur, the destructive fire giant known for his insatiable desire for destruction, was in a state of utter disarray. His flaming sword was impaled through his massive form, anchoring him helplessly to the wall. His once formidable figure now reduced to a pitiful display.
Around him, the once fearsome creatures of Muspelheim were scattered, broken, a testament to some cataclysmic battle that had taken place. The realm itself felt like a wounded beast, limping and scarred.
But what was most startling was the look in Surtur's eyes. There was no defiance, no rage. Instead, they saw fear. His fiery gaze darted around wildly, a trapped animal desperate for escape. The formidable destroyer of realms appeared scared, a sight that was as baffling as it was disconcerting.
It was a haunting scene that prompted a wave of questions. What could have possibly happened here to reduce Surtur to such a state? And more importantly, where were Fenrir and Sif, Thrudd's mother? Their eyes scanned the area, alert for any signs of their missing companions.
Just then, Geralt, Dettlaff, and Logan picked up a unique scent. It was eerily similar to Lego Batman, yet it held a more organic quality, with an underlying note of something unhinged and deranged.
Suddenly, an unsettling laughter echoed throughout the realm, bouncing off the fiery walls and sending a chill down everyone's spine.
"Well now, isn't this lovely?" came a voice, high pitched and infused with mania. It echoed eerily, bouncing off the scorched, molten walls of Muspelheim. "The omniverse really is a massive place, with things not even I could have foreseen, HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The laughter echoed again, filling the silence left by the revelation of Surtur's defeat. It was an unexpected, eerie sound in this devastated realm, adding a new layer of unpredictability to their quest. The laughter held a touch of lunacy, of wild delight in chaos, that suggested an unpredictable and possibly dangerous new player in this twisted game.
The group quickly fell into defensive stances, hands on weapons and senses heightened in preparation for an imminent threat.
"Show yourself!" Logan growled, his eyes scanning the shadows for the owner of the voice.
In response, the laughter intensified, echoing off the fiery walls of the realm. Then, as if materializing from the darkness itself, a figure stepped forward. He was a chilling sight to behold - clad in a tattered, spiked version of Batman's usual attire, with bloodshot eyes glowing a malevolent red behind a domino mask. His skin was chalk white and his mouth was frozen in a wide, unsettling grin, showcasing a set of dangerously sharp teeth. The stranger's entire demeanor was a disturbingly twisted caricature of Batman - a sight that none of the group was prepared for.
"I am the Batman Who Laughs," the figure finally spoke, his voice a rasping echo that sent shivers down their spines.
This was a Batman none of them knew, a version who had embraced madness and chaos, whose laughter filled their ears and hearts with dread. The team exchanged worried glances. This was a new player in the game, an unpredictable factor that could tilt the scales in anyone's favor.
Ignoring their demanding inquiries, the Batman Who Laughs instead turned his unsettling gaze to Geralt. He seemed fascinated by the Witcher's aura, intrigued by the unique darkness that clung to him. It was as if he was examining a specimen, a scientific curiosity that demanded further exploration.
"You... You've been touched by a darkness... Something I don't recognize... Interesting," he said, a tinge of wonderment mixed with his raspy laughter. His glowing red eyes bore into Geralt, who stood his ground, his fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching.
"Well, you'll find there's plenty you don't know, Batman," Geralt replied coolly, fixing the deranged doppelgänger with a steely gaze.
The Batman Who Laughs chuckled, the sound grating and inhuman. "Perhaps," he mused. "But isn't it more fun this way? Unveiling the mysteries, one by one... All the dark corners of the Omniverse ripe for exploration."
His words hung in the air, an unnerving reminder of the chaos that this figure represented, the unknown threats they were yet to face.
"Enough with your riddles and obscurities!" Sif interjected, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with determination and ire. "Where is she... Where is Fenrir?"
The Batman Who Laughs looked amused, his horrifying grin widening as he inclined his head slightly, an unnerving show of mock respect. "The lady knight demands answers... such fire, such passion. But perhaps," he added, drawing out the words with delight, "you're not ready to hear the truth."
Ignoring the creeping sense of dread that washed over them, Sif held her ground, her resolve unyielding. "Tell me," she growled.
He simply chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed in the vast, cold space of Muspelheim. "All in due time, dear knight," he said, his gaze flitting between Sif and the others. "All in due time. But for now, you've got bigger problems..."
With that, he gestured behind them. As they turned, they saw Surtr slowly rise, pulling the sword from his body with a roar of pain and rage. His eyes blazed with fury, and it was clear the fight was far from over.
The agonized roar of Surtr echoed throughout the realm as he swung his flaming sword with all his might, directly at The Batman Who Laughs. Everyone froze, their breaths hitching in their throats as they watched the scene unfold. But instead of being cut down, The Batman Who Laughs simply pulled a small, sinister-looking device from his pocket.
With a flick of his wrist, he activated the device and threw it at Surtr. It exploded into a brilliant burst of energy upon contact with the fire giant, and Surtr's cry of pain reverberated off the rocky walls.
"I'M ON FIRE! WHY DOES IT HURT! AAAAHHHHH!" Surtr bellowed, falling to his knees and clutching his chest where the device had hit. His own flames, usually a source of his immense power, seemed to be causing him excruciating pain.
The Batman Who Laughs erupted into a fit of terrifying laughter, his eyes gleaming with malicious joy as he watched Surtr's torment. "What's the matter, Surtr?" he taunted. "Can't handle a little heat?" His laughter echoed around them, a cruel soundtrack to the fire giant's agony.
Atreus, his hands steady despite the chaos around them, notched an arrow onto his bowstring and let it fly with a determined shout, "I WON'T LET YOU HURT HIM NEEDLESSLY!" The arrow zipped through the air, aimed directly at The Batman Who Laughs.
Thrudd, Logan, Geralt, and Deadpool all moved into action, stepping forward in unison, ready to confront this new enemy. But The Batman Who Laughs merely tilted his head, watching them all with an unsettling smile that never reached his crazed eyes.
Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an object that made Atreus, Thrudd, and Angeraboda's blood run cold. It was a broken piece of a mask, unmistakably similar to the one that Atreus had shattered in their own universe which led to the discovery of higher existence.
"No, it can't be..." Atreus muttered, his eyes wide with shock. The Batman Who Laughs merely chuckled, twirling the mask piece in his fingers. His laughter filled the air, promising a new wave of chaos and destruction.
"Not many would have faced me with such courage... I admire that, boy..." The Batman Who Laughs began, his voice eerily calm amidst the chaos. He glanced at Atreus, his crazed eyes filled with a twisted sense of amusement.
He then turned his attention to Logan, a sinister smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm going to go now, but before I do, I'll let you all, especially Logan, in on some advice... You ever wonder what was behind the rift? Well... here's your answer..."
The air around them grew heavy as he paused, savoring the moment. "Ask the one before you, called Logan, about his little incursion into that dark multiverse... And the serpent that made him shiver in fear like a caged animal..."
With that, he casually tossed the broken mask fragment onto the ground. The object clattered against the stone, the sound echoing throughout the cave. Before any of them could react, The Batman Who Laughs disappeared into a rift, his chilling laughter the only evidence of his existence. The silence that followed was deafening, each one of them processing the cryptic message he'd left behind.
Logan's shoulders visibly sagged as he tried to hold his trembling under control. "The Serpent," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's a fallen entity from a higher plane of existence, what some call 'The Core'. He was cast out for his malevolence, his wickedness, which has birthed all the evil in every universe."
His eyes flickered, a spark of unspeakable fear dancing within them. "The Serpent takes the form of a dragon-like beast... He is beyond dangerous, beyond our comprehension. A master of deception, he whispers promises of knowledge and power into the ears of the unsuspecting...but what he truly bestows is death and anguish."
At this, Geralt stiffened, his face taking on a ghostly pallor as the gravity of Logan's words sank in. His world, his very existence, shaped by the entity known as O'Dimm, was in fact a creation of this Serpent. As per the Serpent's own taunts, O'Dimm was nothing but a feeble shadow, a failed creation that did not even begin to compare to the dreadful power of the Serpent and his demonic minions. The looming threat they were now facing was incomprehensibly dire, far surpassing any danger they had ever known.
Thrudd, Atreus, and Angrboda shared a glance, each harboring their own turmoil at the horrifying revelation. Their expressions hardened in tandem, an understanding passing among them, the dire circumstances amplifying their determination.
Atreus swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His mind raced back to his encounter with the rift, recalling the eerie fascination it held. Now, with Logan's words echoing in his ears, a sense of dread intermingled with a strange relief.
"I..." he started, his voice faltering. Taking a steadying breath, he continued, "I came close to peering into that rift. It promised...answers. Power, even." His gaze shifted to the discarded mask fragment on the ground. "I'm suddenly very glad I chose not to."
Thrudd placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering him a sympathetic nod. Angrboda mirrored her actions, her eyes glinting with a grim understanding. They were all together in this, facing an enemy more terrifying than they could have ever imagined. But they were together, and that would have to be enough.
Surtur's massive form swayed, his fiery eyes dimmed by the brutal assault he had just endured. He pulled his flaming sword out of himself, a low grumble of pain rumbling from his chest. His gaze turned to the group, a new layer of understanding etched deep within his eyes.
"If what he speaks is the truth," Surtur began, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous space. The fire that encapsulated him flickered, its wild dance casting eerie shadows around them. "Then this realm has no desire to hold onto such...things."
The fire giant paused, surveying each of them in turn before he continued, "I will release the alternate Fenrir and Sif into your custody. My concerns... they remain with my realm and its safety."
His flaming eyes lingered on Atreus, Thrudd, and Angrboda, something akin to regret glimmering in their fiery depths. Surtur gave a curt nod, acknowledging their shared understanding. The enemy they were now facing was far greater than any of them could have imagined. For now, their quarrels with one another were insignificant in comparison to the impending threat. The survival of their realms was what truly mattered.
…
Back on kroakoa
Back on Krakoa, the group returned with their new additions - Atreus, Angrboda, Thrudd, Fenrir and their Sif. The sprawling, sentient landmass of Krakoa gave them a warm welcome, its tree-like form shifting and swaying in response to their arrival.
Yennefer, who had been anxiously awaiting their return, ran up to Geralt and embraced him tightly. Her eyes were a mixture of relief and worry as she took in the new faces, realizing the magnitude of the situation they were facing.
As Logan explained the disturbing events that had unfolded, detailing their encounter with the unnerving Batman doppelganger and the hint at a greater evil that lurked in the shadows, a heavy silence fell over the group.
Negan, who had been listening intently, let out a long, slow whistle, his face pale. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide. "Well, ain't this a fine mess?" he muttered, staring off into the distance. "I think I need a drink," he announced, his voice shaky.
His announcement was met with a few weak smiles and nods. For once, they all shared Negan's sentiment. They had glimpsed a side of the multiverse that was darker and more terrifying than anything they could have ever imagined. Now, they had to figure out what to do about it.
Observing the scene before him, Atreus couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of Laura and Derreck, comfortably nested among the natural surroundings of Krakoa, their children cradled in their arms. The twins, Orion and Aorara, were holding on to their respective blue and pink monoliths, toys that appeared to be much more than mere child's playthings.
"This was all caused by your daughter...waving around her toy?" Atreus asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze fixated on the small, sleeping girl resting on Laura's shoulder, her tiny fingers clasped around the glowing pink monolith.
"Yes," Laura confirmed, her voice soft and filled with love as she stroked Aorara's hair gently. "She was born with it. We didn't understand at first what it could do, but we soon realized it had...immense power."
"And it seems," Derreck interjected, his tone light despite the weight of the situation, "That our little girl has quite the knack for bringing people together from across the omniverse."
Their casual acceptance of their extraordinary circumstance brought forth a sense of awe in Atreus. He couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the strange, beautiful chaos that had come into being from something as innocent as a child's plaything.
To the side, Sif was deeply engaged in conversation with Ember's Mist, the wife of Tenebrous, Derreck's nephew from the dark multiverse. The saga of Tenebrous' rebellion against his monstrous father, Shrowd, was a tale heavy with tragedy and heroism. Mist, despite her own evident sorrow, conveyed it with a quiet dignity that was impossible not to respect.
As she absorbed the details, Sif found herself drawing parallels between Thor's heroic stand against Odin and Tenebrous' final confrontation with Shrowd. Both had stood against the oppressive powers that sought to control them, both had paid the ultimate price. The symmetry of their stories gave her pause, adding an unexpected depth to the connections between these diverse universes.
Meanwhile, Thrudd found herself in the company of Ember's Shadow. Despite the imposing figure and ethereal aura of Shadow, she was a gentle soul, her actions reflecting a kindness that Thrudd found endearing. Not too far away, her brother, Luminous Frost, was also garnering attention with his sturdy form and radiant presence. His raw energy was captivating, making Thrudd feel an unexpected attraction towards him. His unique appearance coupled with his intriguing personality left a lasting impression, bringing a certain allure that Thrudd could not ignore.
…
Somewhere else, in a place shrouded in shadows and ill-intentions, the Batman Who Laughs approached the forlorn figure of Charles Xavier. The fallen Professor X, his usual countenance of calm wisdom replaced by a haunted and bald-headed figure of despair, was the object of his cruel amusement.
"Well, well, well," the Batman Who Laughs said, his voice a dark symphony of cruelty and mockery. "Look at you, Charles. You've lost it all, haven't you? You're alone, forgotten, abandoned by your so-called allies. Such a recurring theme for you in this multiverse, isn't it?"
Xavier, despite the shroud of defeat and despair that hung over him, didn't flinch at the cruel words. He simply sat there, in the stark loneliness that his world had become, staring into the abyss that was the Batman Who Laughs.
"And the best part," the Batman Who Laughs continued, a wild, manic grin spreading across his grotesque features, "you brought this all upon yourself. You made your bed and now you're lying in it, utterly alone and helpless."
The Batman Who Laughs paused, soaking in the sight of Xavier's despair, before he prodded again. "So tell me, Charles. How does that make you feel?" He let the question hang in the air, a painful reminder of Xavier's fall from grace and the destruction of everything he had once held dear.
As the Batman Who Laughs taunted Charles, an invisible surge of psychic energy lashed out, aiming to strike at the deranged vigilante's mind. The intent was clear, but the execution was pitifully ineffective. The psychic attack ricocheted, instead causing a feedback loop that ricocheted back onto Charles himself.
Pain coursed through Xavier's mind as his attack backfired, a grimace of discomfort etched on his face. He gritted his teeth, the intensity of his futile attempts to combat the Batman Who Laughs only serving to worsen his condition.
Seeing Xavier's failed attempt and the subsequent backlash, the Batman Who Laughs let out another wild, mirthless laugh. His laughter echoed through the desolate space, amplifying the crushing sense of despair that already hung heavy in the air.
"Ah, Charles," he cackled, eyes glinting with cruel amusement, "That was your fifth try, wasn't it? I've got to commend you on your perseverance. But as you've seen, it's all in vain." His laughter rang out again, a bitter symphony that marked Charles Xavier's continued downfall.
The Batman Who Laughs leaned in, his chaotic laughter dying down as he prepared to impart his cruel intentions.
"Charles," he began, his voice a dark purr in the ominous silence, "I want you to understand something very clearly. I'm going to break you. Slowly. Excruciatingly."
A chilling smile spread across his face, "Every single one of your thoughts will scream in agony. Each memory, every idea, every last shred of hope... I will tear them apart. And you'll feel it all."
"But here's the best part," his eyes sparked with an unholy glee, "After you've been reduced to nothing, after you've lost every single thing you are... I'll bring you back."
He circled around Xavier, his movements prowling and predatory, "And then I'm going to do it all over again. Over and over and over, an eternal cycle of torment and despair."
He moved close to Xavier, the unnerving sound of his laughter once again filling the air, "You're mine now, Charles. And I'm going to enjoy every second of your suffering."
"You're not alone though, Charles," The Batman Who Laughs said, a sickening sweetness in his tone. "Allow me to introduce you to your new friends..."
He gestured behind him, and one by one, figures emerged from the darkness.
First, there was a comical figure made entirely of Lego blocks, dressed in an unmistakably vibrant purple suit. His face was a ghastly white with a green, painted smile. "Meet Lego Joker, he's always game for a bit of fun."
Next, shrouded figures drifted forward, their eerie glow radiating an aura of dread. "The Ringwraiths and their legions of Orcs," he said, his voice echoing ominously, "They're always ready for some carnage."
Following them, a large, mechanical figure stomped forward, its red eyes blazing with a dangerous intellect. "Megatron, master of science and force alike. He'll make sure you're pieced back together, after each session."
And finally, from the shadows, emerged a tall figure, a swirling mass of darkness, his eyes a striking, glaring green. "And last, but certainly not least, Aku, the shapeshifting master of darkness. His talents are... quite varied."
The Batman Who Laughs chuckled, a sound that sent shivers of fear down one's spine. "I do hope you'll enjoy their company, Charles. After all, they'll be the last things you see... every single time."
"But before we begin," The Batman Who Laughs added, suddenly turning serious. "There's something you must see." He gestured, and figures stepped forward from the shadows, their silhouettes familiar.
Logan. Jean. Scott. Ororo. Even his dear friend, Erik. They were all there, their faces blank, their eyes vacant. Clones. Resurrected puppets.
"I'll be using them to dismantle everything you love, Charles," he hissed, his voice brimming with malicious delight. "I'll crush every little dream you ever had, every friendship you've ever built, and I'll do it using the faces of the ones you hold dear."
As he spoke, he circled Xavier, his every word dripping with venom. Suddenly, he knelt beside the helpless man, a cruel smile on his face. "And the best part? You'll be here to watch it all. Every. Single. Moment."
With a swift, brutal motion, he stabbed something sharp into Charles' spine. Pain exploded through him, making his vision blur, his body convulse. "But don't worry," The Batman Who Laughs whispered into his ear, his voice filled with perverse pleasure. "I won't kill you... yet. I want you to suffer, helplessly, just like you are now... crippled."
He straightened, looking down at Xavier with a gleam in his eyes that was nothing short of psychotic. "Welcome to your own personal hell, Charles Xavier." He laughed, his voice echoing around the room, each sound a chilling promise of the horrors to come.