X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 2, Omniverse Saga
Chapter 3: The Batman Who Laughs, The Clones, and Batman's Arrival
…
As morning light broke, it carried an uncharacteristic intensity, searing through the gaps in the curtains. Philippa Eilhart and Fringilla Vigo found themselves stirring from a restless sleep, heads throbbing as if they were the anvil beneath a blacksmith's hammer.
Managing to rise, both women groggily navigated the familiar spaces of their accommodations, a sense of shared suffering between them. The hangover from the previous night's revelry felt like a thunderous beast, caged within their skulls.
As they ventured into the shared living space, an unusual tableau caught their bleary eyes. Dante and Lady were present, engrossed in conversation with the enigmatic Mewtwo. However, the peculiar ensemble wasn't the main spectacle that morning.
At the table sat Laura, her vigilant eyes fixed on a small figure across from her - her daughter, Aorara. In front of the child was a captivating artifact - a pink monolith, which radiated a peculiar, almost uncomfortable light. Beside it sat Laura's own monolith, distinct in its ebony hue, adorned with an X symbol on the surface.
The closer Philippa and Fringilla came to the monoliths, the more their headaches seemed to escalate. The pink monolith, in particular, emitted an intensity that was almost too painful to bear, as if the object itself was broadcasting a force field of disorientation. Even looking at it directly felt like staring into a miniature sun, intensifying their discomfort.
Despite their agony, the two sorceresses were compelled to investigate this morning's mystery. Their curiosity piqued, they endeavored to understand the enigma of these monoliths and their potential connection to Laura's daughter, Aorara, all while grappling with the merciless remnants of the previous night's indulgence.
With caution in their steps and curiosity shining in their eyes, Philippa and Fringilla approached the enigmatic objects that were set on the table. The ethereal pink one in particular seemed to pulsate with an intensity that sent waves of discomfort through their already aching heads, growing more potent the closer they got. They wisely decided to maintain a safe distance.
"What are these?" Philippa finally broke the silence, her voice carrying a slight tremor as her usual scientific curiosity tangled with cautious fear.
Taking turns to answer, Dante, Lady, and Laura began to shed light on the mystifying objects. They explained that these were no ordinary monoliths but had the extraordinary ability to shift their forms. Even more astonishing was the fact that they were sentient entities.
To demonstrate, Laura made a subtle gesture towards a sleek, black monolith that seemed to resonate with her very essence. As if commanded by an invisible force, the monolith lifted off the table, effortlessly hovering in mid-air.
Then, the monolith spoke. Its voice was an echo of Laura's, carrying the same calm and resolute tone. "Hi," it greeted the wide-eyed sorceresses.
It elaborated further that these monoliths were indeed physical embodiments of Laura's and Aorara's will and power. They could retreat back into their hosts at any given time, becoming an inherent part of them yet still maintaining their individual identities.
Philippa and Fringilla were left awestruck, their throbbing headaches momentarily forgotten in the face of such a surreal spectacle.
Fringilla, still mesmerized by the sentient monoliths, managed to articulate a question, her voice laced with curiosity. "Where did they come from?"
Laura chuckled slightly at the question. "Well, it all began during my pregnancy with the twins," she started, her gaze fixed on the hovering black monolith. "You wouldn't believe the bizarre cravings I had. I ate things from giant bugs and star matter to cosmic substances. Once, I even downed a steel candy bar with a glass of oil, and oh, there was also that time I ate a diamond."
Dante, Lady, and even the stoic Mewtwo visibly balked at the confession. Laura's dietary habits during her pregnancy were far from ordinary and clearly outside the realms of normal comprehension.
"And it's not just us," Laura continued, ignoring their incredulous expressions. "Their father, Derreck, also has a monolith. He's invulnerable, the son of Mistress Death - the Grim Reaper of our universe - and a god who created a dark multiverse. So, you could say he's... pretty overpowered."
She paused for effect, a hint of mirth playing on her lips. "His monolith resonates with the same powers. Our son Orion has one too. His is blue."
Suddenly, Dante interjected, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "And here's the kicker. Their daughter here," he gestured towards Aorara, "caused this whole conjunction by simply waving her toy around. Now how's that for a morning revelation?"
There was an extended moment of silence as Philippa and Fringilla tried to process the fantastical reality they had been thrust into, their headaches temporarily forgotten in the face of such unimaginable tales.
There was a profound silence as everyone's eyes turned to little Aorara, who seemed blissfully ignorant of the impact of her actions. She clapped her little hands together, her small face breaking into a wide, toothy grin. An array of razor-sharp baby teeth gleamed in the soft light of the room, causing Philippa and Fringilla to blink in surprise. Aorara's eyes sparkled with an unnatural, gleaming pink hue, a stark contrast to her innocent baby features.
Laura, noticing their bewildered gazes, couldn't help but laugh, a hand resting on her hip as she glanced at her baby girl. "Oh, right. I forgot to mention. Sharp teeth are kind of a family trait on Derreck's side," she shrugged, as if explaining the weather.
Fringilla and Philippa shared a long, wordless look. There was so much they still didn't know about this new universe they found themselves in, but one thing was clear - the ordinary rules they were used to had been thrown out the window. And the reality of living amongst gods and monoliths with an overpowered, sharp-toothed baby had just started to sink in.
The words hung in the air, causing a ripple of silence that made Philippa and Fringilla exchange another glance. They were well-versed in the arcane and the supernatural, but this...this was beyond their ken.
"Laura, are you saying that Aorara...with her...toy," Fringilla gestured towards the pink monolith floating near the little girl, "caused a conjunction that affected every single world in the omniverse?"
Laura gave an affirmative nod, her gaze fondly resting on her daughter. "Not just this world, no. Every world across the omniverse. A multiverse of multiverses. Our little girl has the power to shape reality on a scale that we're only beginning to comprehend."
The gravity of her words was not lost on Philippa and Fringilla. The 'Conjunction of the Spheres' in their world was an event of enormous significance, changing the course of their history and reality forever. And now, a child's plaything had repeated that on an unimaginable scale.
Their heads throbbing with the weight of this revelation, they could only gawk at the cheerful Aorara, who seemed more interested in playing with her floating monolith than the colossal cosmic event she had triggered.
Their legs started felling wobbly so Laura pulled up a chair for them to sit on... So...? have you guys met ariel, the mermaid yet?
Fringilla and Philippa, who were now sitting in the chairs Laura had summoned for them, exchanged a bemused look as the woman's question hung in the air. The two were used to sirens, deceptive and dangerous creatures from their own world, but the prospect of a mermaid, especially one named Ariel, presented a different story altogether.
Before they could respond, a radiant woman with striking red hair, accompanied by a man who bore a striking resemblance to a prince from a fairytale, entered the room. Their presence was unmistakably regal, and yet there was a kind-hearted warmth radiating from them that was nothing like the sirens of their world.
The pair blinked in astonishment as they took in the sight. The mermaid of the fairy tales, Ariel, stood before them in flesh and blood, a stark contrast to the deadly sirens they were accustomed to. She was nothing like the dangerous creatures that lured men to their deaths in the Skellige Isles. She was a living, breathing contradiction to every story they had ever heard.
It was clear that this meeting was going to take some getting used to. They had thought they had seen it all in their world, but every new revelation brought them deeper into a realm of impossibility they could never have imagined.
…
In a different corner of the universe, the realm of Limbo presented an entirely distinct scene of chaos. Illyana Rasputin, better known as Magik, was in shambles. Her world had been torn apart in the aftermath of the mutants' expulsion from Krakoa, Xavier's shocking betrayal, and the crushing revelation that the supposed resurrection process was a sham. All this turmoil left her mentally and emotionally battered.
The usually unflappable sorceress was a shadow of her former self, the distress gnawing at her from the inside. So profound was her state of shock that she barely registered the unusual presence that appeared in her realm.
When she finally lifted her gaze, the sight that met her eyes almost made her heart stop. There, huddled together in a disconcerting cluster, were seven figures, each bearing a striking resemblance to Charles Xavier, the founder of the X-Men and the man who had betrayed them all.
But these were not healthy versions of the man she once respected. Each Xavier was wheelchair-bound, mirroring the original's paralysis. What was even more disturbing was the mental state of these Xaviers - their minds were shattered, sanity swept away in a whirlwind of madness. The shock of seeing multiple broken versions of Xavier shook Magik to her core.
In her dazed state, a terrible realization dawned on her. "Someone... someone is resurrecting him...!" she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper. The thought was terrifying and filled her with a sense of dread. But who would do such a thing, and why? The questions whirled in her mind, adding another layer of distress to her already shattered psyche.
Steeling herself, Magik attempted to probe into the minds of these strange Xaviers. The mental soundscape that greeted her was a tumultuous storm of incoherence, their thoughts an indecipherable jumble of maddening nonsense. Every word, every thought was laced with such profound insanity that it made her head spin. This was not just madness, but a kind of derangement that utterly consumed all reason and rationality. There was not a single shred of sanity left to salvage.
Baffled and disturbed, Magik recoiled from the mind link, the intense babbling of the broken minds echoing eerily in her consciousness. The mental images were too grotesque, too chaotic, like a mirror shattered into thousands of jagged pieces, each reflecting a distorted reality that bore no resemblance to the truth. The sight was heart-wrenching and terrifying, but it also deepened the mystery. Who, or what, could inflict such mental damage?
As if to twist the knife in her bewilderment, another group of seven Xaviers materialized out of nowhere, mirroring the first group in every terrifying detail. The sight sent a chill down Magik's spine, amplifying her dread. The unknown entity responsible for this was not only relentlessly bringing back Xaviers but also ensuring each one was a grotesque parody of the man she once knew.
Magik could only stare in horrified silence, the true gravity of the situation dawning upon her. The person - or thing - capable of this was not just resurrecting Xavier, but doing so in a manner that twisted his mind into incomprehensible chaos, a torture beyond comprehension. Whoever they were, they had a monstrous control over life, death, and sanity, and that made them a threat of the highest order.
…
Facing the demon before her, Magik's voice faltered as she posed her question. The demon simply shrugged in response, a maddening grin playing on its face. "You should know by now that they made their own choices... just... like... the other versions of you..." Its words lingered in the silence, reverberating with a cryptic implication.
"And to answer your question," it continued, its grin broadening, "yes, they keep pouring in on a daily basis... sometimes 30 or 40 at a time."
Magik's heart dropped at the revelation. The image of the Xavier clones multiplied exponentially in her mind, each a maddened echo of the man they used to be. The sheer scale of the occurrence was enough to leave her reeling, and the implication that there were other versions of herself, perhaps as damaged as these Xaviers, sent a chill down her spine. What kind of malevolent force could wield such power? She wondered with a growing sense of dread.
Hearing the demon's words, a shock of icy realization hit Magik. She felt as though she had been plunged into freezing waters, her breath stolen away by the frigid truth. They had all been living under the guise of resurrection, aware of its clone-like nature. But the arrival of the Xavier clones was an unnerving revelation, a grotesque secret kept hidden even from her.
"Resurrection..." she repeated bitterly, each syllable like a shard of ice. "We were cloning ourselves all along..."
Her heart pounded in her chest as she digested this information. They had all been aware of their reality, but this... this was different. This was Xavier, their mentor, duplicated over and over, each clone a reflection of a mind unhinged.
The demon's words stung, his mention of other versions of herself, an unwelcome reminder of their twisted existence. Fury ignited within her, a searing blaze fueled by feelings of betrayal and anger.
"You knew..." she spat, her words punctuated by the pulsating rage coursing through her. "And you, you knew and said nothing!"
Her gaze, now alight with anger, bore into the demon. The sight of the broken Xavier clones filled her with an indescribable rage, a rage not just at the deception, but at the monstrous spectacle before her. Betrayed and enraged, she vowed to herself that someone would answer for this.
As the influx of hideously malformed Xaviers continued, each appearing more grotesque and damaged than the last, the sight became almost too much for Magik. Each bore the horrific scars of interrupted rebirth and torture, and disturbingly, all branded with a bat symbol seared into their foreheads.
The atmosphere in Limbo grew heavy and unbearable. Magik's breath hitched in her throat, a wave of revulsion washing over her. Her hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood.
"WHY?!" Her voice echoed painfully through the chamber, filled with a raw desperation. "WHY DIDN'T ANY OF YOU TELL ME! WE COULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS... THIS... ABOMINATION!"
In response, the demon simply shrugged, his nonchalant gesture stoking her rage even further. "Should we preach to those who would not listen either way...?"
Each syllable was a blow to Magik. It was a reminder of the collective denial, of the silence that allowed this horrifying sight before her. The realization that they had all been blind to the truth filled her with an insurmountable rage. But the demon's indifferent question left her momentarily speechless, her mind teeming with a maelstrom of unanswered questions and undeniable reality.
The demon, almost casual in his demeanour, continued, "Remember, you've all been resurrected too, sometimes needlessly so. You've basked in the glory of immortality, claimed it made you superior to all others." His words were coated in a biting sarcasm, stinging harder than any slap could.
"You made countless mistakes, one after another, until they became too great to ignore. That's when you were exiled from Krakoa," he continued, the grin never leaving his face, his tone accusatory and harsh. "Yet, through it all, you've never had qualms about spilling blood, as long as it suited your agenda. You didn't care if it was your own."
He paused, letting his words sink in, the stillness of Limbo punctuating the heavy truth of his monologue. "You accepted this position as queen of Limbo, knowing full well the repercussions. And yet, you seem surprised that something like this could happen under your rule. It's fascinating, really, that you're only now discovering the extent of the problem. Maybe next time, you'll pay more attention to what the job entails."
Magik's heart hammered in her chest, her blood boiling with a mix of fury and regret. The demon's words echoed in her ears, striking her with their sharp, bitter truth. She was blindsided by the sight of another Xavier appearing, this one with a grotesque, forced smile - his cheeks appeared to be brutally slashed to form a grim caricature of joy. The sight was a horrifying mockery, a dark parody of the man she once respected.
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. This was wrong. So horribly, terribly wrong. It was a nightmare she had unknowingly stepped into, one that was her responsibility to amend. Her jaw clenched tight, determination replacing the initial shock and disbelief. She spun on her heel, her robes swirling around her as she stormed away from the chilling sight.
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," she muttered to herself, her voice barely a whisper against the haunting silence of Limbo. Her eyes were cold, hard, but there was a spark of resolve in them. She had to alert the others - everyone at the New Horizons school had to be aware of this gruesome discovery. They deserved to know, they needed to know. They had to face this reality, as twisted and macabre as it was.
She had a mission now. She would expose the truth, no matter the consequences. It was the least she could do, for them, and for herself.
…
In a flash of teleportation magic, Magik materialized at the entrance of the New Horizons School. She strode across the school grounds, her steps firm and resolute despite the turmoil within. The students she passed gave her curious glances, sensing the grave determination in her demeanor.
She brushed past everyone, heading directly to the principal's office. A secretary attempted to stop her, but a single look from Magik made her step aside.
"I need to see Magneto, Storm, and the Principal," she demanded, her voice carrying an edge of urgency that left no room for questions. "Tell them it's about Xavier. It's urgent."
The secretary, taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the severity in Magik's voice, nodded quickly, immediately picking up the intercom to relay the message. Magik's arrival had turned a normally calm day into one of emergency, setting into motion events that would soon ripple throughout the entire school.
Upon entering the office, Magik was met with a tense atmosphere. The room was occupied by Magneto, Storm, and Jean Grey, now the Principal of the New Horizon School. Their expressions were serious, reflecting the gravity of the situation she was about to relay.
"Someone's been resurrecting Xavier," Magik blurted out, her voice echoing in the room. The mention of Xavier's name hung heavily in the air, shadowing the faces of the trio. "They're subjecting him to torture and crippling him, before ultimately killing him. And this gruesome cycle repeats dozens of times daily. We're talking fifty, even sixty times a day."
Silence ensued. The hum of students in the corridors outside sounded like white noise against the revelation that unfolded within the confines of the room.
"I just stumbled upon this," Magik added, her gaze meeting each pair of eyes in turn. "They're leaving him with a mind that's but a husk of his former self. It's... it's unspeakable."
The weight of the news hit them like a punch. Horrified expressions captured the trio's faces. It was not just a shocking revelation. It was a heinous act that shook their core beliefs and turned their world inside out. They knew they had to respond, and fast. But first, they had to grapple with this horrific disclosure.
Jean, Storm, and Magneto shared a look of grim determination. "Is there anything at all that might help us identify who's doing this?" Jean asked, her voice laced with a mix of fury and concern.
Magik hesitated before continuing. "Their minds...they're a complete mess. Almost like they've been shattered," she confessed, her voice quiet. "But there was one detail. A detail that's been the same on each one."
"A symbol?" Storm inquired, her eyes narrowing with interest.
Magik nodded. "A bat. Branded onto their foreheads."
The room fell silent once again as the information was processed. The image of the bat symbol had a chilling resonance. "Like that figure who arrived with the others... the Lego one. He calls himself Batman, doesn't he?" Magneto noted, his tone contemplative.
"Yes," Magik confirmed, "But we can't be sure that there's a connection yet."
"Agreed," said Jean, "We can't jump to conclusions. But it's certainly a lead worth pursuing. We need to find out more about this Batman character, and see if there's any relation to our situation."
With grim determination, they set about formulating a plan. Although they had distanced themselves from Xavier, his plight struck a deep chord within them. He may have strayed, but he was one of their own, and they couldn't stand by while he suffered.
Just as they were making their plans, a new presence suddenly appeared at the school's gates, creating a wave of apprehension among the staff and students. A man, tall and cloaked in shadow, his demeanor was one of urgency and determination.
"I need to see the people in charge," he stated, his voice deep and commanding, making the students and teachers around him back away. "My name is Batman. I believe I have information about the Batman you're dealing with."
The name sent a ripple of surprise through the school, reaching the meeting room where Jean, Magneto, Storm and Magik were gathered. The timing was uncanny, but they couldn't ignore the potential lead.
"We should see what he has to say," Jean decided, sharing a look with the others. They all agreed and promptly made their way to meet this unexpected visitor.
The figure calling himself Batman met them in the main hall, his presence as imposing as the name he carried. His face was concealed under a cowl, but his eyes bore a resolute gaze. He was a stark contrast to the blocky, miniature Lego Batman they had encountered before.
"I understand you're dealing with a Batman from another universe," he began, his voice echoing through the hall. "And I believe I can help." His tone was calm and collected despite the urgency of the situation, creating an atmosphere of tense anticipation as everyone awaited his next words.
Once they were settled in the meeting room, Batman began his explanation. His voice was steady and even, but the intensity of his gaze never waned.
"The Batman who is behind this is known as 'The Batman Who Laughs'. He's not from my universe, but from a twisted reflection of it, a place known as the Dark Multiverse. It's a realm where all of our worst fears and nightmares become reality. Every possible disastrous outcome, every horrendous possibility... it all exists there."
He paused for a moment, as if the memories of his encounters with The Batman Who Laughs were difficult to recount. He continued, "In his universe, he broke his greatest rule - Batman doesn't kill. He killed his own arch-nemesis, the Joker, by snapping his neck, but in doing so, he was exposed to a concentrated dose of a potent Joker toxin that altered him genetically, infecting him with a madness that turned him into a deadly combination of Batman's strategic genius and the Joker's unhinged insanity."
The room was silent as he let his words sink in. Everyone was listening intently, their faces showing various degrees of concern, shock and even fear.
"Since then," Batman continued, "The Batman Who Laughs has been an unpredictable and chaotic force of destruction, whose main goal is to spread his insanity across all realities. He's been known to resurrect versions of individuals, torturing and driving them to madness before sending them back, as he likely did with Xavier. This is his MO, his way of creating chaos and spreading his madness."
Jean, Magneto, Storm and Magik exchanged worried glances. They knew they were dealing with a dangerous enemy, but hearing the full extent of The Batman Who Laughs' madness was daunting.
"What do we do?" Storm finally broke the silence, her voice filled with determination.
"We need to stop him, and to do that, we need to understand him better. We need to predict his moves," Batman said, his gaze hardening. "And to do that, we'll need all the help we can get."
Batman leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he prepared to explain further. "The Justice League is part of my team," he began, referencing the group they had heard about from Shroud's domain. "We're a group of heroes who fight for justice and peace. We face all kinds of threats, from petty crimes to cosmic-level disasters."
"But the Batman Who Laughs... he's a different kind of menace altogether." Batman's jaw clenched as he spoke about his deranged counterpart. "Imagine having someone with my intellect, my skills, but utterly devoid of morality or empathy. He's a madman, obsessed with spreading chaos and destruction. He can't be reasoned with, bribed, or threatened. He's beyond all of that."
"He's a genius, but not in the way you or I might understand," Batman continued, his voice grim. "His mind doesn't work within the realms of sanity or logic. He sees patterns where we see chaos, he finds joy in torment and suffering. He revels in the breakdown of order, and he'll stop at nothing to see the multiverse burn."
Batman's tone was grave, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. "And that is why he is so dangerous. He's unpredictable, unstoppable, and unimaginably cruel. But we've beaten him before, and we can do it again. This isn't just a fight for us, or for you, it's a fight for every reality in the multiverse."
At his words, the room was quiet, each of them absorbing the grave information. But amid the fear and concern, there was also a spark of determination. They were X-Men, they were fighters, and no matter how challenging the enemy, they would stand their ground.
…
Batman blinked behind his cowl, taken aback for a moment. "A... Lego Batman?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He was well aware of the Multiverse and its infinite variety, but a version of himself that was literally a plastic toy was a new one even for him.
"Yes," Jean Grey answered, a touch of amusement in her voice at Batman's incredulity. "He arrived with the recent influx of beings from other realities. He's...quite different, but he's been an ally nonetheless."
At that, Batman let out a low chuckle, his gloved hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Well, that's certainly...new," he admitted, shaking his head. "I suppose in a Multiverse where I can be a vampire, a cowboy, or a Green Lantern, a Lego version of myself isn't the strangest thing that could happen."
He glanced around at the mutants, his expression once again serious. "Regardless, it's good to know there's another version of me here to help. But right now, our focus needs to be on the Batman Who Laughs. If he's here, he's undoubtedly planning something. We need to find him, and fast."
…
A group of individuals from all corners of the Multiverse soon entered the room, an eclectic mix of powers and personalities that could rival the Justice League in sheer diversity. First came Letho, Geralt, and Ciri from the world of The Witcher, their otherworldly appearances striking in the sterile school setting.
Next was Dante, from Devil May Cry, his irreverent grin clashing with the weight of the situation. Tazmanian Devil spun into the room in a whirlwind of dust, coming to a sudden halt when he saw Batman, before resuming his dizzying rotation in excitement.
Then came Logan, better known as Wolverine. His expression was grim as he acknowledged Batman with a nod, clearly having been briefed on the severity of the situation. Following Logan was the imposing figure of Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta, who crossed his arms over his chest and gave Batman a stoic stare. His aura of raw, primal power was almost tangible, causing the air to thicken with tension.
Marvin the Martian appeared next, his small stature deceivingly unassuming. And finally, there was Lego Batman. He bounced forward with a friendly wave, his plastic smile forever fixed on his blocky face. "Hey there, non-plastic version of me!" He greeted cheerfully, extending a stubby hand towards Batman.
The room buzzed with an array of reactions. Batman, however, stood resolute and unfazed, looking at the collective of unique individuals gathered before him. This was going to be one wild adventure.
…
Logan stepped forward, the intensity of his gaze capturing everyone's attention. "Our priority right now is to locate this... 'Batman Who Laughs,'" he began, his rough voice underscoring the urgency of the situation. "I've already encountered one of his clones—a sinister and twisted version of me. We've managed to break Sinister's control over him, and he may have some information that can lead us to our target."
He paused for a moment, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on the clone he mentioned— a mirror image of himself, but there was a certain haunted look in his eyes that Logan himself did not have.
"We're going to have to question him, find out everything he knows," Logan continued. "If the Batman Who Laughs is as dangerous as you say," he nodded towards the original Batman, "we can't afford to leave any stone unturned. Every piece of information could be vital."
The room was silent for a moment after Logan finished speaking. His plan was straightforward and made sense, considering their circumstances. Batman gave a nod of approval. "Agreed," he said. "We start now."
After a while of trying to get him to talk, he still had that glazed over look in his eyes... the look logan once had... and Ciri approaches the logan clone.
Ciri, taking a deep, calming breath, approached the shell-shocked Logan clone, her eyes holding an earnest and compassionate spark. Carefully, she set her swords down on the ground, symbolizing her intention of peace and goodwill.
She then knelt before the clone, reaching out and unlocking his restraints one by one. As each metal shackle clinked onto the ground, Logan's own heart tightened with the echo of a past he wished to forget, but couldn't. A past where he had been the one shackled and lost, till Jean had stepped in and offered a semblance of hope.
Ciri held the clone's hands in her own, her grip warm and inviting. "You're not a weapon. You're not a puppet," she said in a soothing voice. "You're free now. More than what they made you to be."
She then paused, letting her words seep into the crevices of the clone's fractured mind. "We need your help," she implored, her voice filled with a gentle urgency. "You may be scared, you may be confused. We all have been. But together, we can make a difference. It's not too late to choose a different path."
As she finished, she held the clone's gaze, her eyes brimming with hope. It was a moment that seemed to hang in the air, silent yet filled with meaning.
Then the clone's gaze shifted, looking deeply into Ciri's eyes. In them, he saw sincerity, he saw compassion, and for the first time, he saw himself reflected as a person, not a monster. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.
He then began to speak, his words slow but steady. He told them about the Batman who Laughs, about his hideout, about his plans. There were more clones, he said. Not just of Logan, but of Jean, Storm, and Scott as well. The Batman who Laughs was planning to make even more. And with that revelation, a shiver ran through the room.
The clone's voice softened, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his words. "Please," he pleaded, "let me try to talk to the other clones. If there's even the slightest chance I can help them, I want to try... with your permission, of course."
His gaze turned to both Logan and Batman, earnest and filled with an understanding only those who've been through similar experiences could recognize. They could see the resolve in his eyes, a testament to his newfound freedom and a poignant reflection of their own past struggles.
Logan exchanged a glance with Batman. They both knew all too well the overwhelming courage it took to break free from the chains of manipulation and mind control. It was a battle that was never easy, a war fought on the battleground of one's own mind.
Seeing that same strength mirrored in the clone's eyes, they gave each other a slight nod. "We trust you," Logan finally spoke, his voice steady and reassuring, "You have our permission."
…
Together, they boarded the sleek Quinjet, each settling into their respective seats. The clone of Logan, still grappling with his newfound autonomy, chose to sit next to Ciri. It seemed that her gentle, empathetic presence provided him with a comfort he hadn't known in a very long time.
Ciri, in return, did her best to offer silent support. She did not pry, understanding well that the healing process was not linear. Her hand occasionally brushed against his, a silent reassurance that he wasn't alone in his struggle.
At the back of the jet, Letho, Dante, and Geralt shared a silent conversation with Batman. Even without words, their expressions spoke volumes. They watched the budding bond between Ciri and the clone with thoughtful eyes, recognizing the unique strength she was bestowing upon him - the kind of strength that could only come from shared understanding and unconditional acceptance.
The Logan clone, his eyes full of questions, finally broke the silence. "How do you do it?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "How do you get through the pain? The inner rage? And... why show someone like me compassion?"
Logan, who had been watching the clone with understanding eyes, responded. His voice was gentle, but there was an undeniable edge of hard-earned wisdom in his tone. "I was once where you are now," he began. "But here's what I've learned about faith. It's like steel - it's only through the fires of adversity, through the hammering of trials and tribulations, that it gets tempered and made stronger. Untested, it lacks the resilience to weather the storm."
"And as for compassion," Logan continued, glancing over at Ciri who was listening attentively. "We've all seen enough pain and hate in our lives to last a lifetime. The least we can do is offer kindness where we can, even to those who might not seem deserving. Because everyone deserves a chance to change, to heal. You're no different."
In the ensuing silence that filled the Quinjet after Logan's words, everyone was left in their own contemplations. Dante casually ran a hand through his hair, a thoughtful hum resonating from him. Letho nodded silently, his eyes narrowed in thought. Geralt's gaze, typically as hard as granite, softened for a rare, fleeting moment - an evident reflection of his own trials.
In the corner, the usually stoic and formidable Kratos quietly observed the exchanges. Logan's words, echoing through the cabin, had stirred something within him. He found himself inadvertently reflecting on his own journey, his battle with inner demons and the choices he had made, the path he had trod. Kratos knew well the cost of past mistakes and the challenge of striving to be better, to do better.
Ciri, meanwhile, turned her gaze to the Logan clone. Her hand reached out, placing a comforting touch on his arm. "You are not alone. We're with you," she whispered, a spark of gratitude flickering in her eyes.
Batman, ever the silent observer, shared a look with Logan, a nod of silent understanding passing between them. His gaze, hardened from years of fighting crime, then softened slightly as he looked at the Logan clone. It was a look that held a promise, a vow of a fresh start.
The Logan clone absorbed their reactions, a look of bewilderment swiftly replaced with a glimmer of hope. This hope was small, still vulnerable, yet held the potential to grow into something much more robust, given time and nurture.
…
Following a momentary flight, they landed at a clandestine facility, located deep within the heart of the Savage Land, a prehistoric jungle hidden in Antarctica. As the Quinjet's engines hummed to a halt, the doors hissed open, revealing an unexpected sight.
Looming in front of them was a motley assembly of clones; some bore the likeness of Logan, their fierce gaze echoing the ferocity and resilience of the original. Others were striking mirror images of Storm, Jean, and Scott, each carrying a disconcerting echo of their counterparts' abilities and charisma.
The team prepared for a battle, their instincts honed by countless encounters with foes. Yet, as the Logan clone stepped forward from their ranks, Ciri close at his side, a wave of silence fell over the crowd. His eyes, once clouded and vacant, now shone with a clear and resolute determination.
Looking directly into the eyes of his 'brothers' and 'sisters,' he began to speak. His voice, once just an echo of the original, now carried a conviction that was entirely his own.
"I am no longer a tool, a weapon to be wielded," he said, his voice carrying across the silent crowd. "I have made a choice, my own choice. To fight. To live. To change."
He paused, letting his words sink into the gathered clones, before continuing, "You... we are not just copies, we are individuals. We can forge our own paths, our own identities. You don't have to be a pawn in someone else's game. The choice is yours. Choose to be free. What you decide to do next... is up to you."
His words hung in the air, a challenge and a beacon of hope wrapped in one. The clones watched him, a few stirred with confusion, others with curiosity, and some with a spark of hope. Change, it seemed, was on the horizon.
The moment hung in the balance as the clones, wearing expressions of skepticism, surprise, and cautious intrigue, studied their newly liberated counterpart. They watched him, their mirror image, for any hint of deception, their guards wavering but not yet entirely down.
Among them, a clone of Logan stepped forward, his eyes scrutinizing the other with an intense focus. He held the gaze of his identical twin, seeking the truth in those familiar eyes. The subtle shift in his posture was like a silent beacon to the others, signaling their permission to drop their hostility, if only momentarily.
"Go on," he prompted, his voice heavy with suspicion and curiosity. His stance was defensive yet open, a silent admission of his willingness to hear what this changed clone had to say. This was a crucial moment, an opening for dialogue that could potentially shift the tide of their existence. The other clones, taking their cue from him, slowly began to lower their weapons, their attention fixated on the pair in front of them.
Their immediate threat subsided, their postures shifting from confrontational to contemplative. A quiet murmur of uncertainty spread among them, their attention drawn to the potential truth in the logan clone's words. A ripple of change stirred among them, its full effect yet to be seen.
The Logan clone stood before his peers, his mind carefully sorting through the lessons he'd learned in the short time since his liberation. He saw the uncertainty flickering in their eyes, the skepticism etched on their faces. He understood it, he had been them not too long ago.
"I once was like you," he began, his voice steady and calm, "Lost in a sea of my own anger and pain. My existence was guided by the orders of others. I was a tool, a weapon, nothing more. But that changed...because of faith."
He let the word hang in the air, allowing them a moment to absorb it. He saw their brows furrow in confusion, saw their uncertainty grow. Undeterred, he continued.
"Faith is not blind trust. It's not about accepting things without proof or questioning. It's about choosing to believe in something greater, something beyond our current comprehension. It's about holding on, even when everything around us is falling apart."
The Logan clone looked at them, his eyes resonating with sincerity and a hard-earned wisdom. "Faith, like us, is forged in adversity. It needs to be tested, to be challenged. Only then can it grow strong enough to support us, to give us hope."
His gaze flicked to Ciri, standing nearby. She was the embodiment of the faith he was talking about, she had shown him that he was more than just a clone, more than a weapon.
"Because without faith, without hope," he finished, locking eyes with the Logan clone who had initially stepped forward, "How can we stand against the weight of our lives, the weight of our existence?"
As the clone's words hung in the air, silence descended upon the facility. Clones exchanged looks, the usual hardness in their eyes replaced with flickers of uncertainty and contemplation. The sentiment was foreign, and yet, it seemed to strike a chord deep within them.
The Logan clone who had initially signaled for the speaker to continue looked around at his brothers, his sisters. They were him, in a sense. His experiences, his pain, his anger, his confusion; they all mirrored it. And yet, standing in front of them was a version of himself who seemed to have found something they didn't have. Something...more.
He was visibly taken aback, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with a thoughtful frown. The strength and determination radiating from the other clone was palpable. The words he'd spoken, they'd resonated deep within him. He'd never considered faith, never thought it could be something so... tangible, so real.
For a long while, no one said a word. The clones, each lost in their own thoughts, their attention focused inward. The weight of the situation, the significance of this moment, was not lost on them. They stood there, each wrestling with the concept of faith, of freedom, of choosing their own path. And in that moment, they all recognized the seed of change that had been planted among them.
With an air of newfound purpose, the clone strode towards the massive door that marked the entrance of the facility. He paused, casting a glance over his shoulder at the myriad faces watching him. There was a sea change in their eyes, the beginnings of understanding and perhaps, the stirrings of faith.
With a decisive nod, he turned back to the door. The lock mechanism, a complex array of codes and biometrics, responded to his touch as if he was the original. With a hiss of pressurized air and the grinding of heavy-duty gears, the door slid open, revealing the expanse of the facility within.
For a brief moment, he lingered at the entrance, his silhouette framed by the harsh interior lights of the complex. Then, he stepped inside, a beacon leading the way to a possible new beginning. Behind him, the others followed suit, stepping into the unknown with a blend of trepidation and hope.
In this defining moment, they were no longer mere copies. They were individuals, each on their own path to self-discovery and redemption. And this was their first step.
…
Stepping inside, the group navigated through a maze of cold metallic corridors that mirrored the stark brutality of the facility's purpose. Their steps echoed ominously in the silence, a grim percussion that matched the tension coiling in their hearts.
Eventually, they arrived at a vast command center, a technological dystopia of sprawling screens and interfaces blinking with inscrutable data. And there, seated at the heart of it all, were two figures that sent a frisson of dread down their spines: The Batman Who Laughs and Mister Sinister.
The Batman Who Laughs was a terrifying parody of the caped crusader. His skin was chalk-white, his mouth carved into a wide, manic grin that stretched his lips to an impossible extent. Metallic braces contorted around his eyes, giving him an insect-like visage. He was the nightmare you dared not dream, a corrupted version of the symbol of justice.
Beside him, Mister Sinister stood in his signature costume, his chillingly aristocratic features and cold, ice-blue eyes surveying them with a detached curiosity. His reputation preceded him; a geneticist with dubious morals and an obsession with evolution and perfection that often strayed into the territory of monstrous.
Logan led the way as they moved into the room, his demeanor one of rigid control. The clone who had so recently found his path trailed behind him, determination etched on his face. Even in the face of these monstrosities, there was a palpable resolve in the air around them.
Without any preamble, Logan addressed the villains, "It's over. We're here to put an end to your monstrous experiments."
The Batman Who Laughs merely cackled, a chilling sound that echoed off the metal walls, while Mister Sinister simply raised an eyebrow, his cold gaze unreadable. The final showdown had begun.
The Batman Who Laughs leaned forward, his eerie grin stretching wider as his gaze danced over the group that had invaded his sanctuary. His laughter tapered off into a chuckle, an eerie and manic sound that clawed at their nerves.
"Well, this is impressive," he admitted, the words gratingly jovial, his hands splayed wide in a mock applause. "You managed to turn our own clones against us. How very... resourceful."
His eyes, hidden behind the gruesome spiked visor, flickered over each of them before they finally landed on Batman, and then shifted to Lego Batman. His laughter erupted anew, sharper and more jarring than before.
"And what's this? Two Batmen?" His head tilted, the metallic points of his visor glinting ominously under the stark light. "One serious and the other...what, a toy? This is truly an absurd delight!"
There was a pause, where only the harsh echo of his laughter filled the room. It bounced off the cold metal walls, a chilling reminder of the madness they were up against.
"Enough of this mockery, The Batman Who Laughs," Batman declared, his voice unyielding. He stepped forward, his face hidden behind his mask, but his eyes bore into the creature in front of him. "We're here to negotiate, not to play into your twisted games."
"Negotiate?" The Batman Who Laughs queried, the word dancing on his tongue like a sinister joke. His laughter, previously cacophonous, subsided into a quiet chuckle. "Now that is interesting. And what, pray tell, do you propose?"
"We want you to stop. Stop the cloning, stop the torture," Batman asserted, his gaze steady and unyielding. His glance shifted to Mr. Sinister. "Both of you."
The room fell into a tense silence, the words hanging heavy in the air. They knew they were outmatched. Both The Batman Who Laughs and Mr. Sinister were notorious for their cruelty and relentlessness. Yet, they had to try, for the sake of those who couldn't defend themselves.
"As simple as that, huh?" The Batman Who Laughs replied, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "And why would we do that?" His gaze was fixed on Batman, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a malevolent grin. It was clear that this negotiation was far from over.
"Well, for starters," Batman began, his voice carrying throughout the room, "This is your chance to avoid a fight you cannot win. We're not alone, and we've gathered forces that won't let you continue your atrocities."
"Secondly," Batman continued, "You're creating these clones, but for what purpose? Endless torture? Do you really think this will end well for you? There are laws in this universe, natural or otherwise, that you're flagrantly disregarding."
"And finally," Batman locked eyes with The Batman Who Laughs and Mr. Sinister, "If those reasons aren't enough, then perhaps you should consider this. We've been in contact with The Core, the adversary of The Serpent. And he isn't pleased with what you're doing. Continue, and you'll have him to answer to."
The room fell silent, all eyes on The Batman Who Laughs and Mr. Sinister. The stillness was eventually broken by a voice, seemingly coming from everywhere at once, echoing Batman's sentiments with a single, firm "Yes." Batman smiled beneath his mask. The ball was now in their court.
The voice that came seemingly from everywhere stunned the group, each person pausing as they absorbed the impact of the words. They had all heard tales of The Core and the legendary power it held, but experiencing its presence firsthand was something else entirely. They could feel it in the very marrow of their bones, a pervasive presence that filled the room, filled their bodies, their minds.
Kratos, however, was not merely shocked but recognized the sensation. The soothing warmth, the overwhelming peace... it was similar to the feeling he associated with Fey, an entity he had met before. Fey had given him peace, had helped him find tranquility in his tumultuous existence. The similarity did not escape his notice, and his eyes widened as realization dawned on him.
On the other hand, The Batman Who Laughs and Mr. Sinister were also privy to the sensation, but it wasn't the soothing warmth that they felt. It was a cold, unsettling discomfort that ran down their spine, a silent disapproval that filled their bodies and left them feeling oddly vulnerable. They exchanged a glance, their faces a mask of confusion and dawning realization. The Core was not pleased, that much was clear. And that was definitely not a good sign for them.
The tension in the room was palpable as the standoff between the intruding group and their adversaries stretched on. But then, something changed. Mr. Sinister, seemingly cognizant of the hopeless situation he found himself in, began to show signs of surrender. His defiant posture slumped, hands slowly raising in a universal symbol of capitulation.
But The Batman Who Laughs stood his ground. Teeth gritted, defiance written all over his grotesque visage, he seemed to challenge The Core directly, a dangerous gamble that brought a hush over the room. The air became heavy, thick with anticipation as they awaited The Core's response.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Instead of retaliating with overwhelming power, The Core chose a different course. The Batman Who Laughs began to convulse slightly, his body shaking as if in the throes of an unseen battle. His laughter, so omnipresent before, suddenly fell silent. The manic light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something akin to confusion, fear even. He fell to his knees, his spiked visor clattering to the floor as he clutched his head, his cries of agony echoing in the room.
The Batman Who Laughs, a being who thrived on chaos and madness, was being returned to sanity. It was a fate worse than death for him. His madness was his essence, his raison d'être. Without it, he was merely... Batman… no, not event that, he was Bruce Wayne. An ordinary man.
The room watched in stunned silence as the once formidable adversary was reduced to a trembling, pitiful shell of his former self. The Core had not just defeated The Batman Who Laughs. It had broken him. And in doing so, it had sent a clear message to everyone present - it was not to be trifled with.
In the immediate aftermath of The Batman Who Laughs' transformation, The Core spoke again. This time, its voice seemed less ethereal and more human - a whisper carried on the wind that swirled around the room, in their minds, and deep in their souls.
"Bruce Wayne, understand this," The Core's voice echoed, imbued with a power that was impossible to ignore. "If you choose to continue on this path, there will come a day when I will have no choice but to make you confront those you have wronged. Those who loved you, who you brutally ripped from this world. As well as your parents, who had their lives snuffed out in front of you so you can hear what they have to say."
A ripple of emotion rolled across the room, shock etched into everyone's faces as they glanced at The Batman Who Laughs – or rather, the man he had become.
"Your family. The ones who you gunned down in cold blood, Damion, Alfred, Barbera, all of those you have killed. Remember them," The Core continued. "It's not my desire to destroy anyone, I don't wish to harm anyone. I am giving you a chance, an opportunity to turn away from this darkness that has consumed you. Whether you decide to take it or not... that's up to you."
The choice had been laid out; the ultimatum issued. Now, the fate of Bruce Wayne – the man formerly known as The Batman Who Laughs – rested solely on his own shoulders.
As The Core fell silent, a profound stillness fell over the room. Yet, they could all feel the entity's watchful gaze lingering, full of hope that they would each choose a better path.
Kratos was silent, his weathered features betraying a flicker of understanding. His journey had been filled with rage and vengeance, but also redemption. The Core's words were familiar to him, reminding him of his own struggles.
Ciri, clutching the arm of the first Logan clone, was deep in thought. Her green eyes were filled with empathy as she looked at the figure of The Batman Who Laughs, now a weeping man on the ground. The raw emotion and the burden of choice that he now bore were things she understood all too well.
The second Logan clone, the one who had let them in, bore a similar expression. The words of The Core had resonated with him deeply. His own journey was just beginning, and he now knew the importance of the choices he would have to make.
Geralt, Taz, Marvin the Martian, Lego Batman - each had their own reactions, a mix of surprise, realization, and contemplation. This was a crossroads, not just for Bruce Wayne, but for each of them. A reminder of their past mistakes, and a plea to make better choices in the future.
The Batman, the one who had encountered The Batman Who Laughs before, watched the unfolding scene with a grim expression. He had always hoped for redemption for his alternate self, and now it seemed, there was a chance for it. He had known the depths to which Bruce Wayne had sunk as The Batman Who Laughs, and now he saw the pain of his regained sanity.
And at the center of it all was the figure of Bruce Wayne, formerly known as The Batman Who Laughs. Now just a man, weeping on the ground, confronted with the harsh reality of his actions. The laughter was gone, replaced by sobs of regret and the harsh truth of sanity. The room watched in silence; the weight of The Core's words still heavy in the air.
Mr. Sinister, wide-eyed and visibly shaken, slowly raised his hands. Sweat trickled down his face, glistening in the cold, harsh light of the facility. His usual poised demeanor was nowhere to be seen as he took a step back, distancing himself from the still-weeping form of the man formerly known as The Batman Who Laughs.
"I... I think..." he stammered, his voice shaky, "I think I'm done with cloning."
There was something about his tone, the uncertainty, the fear perhaps, that suggested he meant his words. It wasn't an easy admission for a man of his stature, but the overwhelming presence of The Core had left its mark. The air of invincibility that typically surrounded Mr. Sinister was noticeably diminished. For once, he seemed genuinely repentant.
…
By the time they arrived back at Krakoa, the air was thick with anticipation. Sinister and the Batman who had laughed - now silent and subdued - were ushered in under close watch. Their motley crew of diverse and powerful individuals attracted quite the attention from both Krakoa's residents and the various superheroes from SHIELD and the Avengers who were there to help handle the situation.
Ciri was at Logan2's side, her calm presence noticeably soothing to the clone, while Logan3 - the one who'd first permitted them access to the clandestine facility - followed them, his eyes reflecting a newfound sense of purpose. Each step they took was a testament to their choices, a symbol of their newfound freedom and an opportunity for a fresh start.
The Jean, Scott, Storm and additional Logan clones that had been freed were met with an outpouring of empathy and support. Both the X-Men and SHIELD had quickly arranged for them to be relocated to safe environments, where they could begin the process of healing, discovering their individual identities and learning to live a peaceful life. The sight was heartwarming, an affirmation that even in the face of unimaginable horrors, there was always room for hope, healing and change.
Ciri and Logan2 were engaged in a gentle conversation with Logan, Logan3, and his mother from the Dark Multiverse. The energy between them was warm and supportive, a balm to the pain of recent events. Logan3 looked especially pensive, his gaze often drifting towards Logan's mother - a woman who bore a similar face to the one he could never remember.
Logan's mother, despite not being the true mother of Logan2 and Logan3, bore a soft, loving smile as she looked at them. She explained how forgiveness was an act of release, how it set her free from the chains of resentment, allowing her to embrace a newfound son even though he wasn't hers by birth.
The Logan with a metal arm and Laura from the Dark Multiverse joined the conversation, their expressions softening as they looked at the older woman. They confirmed her words with warm smiles and nods. They shared their experiences, how they had learned the importance of acceptance and forgiveness in the face of unimaginable hardship. How, in their Dark Multiverse, they had seen the darkest shadows of their souls, and yet, had managed to find light, love and forgiveness.
As the conversations went on, the atmosphere lightened and Logan2 and Logan3 found themselves feeling an unexpected sense of acceptance and belonging - a family forged not by blood, but by shared experiences and the resilience of the human spirit.
The atmosphere in the room had a noticeable shift as Ciri reached into her satchel and pulled out a small vial filled with a brightly colored liquid. The playful, sparkling potion inside the vial was as eye-catching as its effects promised to be.
"This," she announced, holding it up for everyone to see, "is the Loony Lotion. Trust me, it's more fun than it sounds."
With a grin on her face, she popped open the vial and drank its contents in one gulp. Within seconds, her body started to emit a faint, cartoony glow, her form slightly bending and stretching in ways that defied natural physics. She jumped, not just a few feet high, but vaulting up to the ceiling with exaggerated ease. And then, to everyone's shock, she popped right back to the ground, unharmed and laughing.
The room erupted with laughter and exclamations. Logan with the metal arm, Laura, Logan2 and Logan3 watched in awe and surprise, their eyes wide, their hearts lighter. Even in the wake of recent events, moments like these reminded them of the simple joys of life. It brought a real, genuine smile to their faces, the infectious laughter echoing through the room.
While they had seen a lot in their lifetimes, nothing compared to watching Ciri defy the laws of physics like a character from Looney Tunes. This, they concluded, was indeed more fun than it sounded.
"Anyone up for seeing something else?" Ciri asked, grinning as she held up her satchel. The glowing effect of the Loony Lotion had subsided, returning her to her normal form, but the excitement in the room remained.
The Logans, Laura, and the others exchanged looks, their curiosity piqued. It was not every day they had the chance to witness such wonders. After the heavy atmosphere of their recent mission, this was a welcome change. The interest was evident in their eyes as they turned their gazes back to Ciri, waiting to see what other potions she had to offer.
Her satchel, they realized, was like a treasure trove of magic and marvels. And they were more than eager to see what other surprises she had in store for them.
Ciri's grin only widened as she held up the second potion for all to see. It was a vibrant, almost luminescent mixture that swirled with all the colours of a summer sunset.
"Mushroom Marvel," she announced, glancing at each of them in turn as their curiosity spiked. "Derived from a certain Mario's Mushroom power-ups," she added with a nod towards a certain plumber present in the crowd.
As the assembled group chuckled at the connection, Ciri proceeded to explain the effects. "It enhances physical strength and resilience, and that's not all. You can throw fireballs too," she told them, mimicking a throwing action for emphasis. "And in case of danger, it also gives a period of Starman invincibility."
The assembled mutants, and Mario himself, looked on with varying degrees of amusement and awe. The marvel of Mario's world, made into a potion - it was quite a sight to behold. And judging by the delighted, anticipatory expressions around the room, they were more than ready for her to demonstrate it.
Grinning with an air of unbridled anticipation, Ciri tipped the potion into her mouth. Almost instantly, her pupils dilated and her whole being seemed to resonate with a newfound power. She brought her hands together, and in a crackle of energy, a blazing fireball materialized between her palms.
With a wink at the onlookers, she lobbed the fireball directly towards her own face. There was a collective gasp of shock, and some were about to react. But, before the fireball could even get close, a pulsating aura burst out around her - the Starman invincibility in action.
The fireball exploded upon impact, harmlessly dissipating around her in a harmless cascade of sparks. It was a visual feast of colors and light, earning a round of applause from the stunned audience.
Mario, amongst the crowd, was laughing wholeheartedly. Despite having seen it before, the sight of someone else imitating his famous power-up was simply too amusing to resist. "Mamma mia, that never gets old!" He exclaimed, still chuckling as he clapped his hands together.
Through the spectacle of it all, Logan2 and Logan3 found themselves sharing a warm, genuine smile. Even though their memories didn't match up with those of the original Logan or the Logan from the dark multiverse, they felt a sense of belonging they had never experienced before.
Looking at each other, there was an unspoken understanding. Regardless of where they had come from, they were here now, and this was their reality - a reality that they were beginning to appreciate.
Ciri's lively demonstration, her spirited laughter, and the camaraderie that filled the room had a way of making them feel at home. And despite the convoluted mess of their past, they were optimistic about what the future held for them.
"Ciri," Logan2 began, his voice softer than usual, "Thank you. For showing us that we're more than just...clones."
Logan3 nodded in agreement, "Yeah, thank you. We're gonna like our new life here...especially with you around."
Both of them wore a sincere look in their eyes, thankful for the chance they'd been given and the friendships they'd started to forge in this newfound family. Their shared glance towards Ciri was filled with gratitude, admiration, and most importantly, hope.