X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 2, Omniverse Saga
Chapter 10: The Mandalorian's, Thor's Regret, and The Original Timeline
…
A day had passed since the future children returned to their own time. The atmosphere within the refuge was still tinged with their brief presence, an echo of their love and camaraderie hanging in the air.
Yennefer and Kira found themselves experiencing odd cravings - a side effect of their developing pregnancies. Sequestered in a corner of the bustling compound, they sat surrounded by culinary maestros, Kirby and Mario, who were busy preparing their signature dishes.
Kirby, with his unparalleled ability to mimic and combine various culinary techniques, was crafting an elaborate and delectable meal that somehow managed to meet the seemingly contradictory requests of the two expecting mothers. Mario, in his classic Italian apron, was preparing a dish that blended the hearty flavors of Mushroom Kingdom with more traditional flavors, somehow creating a pizza infused with flavors of caviar and pickle, satisfying the peculiar craving that had hit Yennefer.
Elsewhere, Maggie, Negan, Arya, and Jon Snow were engaged in a lively conversation with Mando. The mix of personalities and experiences made for interesting stories, helping to ease the tension that came with the recent events.
In the midst of all this, Grogu was engrossed in a lesson with his new tutor - a repurposed interrogation droid. Its sinister appearance was in stark contrast to its new role, its once terrifying implements now replaced with various teaching aids.
Grogu's bright eyes followed the droid's movements, absorbing the information. Every now and then, he would reach out with the force, knocking the droid slightly off balance or moving one of the educational objects, causing the droid to reprimand him in its electronic voice.
And then, it happened. Clear as day, Grogu voiced his first word in Basic, the common language of the Star Wars universe, that everyone could understand.
"Mando," he said. His voice was small, but clear. It filled the room, and all activity ceased.
Mando turned to look at him, his visage hidden behind the helmet, but the softening of his posture spoke volumes. The bond between the two of them deepening, a wordless affirmation that despite everything, they were family.
Freya approached Mando, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. His body stiffened for a moment before he gave a curt nod. A hush fell over the room as Mando turned back to the gathered crowd. His normally stoic voice carried a personal note as he spoke, "There's been another Conjunction."
He paused, letting the words sink in. The crowd was quiet, their collective attention now focused on him.
"My kin...from the Guild," he continued, "have found their way here. Including..." Mando hesitated, just for a second, before pressing on. "...Including the one who raised me, and many others in the Guild."
His words hung in the air, a heavy silence following. This wasn't just news of more refugees or potential allies. This was family. It was personal. The Mandalorians were legendary, known across galaxies for their unyielding spirit and their tight-knit communities. Now, some of that legendary kin had arrived, bringing with them the potential for a more potent allyship, but also the danger of their ruthless enemies.
Mando's voice was firm as he continued to address the crowd. "It's important to proceed with respect. These aren't just any individuals; they are part of my guild, part of my past. You must understand... they aren't just allies; they're my family."
He then went into his past with the guild, something he rarely shared, the weight of his history evident in his tone.
"Growing up in the guild wasn't easy, but it taught me a lot. They're the reason I am who I am today. They raised me, trained me, and gave me a code to live by," Mando's voice held an edge of nostalgia.
"But it wasn't always smooth sailing," he admitted, "I've had my disagreements with them, differences in our views on certain aspects. When the bounty on Grogu was placed, they followed their code to the letter. They didn't understand my decision to protect him, they thought I'd gone rogue, turned my back on the guild."
He took a deep breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Grogu, who cooed softly at his side.
"But when they realized the extent of the danger Grogu was in, they stepped in. Helped me escape the bounty hunters, and they've been laying low since then."
Mando looked around the room, meeting the eyes of the individuals who'd become his unconventional family. "They're warriors with a deep-rooted code of honor. They can be stubborn and unyielding, but their loyalty is unquestionable. We need to show them that they're welcome here, that we respect their code just as much as our own. And perhaps, we can help each other in ways we haven't thought of yet."
Once everyone had assembled and geared up, they boarded the Razor Crest, Mando's reliable ship. With Jon and Arya Stark from the North, Maggie with her Ironheart-inspired armor, Negan donned in War Machine-like armor, and the Norse gods Freya and Kratos on board, the team was as diverse as it was formidable.
Mando, adjusting his helmet, gave the interior of the ship a once over, his eyes landing on their newest member, an Astro Droid. It sat in the co-pilot's seat, its mechanical parts freshly painted in a riot of colors that the droid had chosen for itself. No longer the monotonous Imperial silver, it was now a vibrant entity that seemed to exude a newfound sense of freedom.
To facilitate communication, the droid had been fitted with a language translator. It was a small device, attached just under its visual sensor. Now, it could convey its beeps and whistles into Basic, or any other language its crew members might speak, making it an even more effective co-pilot and companion.
Kratos, who often seemed distant and brooding, had taken a particular liking to Mando. The Mandalorian's sense of honor and duty resonated with the Spartan warrior. He viewed Mando as a fellow warrior, one bound by a sacred code.
With the crew ready and the ship humming to life, Mando took a deep breath. "Alright, let's go see the family." And with that, the Razor Crest lifted off, embarking on its journey towards a new, yet intimately familiar reunion.
…
Underneath the scarlet glow of its skies, shadows dance and flicker across the landscape, while the harsh winds carry whispers of the past. Its haunting beauty, combined with its rich history, make Vormir a fascinating, albeit somber destination.
As the Razor Crest approaches, the somber calm of Vormir is almost palpable. As they draw closer, the crew prepares for what could be a challenging and solemn encounter on this legendary planet.
They noticed a rather large ship, somewhat antiquated but formidable nonetheless. Its battered surface and battle scars were clear indications of numerous skirmishes and tales of survival. The ship was known as "The Trident", a moniker symbolic of its owner's indomitable spirit and tenacity.
It was the personal vessel of the Armorer, the de facto leader of Mando's Covert of the Mandalorian Guild on Nevarro. The Armorer, whose name remains unknown, was a highly respected figure among the guild members. She was known for her wisdom, leadership, and unparalleled skill in forging beskar armor.
As Mando guided the Razor Crest closer, the unmistakable silhouette of The Trident came into view. It sat silent and seemingly lifeless on the harsh landscape of Vormir, a stark contrast against the desolate and austere surroundings.
The skies above Vormir suddenly came alive with the roar of a jetpack. A solitary figure, encased in shining beskar armor, rocketed across the gloom, his flight path bringing him closer to the Razor Crest. The helmeted figure swooped over Mando's ship, leaving a trail of hot exhaust in his wake.
In the cockpit, Mando instantly recognized the insignia on the figure's pauldron — it was Paz Vizsla, a fellow member of his Covert on Nevarro. Mando had fought beside Paz against the Imperial remnant, and their history ran deep.
Paz, hovering in mid-air with his jetpack, signaled towards a relatively flat area near The Trident. Mando nodded in acknowledgment, steering the Razor Crest towards the indicated landing site. The way Paz had signaled him, not with the typical hailing frequencies but with a complex set of hand signals that only Mandalorians knew, assured Mando that this was indeed his former guildmate.
As they descended, Mando prepped his crew for the imminent encounter. The landing bay doors opened, and they were greeted by the harsh Vormir wind. Mando stepped out first, his silhouette standing out against the backdrop of The Trident, preparing to greet his kin.
…
Paz Vizsla remained silent for a moment before nodding towards Mando. "You should speak to the Armorer. She's been suspecting something... off about our coordinates," he said, his voice echoing within his helmet. "Star maps don't add up. Worlds are missing. New ones have appeared. She's been seeking answers."
Mando nodded, then trailed behind Paz towards the spacecraft, its door opening with a faint hiss as they approached. Inside, the ship was cloaked in dim light, an atmosphere of solemn tranquility hanging in the air. The Armorer was there, seated by her anvil, the orange radiance from the forge casting an ethereal glow as she worked, her helmet signifying her status and devotion to her craft.
Upon sighting Mando and Paz, she paused and looked up, her helmet tilting slightly. "Din Djarin," she acknowledged, her voice holding an undertone of respect.
Mando returned the nod, "Armorer."
She gestured towards an array of star charts sprawled out across a table. "The cosmos has shifted. You bring explanations?"
Mando took a glance at the charts, then back at the Armorer. He inhaled deeply and began recounting everything. From the Conjunction to their unexpected landing in the Marvel Universe, the alliances they had formed, the combats they had engaged in, and even the emancipation of R6.
The Armorer listened attentively, her gaze oscillating between Mando and the brightly colored droid. As Mando concluded, she paused for a moment to digest the information. Eventually, she turned back to Mando. "Our way forward is uncertain, Din Djarin," she stated, her tone filled with thoughtful contemplation. "But we are Mandalorians. We will adapt. We will prevail." Shifting her attention to R6, she added, "Welcome, to the clan."
…
A short while later…
The inside of the starship was a world away from the bustling streets of Earth, the resounding calm only broken by the soft hum of the ship's engines. Mandalorians sat around a digital projection table, their helmeted heads gravely tilted towards the light cast by the display, which was now showing an array of unfamiliar star charts.
"These are not random glitches, but real, substantial places," Mando said, his gloved finger pointing to a digital representation of Earth on the display. "This one is Earth, the planet we are currently orbiting. Technologically, their civilizations vary, with some regions still developing. However, they harbor individuals with capabilities beyond our comprehension."
A hush fell over the group as the information sank in. Mando moved his hand across the display to highlight another area of the star chart. "And this, here, is Asgard - a realm of gods and warriors. They hold immense power, something we have never encountered before. We should approach with utmost respect and caution."
Murmurs spread throughout the assembled Mandalorians, their helmeted heads turning to exchange silent glances.
"But it's important to remember," Mando continued, "We are not alone in this universe. We have allies - beings as bewildered by these events as we are, yet willing to stand with us. Beings from Earth and other worlds."
He paused for a moment, allowing the words to hang in the air. "We are currently guests on Earth, in a sanctuary called Krakoa. We are pioneers in this entirely new universe, and as always, we'll adapt."
A profound silence fell upon the room, as Mandalorians absorbed the gravity of their new situation. It was clear that they were no longer just survivors of their own galaxy, but had become explorers of an entirely different universe.
Upon noticing the nearby moon, Mando gestured towards it. "That there is where the decommissioning and study of the Imperial cruiser is happening," he explained. "The Inhumans are assisting us in the process, along with the help of former Imperial droids. They have been liberated from their enforced servitude, their control chips disabled."
He paused for effect before delivering his next piece of news. "During our initial exploration of the cruiser, we discovered something that will greatly aid us - it contained stolen Beskar steel in its storage compartments. We won't have to worry about scarcity for quite a while."
A ripple of pleased murmurs echoed around the chamber. The prospect of a renewed Beskar supply visibly lifted the mood in the room. The Armorer in particular seemed elated at the news, her usual stolid demeanor momentarily shattered by a hint of excitement.
"This is a significant discovery," The Armorer admitted, her voice echoing with barely concealed anticipation. "Beskar is more than just metal, it's a part of our culture, our identity. Having access to it is a blessing."
With that, the gathering took on a whole new energy. While they were still in uncharted territory, it felt like they had a foothold, something tangible to tie them to their Mandalorian roots as they navigated this vast, unknown universe. The presence of Beskar, their ancestral metal, brought a piece of home to these foreign stars.
As the Mandalorian ship hummed away from the moon, its cargo hold now abundant with Beskar steel, an urgent transmission beeped on the vessel's communications system. The vibrant-colored astromech droid, R-6, twittered and chirped as it decoded the incoming message, eventually translating it into Basic for the passengers on board.
"Distress signal received," R-6 intoned, its artificial voice steady. "Entity identified as Gorr the God Butcher is inbound to this star system. Assistance is requested."
Mando, his helmeted face unreadable, turned his gaze towards the droid. "Gorr the God Butcher?" he echoed, his tone steady but a hint of surprise could be detected in his voice. This entity wasn't known in their universe, the information he got from R-6, who had scoured the databases of this reality, painted a grim picture.
R-6 responded with an affirmative beep. "Affirmative, The God Butcher is particularly focused on one called Thor, who is currently in a mortal state and thus less capable than usual. Our intervention is being solicited."
For a moment, Mando didn't respond, his silence hung heavy in the cockpit. He glanced around at his crew, who were looking at him for guidance. With a curt nod, he finally broke the silence. "All right, then. We'll see what we can do to help."
…
Shortly after, the Mandalorian ship made its descent onto one of Jupiter's moons - Ganymede. The Armorer had worked swiftly, forging beskar armor for each Mandalorian, including Paz Vizsla and three other members of the guild, identified as Ketsu Onyo, Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. The extra defense was crucial considering the looming threat they were about to face.
While Jon and Arya remained in the ship with R-6, maintaining a safe distance and ready to provide any necessary support, the others disembarked. Kratos, Freya, Maggie and Negan prepared themselves for the inevitable confrontation. Maggie's armor extended combat knife-like blades, glinting ominously under the distant sun. Negan checked his ammo, then extended his own weapon, a metal baseball bat covered in gleaming spikes.
As they ventured further, they soon encountered Thor. His grip tightened around Mjolnir, his usually jovial demeanor replaced with a grim determination. The God of Thunder was mortal now, but he was far from helpless. With his friends beside him and his trusted hammer in hand, he was ready to confront his foe.
Together, they moved into position, bracing themselves for the impending arrival of Gorr, the God Butcher. They waited in tense anticipation, each second ticking by like an eternity. The moon's harsh landscape stretched out around them, a silent witness to the showdown that was about to unfold.
Finally, the moment they had been anticipating came to pass. Gorr emerged, a fearsome figure whose presence immediately chilled the atmosphere. But there was something different about him. In one hand, he gripped a mace that was not a part of his usual repertoire.
Kratos' eyes widened in recognition. The weapon was none other than the mace of Molag Bal, a Daedric Prince from the realm of Oblivion. The mace was an infamous symbol of domination and enslavement, once held by a prince who was driven to madness after being defeated by Derreck. His Penance Stare, a terrifying power borrowed from Ghost Rider, had rendered the Prince utterly insane. The mace now in Gorr's hand bore a striking resemblance to the one Derreck had destroyed, and its presence was an ill omen.
From behind Gorr emerged Molag Bal himself. His gruesome face was twisted into a wicked grin, a testament to his continued descent into madness. Incoherent noises, evidence of a mind unhinged, escaped his lips. The sight of the maddened Daedric Prince sent an additional wave of unease rippling through the gathered party. They had prepared to face Gorr, but the unexpected appearance of Molag Bal added a new layer of complexity to their predicament.
Gorr paused, allowing a moment of silence to settle over the tense scene. The God Butcher then began to weave a tale, explaining his encounter with the maddened Daedric Prince.
"I found him gnawing at a rock," Gorr began, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "His madness ran wild, his mind a torrent of chaos. But with some... re-education," he said, the word laced with a heavy dose of sadistic amusement, "I managed to soothe his insanity, at least enough to manipulate him to my advantage."
His grip tightened around the handle of the mace, holding it up in an intimidating display. "This," he said, his voice echoing in the silent expanse, "is my new favorite weapon."
The sight of the mace, now held in the hands of the God Butcher, made everyone grimace. It was a vile weapon, radiating an aura of merciless cruelty, devoid of any semblance of honor. It was an embodiment of savagery, an instrument of torture. The weapon was a perfect match for Gorr, reflecting his bloodthirsty nature and his relentless pursuit of violence against the divine.
A twisted gleam entered Gorr's eyes as he turned his gaze onto Thor. "I am going to relish this," he spoke, his words dripping with anticipation. "To deal with you, the God of Thunder, using the weapon of a fallen god." His malicious grin widened, enjoying the twisted irony of it all.
Turning his attention fully to Thor, he continued, "Tell me, how does it feel? To be reduced to the level of those you once regarded as beneath you?" He paused, as if savoring every word. "You, once a god, now a mere mortal. Humbling, isn't it?"
Gorr's words were a cruel mockery, his enjoyment of Thor's predicament evident in his tone. He relished the sight of the once mighty god, now brought down to the level of those he once protected. It was a sweet revenge for Gorr, a chance to inflict pain and humiliation upon the divine.
Thor took a moment, his gaze far off, lost in thought. As Gorr's words echoed in his mind, he could not deny the sting of their truth. He was silent for a moment, before taking a deep breath and meeting Gorr's gaze squarely.
"You are right," he admitted, surprising not only Gorr but those around him as well. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of his newfound understanding. "I have always held affection and sympathy for the mortals. But there was always... a detachment, a distance. Now that I share their plight, that distance is no more."
He paused, his gaze softening with the stirrings of a deep, newfound respect. "I see now that there was something more I could have understood, a deeper connection I could have formed... a humbling respect I wish I had known before."
As he finished speaking, there was a serene calm that settled over him. His shoulders, tense from the anticipation of the upcoming battle, relaxed. His eyes, once filled with the fiery determination of a god, now held a soft glow of compassion. Even in the face of his enemy, Thor was no longer the detached god he once was; he was a man who had found a newfound respect for the lives he was committed to protecting.
Gorr listened to Thor's words, his brow furrowed and eyes filled with suspicion. He scrutinized Thor, searching for any sign of deceit or manipulation. But he found nothing—no hint of insincerity in Thor's eyes or voice.
"Why should I believe you?" Gorr asked, his voice a low growl. He stepped closer, his grip tightening around his mace, the weapon poised and ready to strike. He was testing Thor, pushing his boundaries. But before any of the others could react, Thor raised his hand in a sign of restraint, his gaze never wavering from Gorr.
There was regret etched on Thor's face, an open admission of his past failings. It was a look Gorr had never seen on the face of a god. "You don't have to," Thor responded, his voice heavy. "You can believe what you wish. All I can do is tell you the truth of my heart."
Then, Thor did something completely unexpected. He held out Mjolnir, not in a gesture of aggression, but as an offering. It was an offer of trust, a symbol of his sincere regret and his wish to atone for his past indifference.
"I ask for your forgiveness," Thor said, his voice barely a whisper. "I regret not understanding your pain, Gorr. I regret not being there for you...for your people...when you needed someone. I was blind, and for that, I am sorry."
As he finished speaking, Thor lowered his head, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. He waited, his outstretched hand holding Mjolnir, the symbol of his power and nobility, exposed and vulnerable. He was ready to accept whatever judgment Gorr deemed necessary.
Gorr was taken aback, staring at Thor in surprise. He had expected many reactions, but this...this show of humility and regret was not one of them. He remained silent, the look in his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in Thor's words and his unexpected act of contrition. For a moment, all was quiet on the desolate moon as Gorr wrestled with his emotions, his wrath momentarily held at bay by Thor's humbling response.
Gorr's grip on his mace slackened, and slowly he lowered the weapon to the moon's cold, barren ground. He stared at Thor, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, before finally reaching out to accept the hammer.
Holding Mjolnir in his hands, Gorr scrutinized the weapon. He could feel its power, the heaviness of it seeming to mirror the weight of the decision he was grappling with. He glanced back at Thor, who still kept his head lowered, silent and respectful, allowing Gorr the space to process his emotions.
The God Butcher looked at the hammer in his hands again. He was standing at a crossroads, teetering on the brink of an important decision. The torment etched on his face was a stark display of his internal conflict. He held in his hands the power to take revenge, yet something held him back.
After what seemed like an eternity, Gorr made his choice. He handed Mjolnir back to Thor and, with a voice barely audible, whispered, "I forgive you."
He turned his back to the group, leaving the others in stunned silence. Without another word, he walked away, his solitary figure shrinking in the distance.
Behind him, Morgoth Bal, still consumed by his madness and more interested in a nearby rock than the battle he was supposed to be part of, was left for the group to deal with. He posed no threat and was easily taken into custody, marking the end of an unexpectedly peaceful confrontation.
The group watched as Gorr retreated into the distance, leaving behind an atmosphere of profound silence. Each of them grappled with the depth of what they had just witnessed.
Mando was the first to speak, his voice reverberating through the silence, "Thor... that was... unexpected." His visor hid his emotions, but the surprise in his voice was evident.
Maggie, her hand absentmindedly tracing the edge of her extended blades, said, "It was a good thing to do, Thor. The bravery of admitting our mistakes... it's not something everyone can do."
Negan, leaning against his metal bat, added, "You might've lost your godhood, Thor, but you've gained something far more important, and that's respect."
Kratos remained silent, his eyes never leaving Thor. The silence wasn't a sign of disapproval, quite the opposite. He had faced many gods in his lifetime and yet, the humility he had just witnessed was a rarity. A quiet nod from him conveyed more approval than a thousand words.
Freya stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Thor's shoulder. "In the end, Thor, you chose the path of compassion and humility. You've shown us that even in the face of your enemy, you chose peace. You've shown us what it means to be a true hero."
Back on Mando's ship, Arya and Jon watched the scene unfold from a distance. Arya broke the silence, "And brave. Not many people would expose themselves like that, offering a chance of vengeance to their enemy." Her tone was filled with newfound respect for Thor.
Jon nodded silently, agreeing with Arya. "It's a brave thing, what you did. Showing that even gods can be humble, can ask for forgiveness."
Lastly, R-6 gave a series of affirmative beeps, a clear sign of his agreement with the group. The respect for Thor was unanimous.
Thor, the former God of Thunder, had won not by power, not by violence, but by his humility, his regret, and his heart. This victory was a testament to his transformation, and his friends could not help but feel a profound respect for him.
…
Somewhere else, the portal to the alternate timeline opened up and out came a more feral beast, with a few logan clones, while a logan in the background was fighting some of his logan clones.
His initial disorientation giving way to steely determination, Beast set his sights on the island of Krakoa. The muscular, feral version of the usually sophisticated and gentle mutant was not one to be taken lightly, even in his confusion.
Upon closer inspection of his timeline device, a low growl rumbled in his chest. The timeline had undoubtedly changed, yet he was still here, a glaring inconsistency with how these situations usually played out. He should have been erased, yet he persisted. This anomaly was a puzzle he needed to solve.
Cloning was a game he knew all too well, especially when it came to Wolverine, his long-time comrade, and friend. Seeing the combat-weary Logan in the background, still battling his own clones, brought a grimace to Beast's face. It was time to get some answers.
He began moving, his large, powerful strides closing the distance towards his intended destination. He could feel the familiar pull of the Quiet Council's presence, their combined psychic energies almost a beacon for him. The council was perhaps his best shot at understanding the situation.
"Interesting, indeed," Beast murmured, his deep voice resounding through the empty space around him. He didn't know what awaited him on Krakoa or if they would even have the answers he sought. But one thing was clear - he was going to find out.
Beast, the alternate version, his moral compass drastically warped, found himself intrigued as he continued to study the newspaper. His eyes kept gravitating back to the article discussing "New Horizons," a school led by Jean Grey. An old acquaintance, Storm, along with the surprising addition of Magneto, had apparently joined Jean on the school's faculty roster.
"A school for everyone..." Beast mused aloud, his tone laced with equal parts amusement and disdain.
Jean as a principal didn't surprise him, her telepathic abilities and empathetic nature made her a fitting choice. Storm, with her elemental mastery and innate wisdom, could offer valuable teachings. But Magneto? That was a name he hadn't expected to see. In Beast's timeline, Magneto was long gone, and his steadfast belief in mutant superiority didn't seem to align with a school welcoming everyone, not just mutants.
"Either he's changed his stripes, or this isn't the Magneto I know..." Beast mumbled to himself, ruminating on the possibilities. He was dealing with an alternate timeline, after all.
As his eyes scanned the paper again, one tidbit made him pause. Godzilla had vanished since his startling appearance months ago. An intriguing puzzle piece, but how did it fit into the broader picture?
Beast's thoughts then reverted back to New Horizons. His intentions were far from benevolent, and his curiosity was not sparked by goodwill. He recognized that his presence might raise alarms if he wasn't careful; after all, he was a much darker beast than the version this timeline might know.
His gaze hardened with determination as he made his decision. He would find out more about this New Horizons, remaining shrouded in the shadows. The web of this new reality was complicated, but Beast was nothing if not resourceful, and he was eager to see how the pieces would fall into place.
As Beast was lost in his contemplations, a new and unique aroma wafted into his heightened olfactory senses. The stench of gasoline intermingled with a scent far more exotic – cosmic energy. It was an unusual combination that gave him pause.
Intrigued, Beast turned his attention to the source of the scent, his eyes falling on a yellow vintage vehicle rolling up before him. It was an old Volkswagen Beetle, a classic model known for its compact size and distinctive, rounded design.
Yet, before his very eyes, the car began to change, contorting and folding in ways that defied the laws of physics. In mere moments, the vintage vehicle was gone, replaced by a towering figure that looked remarkably like Bumblebee, a prominent character from the Transformers franchise in his original, G1 incarnation.
Beast's eyes widened in surprise. The scene unfolding before him was unexpected, even for a scientist as well-versed in strange phenomena as he was. The cosmic energy that he had detected was now making more sense, aligning with the alien nature of the Transformers.
"Well, now," Beast mused to himself, watching as Bumblebee stood tall. "This timeline continues to surpass my expectations."
Bumblebee tilted his head, his robotic eyes lighting up as he analyzed the scene before him. He reached to the side of his head, pulling up a communication device and sending out a message. "RoboCop, I've found the anomaly. Beast is here, but he's not alone. Several Logan clones are with him. I'll wait for backup." He ended the broadcast with a swift "over and out."
Just as Bumblebee finished his transmission, a figure emerged from the nearby shadows. A man, cloaked in a black coat, radiating a chilling aura that Beast instinctively recoiled from. His eyes, glowing an unsettling crimson, met Beast's own, sending an icy shiver down Beast's spine. This was a creature of darkness, of that Beast was certain. Yet there was a sense of familiarity that unnerved him further.
"That is not the Beast we know," the stranger stated, his voice as cold as his eyes. He turned his gaze toward Bumblebee. "Something is off."
Beast bristled at the stranger's words, his fur standing on end as he growled lowly. He was used to skepticism, suspicion, even fear, but this was different. "Who are you to judge what is 'off'?" he snarled, stepping forward threateningly. "And who might you be, stranger?"
Bumblebee quickly interjected, moving between the two in an attempt to defuse the tension. "Take it easy, Beast," he urged calmly. "This is Dettlaff, an ally from another universe. We're all trying to figure out this situation."
Dettlaff simply inclined his head, acknowledging Bumblebee's words, but his gaze never wavered from Beast. He was a higher vampire, a creature of the night, and Beast's unusual aura had his instincts on high alert.
Beast huffed, backing down slightly at Bumblebee's words, but his eyes remained fixed on Dettlaff. "Then perhaps you would like to share what you know about this 'conjunction'? And why I seem to be at the center of it?"
Bumblebee, taking a calming breath - a purely psychological gesture for an Autobot - attempted to explain the best he could. "The Omniverse is converging, it seems, and the focus is here, on this universe. Different timelines, realities, worlds, all merging and crossing over in a way we've never seen."
Dettlaff, who had been silent throughout Bumblebee's explanation, then turned to Beast with a critical gaze. "You originated from a timeline where your kind - mutants - are still on Krakoa, correct? And where you never banished resurrection?"
The words hung heavily in the air as Beast regarded Dettlaff with a renewed interest. His eyes narrowed as he took in Dettlaff's serious demeanor, the certainty in his voice. This was not the first time Dettlaff had asked this question, Beast realized. It seemed this stranger knew more about Beast's past than Beast would have liked. And the question itself... it bore implications that sent a chill through Beast's spine.
"Yes, that's correct," Beast finally replied, his voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Why do you ask?"
Dettlaff turned towards Beast, his crimson gaze piercing. "The truth, Beast," he began, his tone as cold as his expression, "is that you are not bringing anyone back. Those who you consider your past selves...they're left in their own limbo. All you are now... is a clone."
The weight of Dettlaff's words seemed to physically impact Beast, pushing him back a step as the reality of the situation crashed down around him. The vampire's brutal honesty brought forth a harsh reality that Beast hadn't considered, a reality that felt more like a cruel joke.
"Impossible..." Beast breathed, his eyes darting between Bumblebee and Dettlaff, desperately searching for some sign that they were lying. But they were not, and Beast could sense it. The rage building within him was palpable, a fury that was almost animalistic in its intensity. His mind raced, the full implications of Dettlaff's words crashing into him like a tidal wave.
Dettlaff's gaze remained unblinking, the stern vampire continuing his words like an unyielding executioner. "That's why they banished resurrection. It was all a lie, a false hope." He paused, the silence heavy with tension.
He shifted his gaze from Beast to the sky and then back again. "And if it makes any difference, this isn't just hearsay. Mistress Death herself told the mutants. She made it explicitly clear to them. As bitter as it may be, Beast, it's the truth."
Dettlaff's words echoed in the air, as Beast absorbed the truth of his existence. A clone. Just a clone. The very foundation of his beliefs, the justifications he'd made for his actions, all of it was based on a lie. And the realization was almost too much to bear.
Arriving on the scene, Logan cast a wary glance at the disoriented Beast and his clones. The scent of confused rage and desperation in the air was familiar to him, though it was a scent that usually belonged to his own past.
Approaching Dettlaff and Bumblebee, Logan thumbed the edge of his adamantium claws, an unspoken threat lingering in the air around them. His eyes flickered between Dettlaff, Bumblebee, and the feral version of Beast.
"Dettlaff, what's going on here?" he growled, his voice gruff with the worry that was crawling its way into his mind. The last thing they needed was more complications, more questions. And this Beast, a Beast lost in time and his own sense of identity, was certainly that.
Dettlaff nodded, his gaze hard as he stared at the feral Beast, his clones, and back to Logan. "This Beast is different," he began, his tone steady and measured. "It seems he comes from a timeline where Derreck doesn't exist, one where they kept resurrection and continued down that path of... desperation."
The vampire's brows knitted together, a contemplative hum escaping his lips. "This... alternate version of Beast appears to be the result of that original timeline. It explains the stark differences between him and the Beast we know."
Dettlaff paused, his gaze shifting back to the wild Beast and his clones. The sight of the lost, confused creatures sent a chill down his spine. "It's a grim reminder of the path they could have taken... The path they did take in another reality. This... this is why the conjunction was different. It led to their original timeline."
Logan frowned, his hands clenching at his sides. He looked at the alternate Beast, his mind racing with the implications of Dettlaff's words. "So, you're saying they're from a timeline where... we went wrong?" he grumbled, a hint of sadness creeping into his gruff voice. The thought of such a dark path for his people, his friends, was sobering.
Logan turned back to the Beast, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Alright, bub," he growled, stepping forward and gesturing to the clones flanking the alternate version of his friend. "Start talking. Why've you got these clones of me? What're you planning?"
Beast's reaction would be critical to understanding his intentions, whether they were as dark as the path he had taken in his timeline or if there was a chance for redemption. Either way, they needed answers, and Beast was the only one who could provide them.
A shadow seemed to pass over Beast's face, and for a moment, the familiar figure of their comrade seemed far more menacing. He took a deep breath, and then began to talk, his voice a low rumble.
"I... I had a plan, you see," he admitted, sounding somewhere between regretful and defiant. "There were... threats. Threats to us, to our people. I thought... I thought I could use you, Logan, to eliminate them. To keep us safe. The Quiet Council didn't know, of course. It was all done in secret."
The words came tumbling out, Beast recounting how he had killed Logan at an auction and claimed the right to kill him. He spoke of a collar, a terrible device used to control Logan, transforming him back into the weapon he had once been under the Weapon X project.
"But you... you fought back," Beast continued, a strange look in his eyes as he looked at Logan. "You killed me, and that was when I began to clone us. I was trying to escape... trying to escape you, when I suddenly found myself here."
His explanation hung heavy in the air, a stark testament to the dark path that this version of Beast had walked. The severity of his actions were not lost on Logan, Dettlaff, or Bumblebee, and it was clear that they had a difficult situation on their hands.
"Did... Laura... go into the vault?" Logan asked. His voice was measured, but the fear in his eyes betrayed the gravity of his question.
"Yes," Beast confirmed, the regret in his voice palpable. "There were two Lauras. One we resurrected, and another that we kept in suspension inside the vault. She... she never died. But when last we saw her, she was a mess."
Beast's gaze landed heavily on Logan, his words laden with accusation. "You were so consumed by your rage, Logan. You weren't there for her. You just... drowned yourself in drink. Till there was nothing left."
There was a moment of silence as Beast's words echoed around them. The air was heavy with the unspoken implications of Beast's words, a damning testament to the path Logan had once walked, and the horrors that this alternate timeline had endured.
"One last question... Did the Judgment Day event happen? Did you resurrect anyone else?" Logan's voice was hard now, a sharpened edge in his tone that was impossible to ignore.
Beast nodded slowly, regret visible in his eyes. "Yes... We did resurrect many after the Judgment Day event. Humans included. Captain America was among them."
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze falling to the ground. "But Magneto... he was gone. He and Storm severed contact with Xavier, couldn't bear to witness what he had become... And in the end, they destroyed all the backups. Before..." Beast swallowed, his voice barely a whisper, "before Magneto was killed by Uranos."
The quiet that fell was oppressive, each word from Beast's mouth seeming to echo around them in a chilling reminder of the path they had narrowly avoided.
"You know... If I was still the old Logan... I would have killed you by now," Logan's voice was low, every word carefully weighted. "But I'm not the Logan you know... We don't live under the illusion of resurrection here... We have something better... Hope."
With that, he turned his back on Beast, walking away with a newfound determination. Over his shoulder, he directed his words to Dettlaff, Bumblebee, and both Robocops who had just arrived on the scene.
"Take them into custody... gently," he instructed, his voice resolute. He didn't even spare a backward glance, leaving the task in their capable hands.