X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 2, Omniverse Saga

by abcd12344321

As the omniverse breach grows so does the villains, kroako which was once for mutants is now a haven for all, and as they keep poring through so do new allies. The game has been set. Now it's the age of Heros, monsters, and villains.

14. Chapter 14

X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 2, Omniverse Saga

Chapter 14: Van Helsing, Igor and Dracula

…

Still nursing the bitter taste of the last dregs of his drink, Jareth was losing the battle against his fury. His vision turned hazy with alcohol and anger, his nostrils flaring with each breath he took. The mere thought of the mutants, his supposed brethren, consorting with humans and aliens, building schools together was enough to push him over the edge.

His gaze fell upon the human bartender. The man was just going about his job, wiping down the counter, unaware of the tempest brewing in Jareth. But to the mutant, he was an embodiment of all that he had come to despise.

"You! You're all the same," he slurred, staggering to his feet, pointing an unsteady finger at the bartender. The bar hushed as all eyes turned to him. The bartender, taken aback, attempted to pacify him, but it was too late. Jareth was past the point of reasoning.

With an inarticulate roar, he released a blast of energy, aiming at the bartender. But his intoxicated state made him lose control, and the energy exploded in all directions, blasting apart the bar and those unfortunate enough to be within its radius.

When the dust settled, the bar was nothing more than a pile of debris, and Jareth was the only one left standing in the wreckage, an expression of wild, unhinged satisfaction on his face. He was past caring, past feeling any remorse. This was only the beginning. The mutants of Krakoa would pay, he vowed. There would be blood.

The rising sun painted the horizon in hues of orange and pink, the serene beauty of the dawn in stark contrast to the turbulent atmosphere within the newly established New Horizons School. Word had traveled fast about Jareth's outburst, reaching the ears of the very mutants he resented.

Jean Grey, acting as the head in the absence of Charles Xavier, was the first to hear the news. An icy chill of dread washed over her as she listened to the grim report, her mind picturing the scene of destruction that Jareth had left behind. Her heart ached for the innocent lives lost, for the man Jareth once was, and for the disaster he had now become.

Quickly, she gathered the senior members of the X-Men, her mind heavy with the burden of the news she was about to deliver. In the large, austere meeting room, Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, stood by the window, her eyes mirroring the brewing storm in her heart. Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, was there, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Magneto, the imposing figure that he was, entered the room, his features etched with lines of worry.

As Jean began to relay the news, a somber silence filled the room. Shock registered on their faces, giving way to a shared feeling of betrayal and grief. Each of them had known Jareth, fought alongside him, and to hear of the path he had taken was a blow.

Once the news was fully shared, the room was filled with a stunned silence, the severity of the situation settling heavily on their shoulders. Jean's eyes scanned the room, meeting each of their gazes. The decision was unanimous. They would intervene. They would have to stop Jareth before he caused more harm.

Storm was the first to rise, her voice steady, "We cannot stand by and let this continue. We must bring Jareth to justice."

Magneto nodded in agreement, his eyes hard, "He's one of us. It's our responsibility to correct this."

Nightcrawler, always the compassionate soul, added softly, "We must also remember that Jareth is troubled. He needs help."

As plans began to form, the X-Men knew they were on the precipice of a significant conflict. It was not just about one rogue mutant but a symbol of the lingering tension between mutants and the rest of the world. The responsibility was massive, but they were ready. They had to be.

The doors of the meeting room flew open, a small, panicked whirlwind named Jubilee bursting through with wide, terrified eyes. She was panting hard, sweat plastered hair to her forehead, a clear sign of the gravity of the news she was about to relay.

"It's worse! Worse than we thought!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her voice echoing in the tense silence of the room. All eyes were instantly on her, the previous conversations coming to a halt.

"He's holding hostages," Jubilee continued, her voice wavering with the stress of the situation, "And he's threatening to blow them sky high!"

A ripple of alarm swept across the room. Hostages. The situation had escalated beyond what any of them could have predicted. Jareth was spiraling, his anger transforming into a reckless desperation that made him more dangerous than ever.

"The police are on the scene with Nick Fury," Jubilee added, her voice growing more frantic with each word.

As if this was not dire enough, her next words made the situation even more complicated.

"And he's demanding for Derreck to face him!"

A stunned silence followed. Derreck. The very being that Jareth held responsible for the mutant's plight. It was clear now that Jareth was not just out for revenge; he was out to make a statement, and he didn't care who got caught in the crossfire.

The gravity of the situation sunk in. Their next move had to be calculated, precise. They could not afford to let this situation escalate any further. Lives were at stake now, and they had to act.

…

Within moments, the X-Men had mobilized. Derreck, Logan, and the two Robocops arrived on scene, their faces set in grim determination. The Robocops were tasked with crowd control, their imposing figures and authoritative presence being used to keep the panicked crowds at a safe distance. Ciri was there too, a silent, watchful presence in the background. Her powers could serve as an essential backup if things went sideways.

The scene was a chaos of flashing police lights, frightened onlookers, and a palpable tension that hung thick in the air. The sight of Jareth, the mutant in question, was a jarring one - a figure in the middle of the scene, a vicious sneer on his face as he held innocent civilians' hostage.

They knew they had to tread carefully. Any false move could provoke Jareth into making good on his threat. The lives of the hostages were hanging in the balance, dependent on the actions they were about to take. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast.

As the team assessed the situation, Logan's gaze fell upon Derreck. The stakes were high and they all knew that Derreck was the key to resolving this. The mutant's demand was clear - he wanted Derreck to face him.

The team took a collective breath, preparing themselves for what was to come. They knew this wasn't going to be easy, but they were ready to do whatever it took to defuse the situation and save the innocent lives at risk. Now, it was time to act.

…

A few minutes later…

As Derreck entered the building, the air was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the calm that he carried within him. His footfalls echoed softly through the room, the only sound in the chilling silence that had descended.

There he was. Jarroth. A picture of seething anger and resentment. His glare met Derreck's steady gaze, but Derreck didn't waver. It was time to address the elephant in the room, however unpleasant it might be.

"Jarroth," Derreck began, his voice resonating through the tense atmosphere, yet maintaining a calm and collected demeanor. "You're acting out. This...this is not the way to express your frustrations. You're behaving like a child, throwing a tantrum."

He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze never left Jarroth as he continued. "We all feel the sting of changes and circumstances beyond our control. It's a part of life, Jarroth. It's what shapes us, defines us. But lashing out, hurting innocent people...this isn't the solution. This isn't how you cope."

His voice echoed in the silence that followed, a powerful counterpoint to Jarroth's rage. His message was clear and unwavering. No excuses or justifications would make this behavior acceptable. It was time for Jarroth to confront this harsh reality.

Jarroth's face contorted with anger, his eyes bore into Derreck with a fury that could have set the world ablaze. "Everything we had, everything we fought for... it's all gone now, because of YOU!" His voice roared through the building, a tumultuous storm of rage and despair. The grip on his hostage tightened, a clear threat underlining his words.

Derreck looked at him, his expression remaining firm. He let out a long breath, his hand raising as a rift to Limbo tore open next to him. With a swift pull, a figure emerged, blinking in the sudden light. A familiar figure, one that made Jarroth's blood run cold. His sister.

"You're wrong, Jarroth," Derreck stated, his gaze not wavering from the shocked mutant. "Everything isn't gone. And as for what you've been doing..." He gestured to the woman standing beside him, her eyes wide and her gaze fixed on her brother. "Let's hear what she has to say about it."

For a few seconds there was silence. Before she spoke.

"Jarroth," she began, her voice wavering yet strong, carrying through the room. "What have you become? I look at you, and I don't see my brother. I don't see the boy who made me laugh, who comforted me when I was scared. I don't see any of the love or kindness you once held."

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn't break her gaze from her brother. "This rage, this bitterness… it's not you. It's not the Jarroth I knew and loved. You've lost your way, and in the process, you've lost me."

She took a deep breath, her gaze hardening. "I can't… I can't stand by you, not when you've become this. Not when you've let your anger and resentment dictate your actions. So, I'm renouncing our familial ties, Jarroth. You are no longer my brother."

Her voice broke, but her gaze was resolute. "But I hope… I hope that the boy I knew is still in there somewhere. That he still has the will to do what's right in the end." And with that, her soul drifted back to Limbo, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

The room fell into a deafening silence as her words echoed in the air. Jarroth stood still, his hand that once threatened his hostage with fatal force dropped limply by his side. His wide eyes were locked onto the spot where his sister's soul had vanished back into limbo, a gaping void in his world where she used to be.

It was as if time stood still, the moment seemed to stretch into eternity as the reality of his sister's words started to sink in. His breathing became ragged, his hands started to shake, and his strong stance faltered. The hostages slowly crept away from him, fear in their eyes, but he paid them no mind.

Then, suddenly, it was as if all the energy drained out of him. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he clutched his chest. His body shook with violent sobs, a heartbroken wail echoing in the room. His grief was palpable, a raw and open wound on display for all to see.

His anger, his resentment, had cost him the one person he cared for most in the world. The realization was too much for him. His world crumbled around him, his vision blurred with hot tears, and he let out a hollow, wretched sob that echoed in the eerie silence. His heart had been shattered, and in his despair, he had nothing left. His life as he knew it was over.

In that moment, Jarroth was no longer the enraged, powerful mutant that threatened a city. He was just a broken man, weeping in agony over the love he lost, over the bond that had been irrevocably severed by his own actions. The room was filled with the haunting sound of his sorrow, a stark reminder of the tragic consequences of his actions.

With a heavy heart, Derreck stepped forward, putting a comforting hand on Jarroth's trembling shoulder. He didn't flinch or pull away, simply allowing the contact, too lost in his grief to care about anything else.

Derreck's voice was soft and empathetic as he began to guide him, "Come on, Jarroth. Let's get you out of here."

Jarroth allowed himself to be led, his eyes glazed over, his body moving mechanically. He seemed to have aged years in mere minutes, his frame hunched and fragile, like a man who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for far too long.

The hostages, shaken and scared, trailed behind them. Their terrified gazes lingered on the broken figure of the man who had held their lives in his hands just moments before.

Despite the chilling scene they'd witnessed, there was an almost reverential silence that fell upon the onlookers as Derreck gently guided Jarroth out of the building. His grief was so raw, so visceral, it demanded respect. It was a painful reminder of the depths to which despair could drive a person.

As they stepped out into the open, the sunlight harsh against their eyes, it felt like stepping out of a dark tunnel into a new beginning. But for Jarroth, his journey was just beginning. The road to redemption was a long one, and he had a lot to answer for. But right now, in this moment, he was just a man mourning the loss of his sister's love and respect.

Once SHIELD agents had Jarroth securely in their custody, a heavy silence hung over the group. The relief was palpable, but so too was the shared dread of facing the aftermath. Storm, Jean, Nightcrawler, Magneto, Logan, and Nick Fury all turned to Derreck, their eyes reflecting their unasked questions.

"What happened in there, Derreck?" Storm finally broke the silence, her voice soft and concerned.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Derreck turned to them, his own eyes weary. "I gave him what he wanted," he began, his voice slightly strained, "I brought his sister back from Limbo."

The revelation hung in the air like a cloud, casting a shadow over the group. Jean was the first to react, her eyes widening as she took in the implications of what Derreck had done. "And… how did that go?" she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Derreck let out a long sigh. "As you might expect," he said, his voice heavy, "it wasn't a pleasant family reunion."

They all exchanged looks of understanding. It was a harsh reality, but it was the only way to get through to Jarroth. There was nothing else to be said; they could only hope that this painful lesson would be enough for Jarroth to start his path to redemption.

…

After the tense standoff with Jarroth, Logan, Ciri, and Derreck returned to Krakoa, their nerves still fraught from the confrontation. The others—Storm, Jean, Nightcrawler, Magneto, and Nick Fury—headed back to the New Horizons School and SHIELD headquarters, all of them in desperate need of respite from the day's events.

Fortuitously, there was a reprieve on the horizon. The island was hosting a beach day as part of the summer festivities, and an open invitation had been extended far and wide. Characters from all walks of life and various realms were present.

Sonic was there, his speed leaving trails in the sand, while Mario and Princess Peach enjoyed a friendly game of beach volleyball. From the Disney realm, Hercules and Meg laughed and splashed in the waves, while Ariel and her husband Eric built an intricate sandcastle.

The Witcher's Geralt and Yennefer were there too, Yennefer's pregnancy clearly visible now. Their companions Lambert and his lover Kira were also present, Kira proudly showing off her own growing baby bump.

From the Norse pantheon, Kratos was there with his family - his daughters Calliope and Perseis, his first wife Lysandra, and the Nordic gods Freya and Tyr. Atreus was there too with Angrboda, their presence drawing a gentle smile from Thrudd, Thor's daughter.

Despite the diverse assortment of guests, the atmosphere was relaxed and joyous. For today, at least, they were all able to set aside their differences and enjoy the simple pleasures of sun, sand, and companionship. It was a much-needed break from the trials and tribulations of their lives.

…

Off to the side of the boisterous crowd, Laura and Derreck found a quieter space to unwind. Their children, Orion and Aorara, were completely engrossed in the sand, building elaborate castles alongside Grogu. Their tiny faces lit up with intense concentration as they carefully shaped the mounds of sand, their laughter ringing out whenever the waves washed their creations away.

Laura leaned back into Derreck's chest, a content sigh escaping her lips as she settled into his warmth. Derreck's arm encircled her, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. The joyous shouts and laughter of their friends were a comforting backdrop to this moment of peace, a testament to the calm after the storm they had weathered.

They watched as their children continued to play, the sun casting long shadows as it began to descend. There was a sense of completeness, a feeling that despite the challenges they had faced, this moment was worth it. As the sky turned into hues of orange and pink, Laura and Derreck savored the tranquility, their hearts full with the love and laughter surrounding them.

…

The following morning, the Logan from the original timeline found himself isolated in his room, grappling with the harsh realities that had been thrust upon him. The concept of resurrection, once a beacon of hope, had morphed into a deceptive illusion that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Yet, what disturbed him the most was his own actions, his lack of control. The image of him attacking Laura, his own flesh and blood, haunted his every waking moment. He had allowed his rage to consume him, his focus so narrowed on getting to Beast that he'd cast aside all reason, all compassion.

He could still see the shock in Laura's eyes, the swift transition from concern to fear as he'd lashed out. The memory alone was enough to induce a wave of nausea, a sickening churn in his gut that refused to subside. He'd hurt his daughter, the young woman he'd watched grow, protected and loved. It was an action that cut him to the core, a horrifying testament to the darkness he was capable of.

Alone with his thoughts, he was forced to confront his deeds. The room felt suffocating, a prison of his own guilt and self-loathing. The walls seemed to close in on him, reflecting back his actions in stark clarity. The silence was deafening, each tick of the clock a reminder of his deeds.

He sat there, his body hunched and weary, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. The remorse was palpable, seeping into the very pores of his skin, a painful reminder of his loss of control. He was Logan, a warrior, a protector, a father... and he had failed.

Snapped out of his downward spiral of guilt, Logan was surprised by the sudden knock at his door. The invitation to enter was barely out of his lips before the door swung open, revealing Laura, the Logan with the metal arm, and his mother. The trio from the dark multiverse had become familiar faces recently.

Laura entered first, her usual fiery spirit slightly dimmed by the somber mood. Despite the alternate timeline she hailed from, she bore a strong resemblance to his own Laura, and that itself brought both comfort and pain. Behind her, the other Logan followed. His metal arm shone dimly in the room's muted lighting, a constant reminder of the different paths each of them had walked.

Finally, his mother from the dark multiverse entered. Her presence was a comforting one, reminiscent of a past that felt too distant to touch. A past where he was merely a boy under her care. She held a soft expression, one that had nurtured him through trials and tribulations in a different reality, her gaze filled with motherly concern and love.

They didn't say anything at first. The room was filled with a solemn silence, the tension hanging thick. It was Laura who broke the quiet, her voice surprisingly gentle, "Logan, we're here for you. You're not alone."

His other self, the one with the metal arm, gave a curt nod of agreement, his gaze firm, "We all make mistakes, we all lose control. What matters now is how we handle it."

But it was his mother's words that hit him the hardest, "You're my son, no matter where you come from or what you've done. Remember, it's never too late to make things right."

The room filled with an atmosphere of understanding and compassion, the harsh reality of his actions met with not judgment, but empathy. This was a family. His family, despite the twisted realities that had brought them together. As Logan sat there, surrounded by the strange comfort of his family from another universe, he found himself starting to believe in the possibility of redemption.

The room fell into a poignant silence once again, allowing the comforting words to hang in the air. Then, in a gesture so simple yet incredibly powerful, his mother from the dark multiverse leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. He froze at the contact, his mind scrambling to process the unexpected tenderness. It was a feeling he had not experienced in a long time. He felt her warmth seep into him, her quiet strength offering a refuge from the storm raging within his mind.

As he sat there, his tough exterior began to crumble. He had always been the solid rock, the unbreakable force that others relied upon. But in that moment, under his mother's gentle hold, he felt like a small boy again. A lost boy in desperate need of his mother's solace.

A strangled sob escaped his lips. And then the tears came, fast and unrelenting. His body shook with the force of his sobs, grief and guilt pouring out of him in waves. But his mother held on, her grip firm and unwavering. "It's okay, Logan," she whispered gently. "It's okay to cry. It's okay to feel. You're not alone anymore."

And so, he let himself cry. He let himself mourn for the mistakes he had made, for the pain he had caused. And as he wept, held tightly by his mother, he felt a burden lift from his shoulders. The world hadn't come to an end. He was allowed to make mistakes. He was allowed to feel, to hurt, and to heal.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with emotions, but there was also a sense of release. For the first time in a long while, Logan felt like he could breathe again. As his sobs slowly died down, replaced by quiet sniffs, he was met with a sense of calm and understanding. His family was here, not to judge him, but to support him in his darkest hour.

…

Fast forwarding a bit and the eclectic team consisting of Logan from this timeline, the Logan from the original timeline, Ahsoka, Mando, Ciri, Logan2, Regis, and Geralt found themselves investigating another strange conjunction. The new arrivals seemed to be an odd pairing, a monk-like man in simple robes, and another claiming to be the infamous Van Helsing, wielding a curiously steampunk-themed crossbow that fired bolts at an alarmingly fast rate.

The group found the pair in a monastery, deep in a peaceful dialogue with the resident monks. Their sudden appearance had been quite a shock to the secluded brotherhood, but they seemed to be handling the situation with a composed grace that was characteristic of their way of life.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," Logan grumbled, peering at the newcomers from a distance. He could sense an odd aura around them, a telltale sign of their interdimensional origins.

"Aye," Geralt concurred, his Witcher senses picking up on the same oddity. "They're not from around here, that's for sure."

They watched as the monks interacted with the newcomers. Van Helsing, if that was indeed his real name, was engaging the monks with an animated tale of one of his 'hunts', his hands miming the action as he talked, the steampunk crossbow gleaming ominously in the ambient light. Meanwhile, the monk-like figure sat in peaceful contemplation, his demeanor serene and unperturbed despite the strange situation.

"This is going to be a tough one," Ahsoka observed, her arms folded across her chest. "We need to approach this carefully."

Logan nodded, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Yeah, let's just hope they're as peaceful as they appear."

With their plan of action decided, the team moved in cautiously, ready to address yet another dimension-distorted situation.

As the group approached the new arrivals, the trio of Logans took the lead, their similar appearances catching Van Helsing's attention instantly. "Triplets, I presume?" he inquired, a touch of amusement in his eyes.

"Something like that," Logan from this timeline replied, his voice gruff but non-threatening.

Van Helsing's eyes then landed on Geralt, his golden, feline eyes prompting a curious look. However, when his gaze landed on Ahsoka, his eyebrows shot up, momentarily taken aback by the alien Jedi's appearance. "I must say, this is quite a motley crew you have," he commented, his voice indicating more fascination than alarm.

When he finally noticed Mando, clad in his Beskar armor, carrying an array of unique weapons, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "And a knight in... I must admit, I'm not sure what kind of armor that is."

"Beskar," Mando replied simply, causing Van Helsing to chuckle.

"Just when I thought I'd seen it all," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement.

However, the lightness in his tone vanished as soon as his eyes landed on Regis. His body stiffened, his hand instinctively moving towards the steampunk crossbow by his side. His face drained of color as he stuttered out, "You're... a vampire...?"

Regis met his gaze steadily, his voice calm as he replied, "I am, indeed. But I assure you, I mean no harm."

Van Helsing remained silent for a moment, studying Regis, his hand still hovering over his weapon. After a tense moment, he slowly relaxed, letting his hand fall away from the crossbow. "Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything. Including meeting a vampire who doesn't wish to drain me of my life."

The tension in the air dissipated as Van Helsing accepted the situation, his previous shock giving way to curiosity and a renewed interest in the extraordinary group in front of him.

Karl's eyes were wide with terror as they landed on Regis. He recoiled visibly, his breath hitching in his chest as he stammered out, "B-but he's a vampire! We can't just... just stand here and talk to him!"

Van Helsing gave Karl a sidelong glance, a mixture of patience and mild annoyance crossing his features. "Karl," he said in a warning tone, "we're not in Transylvania anymore. And I've told you, not all creatures are evil just because of what they are."

"But he's a vampire!" Karl exclaimed, his voice squeaking in panic.

Van Helsing sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And he's also not attacking us. Besides, look around. We're surrounded by people... or beings... that we never even knew existed. We were just leaving Transylvania when... poof! We found ourselves here. We don't even know how or why. So for now, we have to adapt, understand?"

Karl swallowed nervously, shooting another terrified glance at Regis. After a moment, he gave a shaky nod, murmuring, "Alright... I understand."

The rest of the group watched the interaction quietly. They could sympathize with the fear and confusion that Karl was experiencing. After all, they too had found themselves in this strange place without any warning. It was a lot to take in, and they understood the need for patience and understanding as everyone tried to navigate this unfamiliar situation.

Logan, with the two other Logans, Ahsoka, Mando, Ciri, and Regis all gathered around, began to explain the current situation. "Your not in our own universe anymore, you were brought here by an event known as the Conjunction. There are others who've found their way here as well," Logan explained, meeting the confused gazes of Van Helsing and Karl.

"In this world, there are vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and other... well, let's just say that many beings people in your time would label as monsters exist here," Logan added. He shifted in his seat, leaning his elbows onto the table. "Including Dracula. But he doesn't go by Count in this world. Finds it offensive."

Karl's eyes widened with fear, but before he could say anything, a stern glance from Van Helsing silenced him.

"Dracula can be... misunderstood," Logan continued, his voice soft yet stern. "He's not the monster you might think he is. In fact, he even aided a man known as Captain America during a global conflict known as World War II."

"A... World War?" Van Helsing asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yep, two of them," Logan confirmed, nodding slightly. "The world as you know it has changed drastically, Van Helsing. This... this is the year 2023."

Karl gasped, a hand going up to his mouth in shock. Van Helsing was silent, clearly trying to process this new information. "2023..." he repeated quietly, his face pale.

Logan continued, "Every universe is different. Some are still in the Stone Age, while others have technologies so advanced that they've constructed massive ships that can traverse the cosmos, carrying beings of various races between stars and planets."

Van Helsing slowly nodded, determination glinting in his eyes. "We'll adapt," he declared, sharing a look with Karl. "We always do."

Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his neck before he continued. "There's...something else you should know. In this world, there are many gods... Thor, Odin, Zeus... many, many gods. We interact with them on a daily basis. They're as much a part of this world as you and me."

Karl blinked in disbelief, sharing a bewildered look with Van Helsing.

"Thor is a hero in this world," Logan added, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "He's not just some myth. He actually helps protect the mortal realm. And there are other versions of these gods too. They've found their way here, same as you."

Logan paused, letting the information sink in. Van Helsing seemed to have grasped the situation faster than Karl, his expression serious but accepting.

"Just wait till you meet Atreus," Logan said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "In his world, he's known as Loki. His father is Kratos, the son of Zeus."

Van Helsing sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That's... a lot to take in," he admitted. But his gaze was resolute, determined. "We'll adjust. We always do."

Logan took a deep breath, knowing that the next revelation might be the hardest for Van Helsing and Karl to digest. "There's... someone else we should mention. The Core, we call it," he started, glancing at his companions to see if they wanted to add anything.

Regis picked up the explanation from there. "The Core is God, in the Christian sense of the term. He is from the original universe, the center of all existence. It's a concept we are all still coming to terms with," he said, casting a glance at Logan, who gave a gruff nod of agreement.

"Quite overwhelming, I must say," added Ahsoka, her voice soft yet firm.

Logan took over again. "We've also encountered... the Serpent. Yes, that Serpent. The Devil himself. And he's as powerful as you can imagine. Maybe even more so."

Van Helsing's eyebrows shot up at that. "The Devil?"

Logan nodded. "If you ever encounter him, prayer is your best bet. The Core has intervened before when asked. It's... hard to explain. But we've seen it happen."

Van Helsing fell silent, his gaze distant as he processed all the information. Karl, on the other hand, looked as though he had been struck by lightning.

"Extraordinary," was all Van Helsing could say.

"One last thing you should know," Regis began, his crimson eyes meeting Van Helsing's apprehensive gaze, "is that I don't drink blood. Not for a long time now. In my world, blood is more akin to a drug than actual sustenance."

A beat passed before he continued, a faint smile playing on his lips, "I actively avoid it, much like a man would strive to abstain from an addictive substance. Though, I must confess, I do enjoy some wine from time to time."

A sense of relief seemed to wash over Van Helsing, even as he watched Regis warily. The centuries-old vampire hunter had encountered all kinds of monsters in his life, but never before had he seen a vampire renouncing his bloodthirsty nature. It was an intriguing concept, one he would surely take his time to understand. Karl, on the other hand, remained silent, observing Regis closely.

Logan2's instincts were razor sharp, his senses honed by years of battles. As he stood, his nostrils flared, catching the distinct, yet unfamiliar scent that permeated the air.

"I smell someone... something's watching us... smells akin to a troll, but more foul... it's by the window," Logan2 murmured, his eyes flickering to the darkened window nearby.

The room immediately fell into a tense silence, each individual there immediately alert to the potential danger. Then, there was movement outside – a rustle of leaves, the crunch of twigs under heavy weight. It was subtle but to trained ears, it was loud as a siren.

Without missing a beat, the two other Logans, Ciri, Regis, Mando, and Van Helsing sprang into action, swiftly yet quietly moving towards the door. Ahsoka and the original timeline's Logan stayed behind, their positions strategic, prepared to protect the monks at all costs.

Stepping out into the chilly night, the group scanned their surroundings, their eyes darting from one shadow to another. The scent was stronger now, a foul stench that made their noses wrinkle. It was close, very close. Gently, Ciri unsheathed her sword, the quiet whisper of steel sending a ripple of anticipation through the group. Their every muscle was taut, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice as they moved towards the source of the disturbance, ready to confront whatever creature lurked in the darkness.

Van Helsing's eyes widened in recognition as he spotted the creature. A monstrosity he was all too familiar with from his own world, a Druargee. Its twisted, grotesque form was illuminated by the pale moonlight, sending shivers down his spine. It was here, and it was snarling at him.

He watched as it wheeled around, attempting to make a run for it. But the creature's desperate dash was cut off abruptly. In a blur of motion, Regis was suddenly in its path, his imposing form appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

With surprising agility and strength, Regis captured the thrashing creature, his hands closing around it with an iron grip. Its cries of panic echoed through the quiet night, but they were soon stifled as Regis skillfully held the beast, preventing it from escaping.

The sight of the vampire restraining the Druargee, a creature of nightmares, was an ironic and somewhat surreal scene to behold. There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone absorbed what had just happened. Their vigilance never faltered, their eyes remaining watchful of the surrounding shadows. Yet, for the moment, the immediate threat had been neutralized.

…

With the Druargee restrained and secured to a chair, Van Helsing and Karl found themselves in the spotlight. Every eye in the room was focused on them as they prepared to provide an explanation.

"Druragees are..." Van Helsing began, casting a wary eye over the snarling beast, "...They're abominations. Beings from the nether realms of our world."

Karl stepped in to continue, his face a mask of distaste as he glanced at the creature. "They are bloodthirsty and relentless. They attack without provocation and show no mercy. Their purpose is simple - to wreak havoc and destruction."

Van Helsing added, "Druragees are said to be conjured by those who practice dark arts. They are not natural creatures, they don't belong in our world... or this one for that matter."

Their expressions were grim, underscoring the severity of their words. The room was quiet, the only sound the restless shifting of the captive Druargee.

"So," Logan began, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall, "what can we do about it? Is there any way to send it back where it came from?"

"That's a good question," Van Helsing said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Back home, we'd have to rely on powerful exorcists to banish these creatures. But in this world... I'm not so sure."

Regis, his keen vampiric senses attuned to the creature's every movement and sound, picked up on something that the others missed. Amidst the tattered and dirt-streaked clothing the Druragee was wearing, a small emblem glinted. His eyes narrowed, recognizing the symbol.

"Hold on," Regis said, stepping closer to the restrained creature. He pointed at the emblem, a beautifully detailed dragon, surprisingly similar to the design on Van Helsing's ring. "This...it's the same as your ring, isn't it, Van Helsing?"

The room fell quiet as everyone turned their attention to the emblem and then to Van Helsing, who had a surprised look on his face. He examined the dragon emblem on the creature's coat and then looked down at his ring.

"You're right," Van Helsing admitted, a frown etching itself onto his face. "This is the same symbol. But how... and why?"

His gaze moved back to the creature, his mind reeling with implications. The Druragee, despite its monstrous form, was somehow connected to him, or at least to something from his world. He found himself caught in a whirlwind of questions and possibilities, with one clear truth: this was no coincidence.

"Geralt, if you would be so kind as to cast axii, maybe it would be willing to talk?" Regis suggested.

"Very well," Geralt replied, his voice low and thoughtful. He stepped forward, his amber eyes locked onto the captive Druragee. He moved his hands in a rhythmic motion, casting the Axii sign, a calming aura radiating from his being towards the creature.

The effect was almost immediate. The Druragee, which had been thrashing and snarling in its restraints, started to grow quieter, its eyes dulling slightly as the effect of the sign took hold.

"Now," Geralt began, his voice soft yet commanding. "You're going to tell us what you know. Start with that emblem you're wearing. Why does it match the symbol on Van Helsing's ring?"

The Druragee's eyes darted to Van Helsing and then to the ring on his finger. It took a moment, as if processing the question under the calming influence of Axii, before it began to speak, its voice grating and rough yet laced with a begrudging compliance.

The Druragee's voice was scratchy and hoarse, as if it hadn't been used for regular speech in a long time. "Master," it hissed, its eyes flicking towards Van Helsing. "Master is given second chance...you...you kill him...but now he return...he return in this world."

Van Helsing's face paled slightly at this revelation. "You're saying Dracula...is here, in this world?" His voice was steady, but there was a glint of apprehension in his eyes. Dracula was a formidable adversary, one that Van Helsing had barely managed to kill in their previous encounter.

The Druragee merely nodded, a wicked grin stretching across its grotesque features. "Yes, Hunter...Dracula lives." The creature seemed to take pleasure in delivering this piece of news, its grin becoming wider at the evident shock on Van Helsing's face.

Silence fell over the group as they processed this piece of information. The tension was palpable, each one aware of the potential threat that Dracula's presence posed. The confrontation with the monster had turned into a dire warning - Dracula was back, and he was in their world.

The Druragee suddenly erupted into a fit of raspy, mirthless laughter, its yellowed teeth glistening under the moonlight. As it writhed in its restraints, Geralt quickly stepped in and cast another Axii sign on the creature, dulling its wild glee.

"Tell us, where is he?" Geralt demanded, his tone steely.

The Druragee, now calmer, regarded them all with an unsettling grin. "This world's Transylvania," it croaked, "Master overthrew the pathetic creature that once ruled. Now he gathers... amasses his forces. Ready for... something big."

A frisson of dread passed through the group at the creature's ominous words. "What 'something big'?" Logan asked, his tone gruff.

The Druragee's grin widened. "He seeks an old... acquaintance," it replied, its eyes flicking toward Van Helsing and Karl. "The monster you once aided... the creature you thought was a friend... he waits for him."

The words fell heavy in the still air, carrying with them the weight of a yet unknown, but no less foreboding threat. Whatever Dracula was planning, it wouldn't be good - for them, or for this world.

As the Druragee's words sank in, recognition flashed across Van Helsing and Karl's faces. The 'monster' that the creature referred to wasn't a monster at all – it was Frankenstein's creature from their world. A being they once fought alongside in their battle against Dracula.

"Frankenstein's creature..." Karl murmured, his face ashen. Van Helsing nodded, a grim determination setting in his eyes.

"Yes," Van Helsing acknowledged. "If Dracula seeks him, then we have to find him first. The creature was once a friend...an ally. He doesn't deserve to be a pawn in Dracula's wicked games."

The sense of urgency heightened among the group. Frankenstein's creature, despite his monstrous appearance, was an innocent caught up in the supernatural chaos of their world. Now, the possibility of him being used as a weapon in Dracula's scheme was a danger they couldn't ignore.

"We will find him," Van Helsing vowed. "And we'll put a stop to whatever Dracula's planning. Together."

The Druragee's mocking laughter echoed around the room, grating against their nerves. His voice, filled with a gleeful, deranged joy, was a taunting reminder of the impending danger that they had to face. It was enough to exhaust Geralt's tolerance.

In one swift, precise movement, Geralt drew his silver sword and with a sharp swing, the head of the Druragee separated from its body. The laughter abruptly stopped, its echo lingering eerily in the silence that followed. The creature's decapitated body slumped, lifeless in the chair. The tension in the room eased, their focus already shifting to the daunting task ahead.

…

Minutes after their grizzly encounter with the Druragee, the group had departed the scene, leaving behind the responsibility of cleaning up the remains of the creature to S.H.I.E.L.D. Now, they were soaring through the sky in a Quinjet, a marvel of technological advancement.

On board, they were engaged in a serious discussion with Batman, who was currently stationed on the island of Krakoa. Their conversation was a detailed analysis of the critical situation at hand, planning their next steps as they jetted towards Transylvania.

However, amidst the grave dialogue and tension, Karl and Van Helsing were consumed by a sense of awe. They were flying. Actually, truly flying. Inside a mechanical beast, that roared through the sky, far above the ground, a feat of technology they could hardly comprehend. In their world, such wonders were stuff of fantasy and dreams. But here, in this universe, such dreams were reality. Their eyes flit around the aircraft, soaking in the sophisticated technology that surrounded them.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd actually be flying inside a machine," Karl murmured, his eyes wide with fascination.

"This world truly is full of strange and wonderful tech," Van Helsing agreed, a hint of amazement edging his voice. Despite the looming threat of their old enemy, it was impossible for them to not be astounded by the advancements of this world.

As the Quinjet roared through the skies toward Transylvania, Logan, his voice a gravelly rumble, turned towards Van Helsing. "So, you've tangled with this Dracula before. Does he have any weaknesses we can use? You killed him once already."

Van Helsing took a moment before answering, his gaze thoughtful. "In my world, Dracula was incredibly difficult to kill. Aside from a slight fear of crucifixes, he had virtually no other weaknesses. I was only able to defeat him by using a curse against him, the curse of the werewolf. I became one and bit him."

"But things are different here," Van Helsing continued. "That method may not work against this Dracula. He has lived in this world for a long time, adapting and evolving. He's cunning, powerful, and in control of the creatures of the night."

Ciri, quietly listening to the exchange, finally spoke. "Though the werewolf curse might not be available, we do have allies who could be helpful. Werewolf by Night, also known as Jack Russell, is a werewolf who maintains his intellect in beast form. He possesses superhuman strength and healing abilities, and is resistant to most magic."

"Another potential ally is the Howling Commandos," Ciri added. "A special unit of S.H.I.E.L.D. designed to deal with supernatural threats. They've faced vampires and other similar creatures. Their experience could be invaluable."

As Logan processed the information, his eyes narrowed in thought. Their enemy was formidable, but they had allies with unique strengths and a wealth of experience. This would be a battle unlike any they'd faced before, but with careful planning and the right allies, they stood a fighting chance.

…

Nick Fury, the tactical mastermind he was, began laying out the game plan, his gaze scanning each team member in turn. "Our primary goal is to penetrate Dracula's forces and make our way into the heart of his operation. That's where we'll find Van Helsing's and Karl's friend, the other Frankenstein," he explained, pointing at a holographic map projected from a small device.

He continued, "We're going to need to move swiftly and silently. The element of surprise is crucial. If they know we're coming, they'll double down on their defenses, and we can't afford that."

Then, turning to Kurt Russel, he added, "And Kurt, we need you to take out Dracula. Your bite is the only thing that has a chance of ending him. You'll have the rest of the Howling Commandos backing you up. Frankenstein's Monster and Man-Thing, you two are on point for breaching the perimeter."

Living Mummy and Gorgon were tasked with crowd control, using their respective abilities to confuse and immobilize any resistance they encountered.

"And remember, we're not alone in this," Fury concluded. "We've got backup from S.H.I.E.L.D. and all of us here. We stick together, we move as one, and we get this job done.

With their orders clear, the group steeled themselves for the challenging mission that lay ahead.

Once the orders were issued, everyone prepared in their own way. Logan unsheathed his adamantium claws with a snikt, his features hardening into a grim expression. Regis nodded in understanding, an ethereal shimmer around him hinting at his vampire abilities. Ciri held out her hand, her body giving off a soft electrical buzz as the Pikachu Potion took effect. Her eyes were sharp, her body was limber, and she was ready.

Geralt, with his various potions, was an intimidating sight. His body pulsed with newfound power and strength from the Titan Draught, his skin was hardened to a near impenetrable degree by the Gorgon Grit, and the Viper's Vigor was evident in the steady, determined gleam in his eyes.

Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers, their twin blades humming in the quiet night. Mando checked his blaster and gave his armor a once-over, the gleam of beskar under the moonlight a stark contrast to the darkness around them. Van Helsing loaded his crossbow and leveled it, the weapon an extension of his own resolve, while Karl adjusted his grip on the silver stake and the cross, his other hand resting on the hilt of his new sword.

Then, under Kurt Russel's leadership, the group moved. Shield forces commenced their engagement, drawing out the enemy while the group infiltrated their ranks. They were a storm cutting through the night, swift and silent as they headed straight for the heart of Dracula's fortress. With each step, they drew closer to their goal: rescue the other Frankenstein, take out Dracula, and end this.

…

Like shadows moving through the night, the group moved in perfect synchronicity. Regis and Ciri were at the forefront, their bodies morphing into unseen gusts as they made their way to the top of the fortress walls. The druargee sentries, oblivious to their impending doom, stood no chance against their swift, silent assaults. One by one, they fell, their bodies disintegrating before they could even raise the alarm.

Meanwhile, Van Helsing, with his silver stake firmly in hand, managed to slip behind a guard. In a swift, silent motion, he plunged the stake into the creature's heart. The vampire crumbled in an instant, nothing left but a pile of ash in its wake.

The Frankenstein Monster, with strength that belied his patchwork appearance, quietly ambushed another vampire guard. With an uncanny stealth, he slipped behind the creature, his massive hands closing around its neck. With a swift, merciless twist, he snapped the creature's neck. The vampire fell limp, disintegrating into ashes that disappeared in the night breeze.

The path to the heart of the fortress was clear, and the group moved onwards, their coordinated actions leaving no room for retaliation. They were a step closer to their objective, the fortress's defenses silently falling to their calculated attack.

As the group progressed into the fortress, they moved with a cohesive fluidity that mirrored a deadly dance. Logan, his claws gleaming under the moonlight, sliced through any adversaries who dared to block their path. His movements were swift, precise, each swing of his claws bringing down an enemy.

Ahsoka was a whirlwind of energy, her dual lightsabers carving an incandescent path through the darkness. Each swing and thrust of her weapons were controlled, lethal, leaving a trail of disintegrating vampires in her wake.

Mando, with his Beskar armor glinting ominously, showed a calculated ruthlessness. His blasters fired relentlessly, each bolt finding its mark with unerring accuracy. The quick and efficient dispatching of their foes reflected a lifetime spent in battle.

Just when it seemed like their advance was unstoppable, they came across a figure that made Karl stop in his tracks. "Igor..." he muttered, recognition flickering in his eyes.

The hunched figure of Igor from Van Helsing's and Karl's world was now standing before them. Igor's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he recognized Van Helsing and Karl. "How?! How are you?! It's not possible?!" he stammered, terror evident in his voice.

But before he could attempt to flee, Van Helsing fired a bolt from his crossbow into the wall, blocking his path. At the same moment, Regis materialized behind Igor, effectively trapping him. Their reunion with Igor was surprising, but they were not about to let him escape.

Under the intense scrutiny of the group, Igor squirmed uncomfortably. Karl demanded, "Where is our friend, Igor? Where is Frankenstein?"

Igor remained tight-lipped, a stubborn defiance flashing in his eyes. But his bravado faltered when Regis stepped forward, his form shifting into that of a vampire. The menacing snarl that he directed at Igor was enough to make the hunchbacked man whimper in fear. The werewolf form of Kurt Russell added to the terror, his snarls echoing through the fortress's stone walls. The sight of Frankenstein's Monster from this world, cracking his knuckles, certainly did not help to calm Igor's nerves.

Despite the fear coursing through him, Igor remained stubbornly silent. It was then that Geralt stepped forward. He fixed Igor with a steely gaze and raised his hand, the power of Axii washing over the hunchback. Igor's eyes glazed over as the Sign took effect.

Igor's voice was a hoarse whisper as he revealed, "He's in the dungeons. And there's more... He's... He's been creating more like Frankenstein. He has three of them."

The group shared a glance, the new piece of information causing a ripple of concern to pass through them. It seemed that the situation was far more complex than they had initially thought.

As the group advanced further into the fortress, the Living Mummy wrapped Igor up in his bandages. The hunchback struggled in vain as he was secured inside a closet, his protests muffled by the layers of bandages.

The team made their way towards the dungeons, moving as silently as shadows. They soon spotted their friend, the Frankenstein's monster from Van Helsing's world, who had managed to keep the guard distracted. The guard, a burly vampire, was talking to Frankenstein, completely oblivious to the impending danger.

With the stealth of a predator, Van Helsing moved towards the guard, his eyes focused and determined. He moved in a blur, a swift, calculated strike plunging his silver stake into the vampire. The vampire let out a gasp before crumbling into ashes.

As the dust settled, Van Helsing turned his attention to Frankenstein. With Karl and Geralt's help, they unstrapped the chains that held their friend. Van Helsing placed a reassuring hand on Frankenstein's shoulder, "You're not alone, old friend. We're here."

A glimmer of relief shone in Frankenstein's eyes as he took in the sight of his rescuers. They were not out of danger yet, but they had one less obstacle to worry about.

As introductions began, Frankenstein was introduced to his counterpart from this world, a hulking, yet oddly familiar figure. This world's Frankenstein, or Frank, as the Howling Commandos affectionately called him, was a patchwork of parts like him, but held himself with a distinct confidence and an aura of acceptance.

Frank extended a massive hand in greeting, "It's not often I meet another like myself. It's good to see you, brother."

Frankenstein, taken aback by the familiar figure before him, and the use of the word 'brother', returned the gesture, clasping his counterpart's hand in his own, "It is... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

The moment between the two was a strangely heartwarming sight amidst the gloom of the castle, a testament to the unlikely camaraderie that could form between beings of their kind. They had each found a brother in the other, an equal who understood their unique existence in a world of ordinary men. The warmth and understanding in their eyes told a story of kinship that transcended the boundaries of their respective worlds.

Frankenstein spoke, solemnly meeting the eyes of each of his new allies. "The others... they are like me, made by the hand of man. Dracula has used fear and manipulation to bend them to his will. They believe they have no choice, no agency. But they do. We must try to reach them, to show them there is another way. Their existence does not have to be servitude to a monster."

Van Helsing nodded in agreement. "We were planning on stopping Dracula anyway. Freeing these beings, it's the right thing to do."

Regis added, "And it could be advantageous for us as well. If they join our side, it could tip the scales in our favor."

Thus, with renewed purpose and an expanded mission, the group began to make their way further into the castle, their resolve as firm as ever. They were not just there to put an end to Dracula's reign, they were there to liberate those who had been subjugated by fear. The confrontation that awaited them would be difficult, but they knew they couldn't turn back now. There were lives to be saved, and a wrong to be righted. They were ready.

The sturdy door stood as an ominous barrier, thick with shadows and streaked with veins of cold, hard metal. It was clear that it was intended to keep whatever was inside from escaping. After a brief moment of contemplation, Ciri moved to the front of the group, her eyes glinting with determination.

Drawing on the energy that thrummed within her, she gracefully waved her hands, manipulating the very fabric of reality. An ethereal gateway shimmered into existence, and one by one, they stepped through it, crossing the obstacle as if it was no more than a light breeze.

The sight that welcomed them on the other side was chillingly familiar. There he was - Dracula, the same malevolent figure that Van Helsing and Karl had once vanquished in their own world. His dark, slicked-back hair framed his pale, angular face, his features mirroring the icy surprise of coming face-to-face with Ciri.

"You wield potent magic, child," Dracula intoned, his voice echoing through the room like the cold wind of a graveyard at midnight. He rose from his seat, his piercing eyes never leaving Ciri's. "Teleportation... A rare talent indeed."

Ciri stared back unflinchingly, the remnants of her magic still glimmering around her. But behind the surprise in Dracula's tone, something else lurked. It was an analytical, predatory gaze, assessing her, considering her potential. As though he saw not just a young sorceress capable of teleportation, but something much more.

The room fell into tense silence as everyone prepared for the inevitable conflict, their eyes fixed on the formidable vampire lord. The decisive moment had arrived.

Dracula's gaze slowly shifted, trailing from Ciri to Regis, from Geralt to Van Helsing and Karl. Each look he gave held a sinister calculation, a cold analysis of each individual. His dark, predatory eyes scrutinized them, revealing the breadth of their powers and origins, even as he quietly measured their potential.

"Quite the motley crew," he murmured, spreading his arms wide in a sweeping gesture that took in everyone in the room. "Such fascinating individuals that the Conjunction has brought to our doorstep..."

His gaze came to rest on Karl and Van Helsing, a cruel, knowing smile curling his lips. "Ah, Gabriel... You've walked amongst men and beasts, unaware of who you truly are. You've been so ignorant of your purpose, your destiny."

Dracula's voice grew chillingly soft, filling the tense silence that gripped the room. "You see, you are what they would call... the left hand of God. In layman's terms, your name, Gabriel, speaks volumes of your identity."

He stepped closer to Van Helsing, his figure imposing as he lifted his hand towards the man. "You walked amongst humans since the time of Zachariah, the virgin Mary, prophesying the birth of John the Baptist. You, Gabriel, are an archangel, a divine messenger."

His words hung heavy in the air, a revelation that turned the tide of understanding, and a challenge that dared them to deny the truth of their existence. The room filled with a quiet, suspenseful anticipation, as all eyes turned to Van Helsing, awaiting his response.

For a moment, Van Helsing was silent, staring back at Dracula in stunned disbelief. The air around him seemed to constrict, the room spinning slightly as the implication of Dracula's words began to sink in.

"Archangel?" He muttered, the word coming out as a confused whisper. "Gabriel? This...this is ridiculous. You're lying."

His hand instinctively reached for the cross around his neck, fingers clutching the cold metal as if seeking some kind of solace or affirmation from it.

"I... I'm just a man, not some... divine messenger. I've been fighting creatures like you for a lifetime. It's... It's impossible." His words were more for himself than anyone else in the room, the shock evident in his voice as he struggled to process the information.

His eyes shot towards Karl, searching for any sign of agreement or contradiction, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. This was not something he was prepared to handle, and it showed in his widened eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, each one more disorienting than the last.

"I'm not... I can't be..." His voice trailed off, the room seemingly closing in on him as he grappled with the reality of what Dracula had just revealed.

Dracula's grin widened at Van Helsing's disbelief. "You don't believe me, do you, Gabriel?" He gestured to Logan. "Go on then, ask your Core. Ask your God."

Logan, sensing the gravity of the situation, closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, reaching out mentally towards the Core, seeking answers. "Is it true? Is Van Helsing really... Gabriel?" His voice was firm, showing none of the doubt that echoed in Van Helsing's.

After a moment, a voice echoed in Logan's mind, the voice of the Core, filled with immense power and authority. "Yes, it is true. Gabriel, the messenger, walks amongst you in the form of the one you know as Van Helsing."

The declaration caused Dracula to shrink back, a flicker of fear in his eyes for the first time. The room seemed to vibrate with divine energy, an invisible force seeming to emanate from Van Helsing.

Then, the voice of the Core boomed once more, this time addressed at Dracula. "Dracula, your time here is short. Your fate lies in the pit from whence you were born. Repent, or face the eternal darkness."

The sound was like thunder, causing the room to tremble. Dracula hissed, a hand instinctively moving to shield his face as he recoiled from the divine proclamation.

Only for a defiant silence to greet the core back.

A potent silence followed the Core's initial statement, thick with the weight of divine authority. Then, the voice echoed once more in the room, this time with a tone of stark candor.

"Dracula, you are but a slave to your own desires," the Core said, addressing the vampire lord directly. "Your would-be kingdom has crumbled under the weight of your own arrogance, leaving nothing but a hollow void filled with darkness."

Dracula's eyes flashed with indignation, but the relentless voice of the Core continued, unyielding and resonant. "My messenger, Gabriel, is here not to revel in your power, but to expose your powerlessness. In spite of all your self-proclaimed might, you are but a lost soul, drowning in his own darkness."

Dracula visibly recoiled, his sneer dissolving into a look of disgruntlement. His gaze flickered from Van Helsing to the others in the room, uncertainty dancing in his eyes for the first time.

"And it is to this darkness you will return," the Core said, a note of finality in its voice. "I tell you the truth, Dracula. Before the sun breaks the horizon, Gabriel's hand will cast you into the pit from whence you came."

The declaration hung heavily in the air, a dire prediction that seemed to throb with the pulse of the room. The certainty of it felt palpable, casting a grim shadow on the face of the vampire lord.

When the Core's presence faded, a stunned silence hung in the air. The finality of the declaration left a lingering echo that permeated the room.

Van Helsing, or Gabriel as he had been revealed, stood dumbstruck. His eyes, wide and unblinking, stared off into space, his mind reeling with the revelation. His hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon, a life preserver in the storm of his thoughts.

Karl turned to look at his friend, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face. He had seen many strange things, but the proclamation of Van Helsing's divine nature was far beyond what he could have anticipated.

Logan, Geralt, Regis, and Ciri exchanged glances, their faces hardened and grim. They were no strangers to divine intervention, but witnessing such a moment held an intensity that was difficult to shake off.

The Howling Commandos looked at each other, their usual bravado replaced with quiet respect. Their gazes turned to Van Helsing, newfound reverence reflecting in their eyes.

Ahsoka and Mando remained stoic, their faces unreadable behind their visors. But the tension in their stances betrayed their concern and the weight of the prophecy.

The room was heavy with uncertainty and anticipation, each individual processing the Core's prediction and the implications it held. The threat was clear, and they all knew that the climax was near at hand.

At the sound of Dracula's deafening roar, the massive doors at the end of the room swung open with an ominous creak. One by one, three monstrous figures lumbered into the room, their eyes glinting with uncertainty in the dim light.

First was Eva, a female creation of monstrous proportions. She was a patchwork of diverse skin tones and textures, a living mosaic of mismatched pieces assembled into a form vaguely resembling a woman. Her body was a tapestry of scars, each one a grim testament to her unnatural origin. Her hair was an ink-black curtain cascading down her back, framing her face in a stark contrast to the contrasting hues of her skin.

Then came Boris, a colossal hulk of a man. His stature was awe-inspiring, a testament to the grotesque might of the experiments that gave him life. Each muscle rippled under his rough, scarred skin, promising a display of raw power that was almost daunting to behold.

Lastly, there was Adam, a sight to behold. Four burly arms protruded from his broad torso, each one as capable as the other. His body was adorned with buzzing Tesla coils, the hum of their energy a constant, eerie soundtrack to his existence.

Frankenstein, Van Helsing's friend, stepped forward as they entered, meeting their wary gazes with a look of firm determination. "Eva, Boris, Adam," he addressed each one individually, his voice echoing through the cavernous room. His tone held an edge of authority, an undercurrent of an undeniable truth. "You have been given a chance at life. You have the freedom to choose. You are not mindless creatures or tools to be used. You are more than what he made you."

Dracula's face contorted in a snarl, his fangs glinting in the sparse light. "Why should they trust you?" He shot back, his words spitting venom. "You're just like them, born from the same gruesome experiment."

A heavy silence fell over the room, the air thick with tension. Eva, Boris, and Adam exchanged glances, uncertainty etched into their faces. They were caught between their creator and the possibility of freedom. Was obedience their only destiny, or could they truly exercise their free will?

The silence was finally broken by Eva, her voice soft yet resolute. "We may share a common origin, but we don't have to share a common master." Her words hung in the air, a quiet defiance against Dracula's authority.

Adam and Boris looked at each other, a wordless communication passing between them. After a moment of silent deliberation, they nodded. It was clear; they had made their choice.

The tension in the room grew palpable, an invisible force that weighed heavily on all present. Dracula's fury erupted in a visceral roar, echoing off the cold stone walls of the fortress. The confrontation was inevitable now; their defiance had ensured it.

…

The chamber exploded into pandemonium as Eva, Boris, and Adam chose to challenge their creator. Dracula, his royal countenance twisting into a snarl, swept forward with a speed that defied comprehension. Yet, his fury, despite its ferocity, was not a direct conduit to victory.

Eva, the sole female amongst her brothers, met Dracula's assault with brute force. Her blows connected with an earthshaking impact that rivaled a wrecking ball's crash. Dracula retaliated with his own ferocious claws, yet she danced around his strikes, her eyes filled with a defiance that burned brighter with each passing second.

Parallelly, Boris used his colossal size to his advantage, slamming into Dracula with the force of a charging bull. Each impact from the enormous creature was like a heavyweight boxer's punishing hook. Still, Dracula appeared to withstand each blow, his supernatural fortitude seemingly endless.

Adam, possessing an extra set of arms and a body adorned with crackling Tesla coils, showcased an impressive blend of agility and raw power. His strikes were swift and unerring, his electrified body sizzling on contact with Dracula, driving the vampire lord back.

In the midst of this melee, Geralt and Regis fought back-to-back, their blades whirling in a lethal dance that carved through any who dared approach them. The symphony of clashing metal and the electric buzz of magical energy filled the chamber, punctuated by battle cries and harsh grunts of effort.

Ciri, enhanced with Pikachu's nimbleness and electricity-wielding abilities, moved through the battleground like a streak of lightning. Her body, crackling with raw energy, was a weapon of destruction that left countless foes incapacitated in her wake.

Meanwhile, Logan, Ahsoka, and Mando worked in a seamless trio, their combined might cleaving through the enemy ranks. Logan's adamantium claws, Ahsoka's humming lightsabers, and Mando's precision blaster fire formed a deadly vanguard that no vampire minion could withstand.

Van Helsing and Karl, armed with the staggering revelation of Gabriel's angelic origin, engaged their adversaries with rekindled zeal. Their relentless onslaught, driven by both their personal vendetta and the divine mandate they now realized they served, gave Dracula's forces no quarter.

The climax of this relentless conflict arrived when Kurt Russell, in his guise as the Werewolf by Night, finally confronted Dracula. His lupine nature was starkly distinct from Van Helsing's uncontrollable transformation, a fact Dracula was quick to exploit. After a fierce and grueling battle, Kurt managed to sink his fangs into Dracula's flesh.

Dracula let out a hiss, then laughed cruelly. "Your bite," he scoffed, drawing back from the werewolf, "It lacks the madness, the raw, untamed fury needed to end me, beast!"

The moment Kurt's fangs sunk into Dracula's flesh, a malevolent transformation began to overtake the vampire lord. His human-like features twisted and contorted, his body bulking up as his skin darkened and hardened into a monstrous, bat-like form. His snarl echoed through the chamber, resounding with a dark, primal fury that made even the bravest warriors pause.

Yet, the monstrous Man-Thing did not falter. Undeterred by Dracula's grotesque transformation, he lunged forward, his swampy body squelching as he bore down on the vampire lord. His vegetative tendrils writhed and reached out, attempting to encase Dracula within their entangling grasp.

Simultaneously, the Frankenstein who knew Van Helsing joined the attack. With a booming roar, he charged, his stitched-together frame an emblem of resilience and strength that refused to bow down before the oppressive might of Dracula. The room reverberated with the thunderous impact of his blows, each one landing with a crushing force that shook the very foundations of the fortress.

Alongside him, the Living Mummy summoned his ancient power. Sands whirled and swirled around him, forming a shield and weapon at the same time. His bandaged form, a symbol of an age-long curse, moved with an agility that belied his decaying exterior, matching Dracula's monstrous ferocity with his own brand of relentless determination.

Meanwhile, from a secluded spot in the room, the figure of Gorgon, a young woman of deadly beauty, commanded attention. Her gaze, sharp and calculating, swept over the throngs of vampire minions, turning them into still, stone figures with each focused glance. The mere threat of her petrifying stare was enough to keep the vast ranks of Dracula's minions at bay, generating a protective circle for the beleaguered heroes.

Despite the overwhelming odds, these unique heroes held their ground. Their determination was steadfast, their spirit unbreakable. The chamber reverberated with their ferocious defiance, the clashes of their mighty strength, and the crackle of magic. The battlefield was a vibrant tableau of their combined power, a testament to their collective will to resist, their unanimous resolve to challenge the oppressive lord who sought to subdue them.

Their confrontation was a long way from its end. They battled with every fiber of their beings, their individual strengths harmonizing into a symphony of resistance. The magnitude of their collective power was immense, a phenomenon previously unseen within the confines of this fortress. Dracula's mockery did little to dampen their resolve. This was their fight, their pivotal moment. They were committed to seeing it through to the bitter end, regardless of the length of time it would take.

As Dracula continued his reign of terror in his monstrous form, Van Helsing retaliated with relentless force. Bolt after bolt was launched from his trusty crossbow, each one aimed unerringly at the heart of the vampire lord. Yet, Dracula refused to fall, his strength seemingly unaffected by the barrage.

Suddenly, with a sweep of his powerful arms, Dracula seized Van Helsing, pinning him against the cold stone wall. Despite the pressure of the vampire's grip, Van Helsing managed to plunge a silver stake deep into Dracula's heart. But to Van Helsing's surprise, the monster merely smiled, appearing unscathed.

"I wonder, Gabriel..." he hissed, his eyes glinting with a deadly curiosity. "What would happen if I drink your blood?"

With a quick, brutal movement, Dracula sank his razor-sharp fangs into Van Helsing's exposed neck. The vampire lord closed his eyes, savoring the fresh torrent of warm blood. Van Helsing grimaced in pain, his body struggling against the brutal grip.

"Ah," Dracula sighed contentedly, "your blood tastes so sweet... so tender... so..." Suddenly, his voice trailed off, his eyes widening.

The taste of the blood changed, transforming from sweet to bitter in an instant. A burning sensation spread from his fangs, coursing through his veins like wildfire. "BURNING!" Dracula roared, releasing Van Helsing and staggering back, his eyes filled with shock and fury.

As the last of Dracula's minions fell and Van Helsing touched his now healed neck, Dracula's mighty form writhed and squirmed on the ground, a grotesque sight that momentarily hushed the chamber. Dracula's body, once so formidable and invincible, began disintegrating, as though a potent force was tearing him apart from the inside.

Although his supernatural healing abilities attempted to regenerate the disintegrating tissues, it was to no avail. The decay was happening at a much faster pace than his body could handle.

"WHAT IS THIS!?" Dracula roared, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, filled with confusion and disbelief. His crimson eyes darted around the room, seeking an explanation, finding none. His once powerful figure was reduced to a writhing, crumbling husk, the victim of an unseen, unknown force. The mighty lord of the vampires was falling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As Dracula's screams of agony echoed through the chamber, the Core's voice resounded from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a deep, resonating sound that filled the vast space, reverberating off the cold stone walls.

"The light... the holy essence of the heavens runs through Gabriel's veins... and it brings with it... your final judgment," it declared, its voice echoing like a divine edict.

Dracula's form was wracked by spasms as his body began to break apart even more violently. As his screams intensified, the ground around him started to crack open, deep fissures splitting the stone floor. From the darkness of these chasms, demonic arms stretched out, reaching for the crumbling figure of the vampire lord.

With a final defiant roar, Dracula tried to resist, his hand clutching at the air as if seeking some salvation. But the arms were relentless, pulling him down into the pit with an inexorable force.

As the screams of the once mighty Dracula faded into the pit, the Core's voice filled the chamber once again, its tone solemn and final.

"You reap what you sow," it intoned, "And you have sown death."

With these words, the floor sealed shut, leaving nothing but silence in the aftermath. The reign of Dracula had come to an end. And in his downfall, the prophecy had been fulfilled. Gabriel, the left hand of God, had delivered the final judgment.

As the dust settled and the echoes of the Core's final words died away, the chamber was filled with an eerie silence. The companions stood in stunned silence, processing the shocking climax of their confrontation.

Logan was the first to break the silence. "And I thought our hell was bad," he muttered, wiping sweat off his brow. The words seemed to hang in the air, reflecting the surreal experience they had just lived through. Even for a hardened warrior like him, this had been beyond anything he had ever encountered.

The other companions were equally taken aback. Geralt, a man who had faced countless horrors in his life, looked equally grim, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and bewilderment. Ciri was quiet, her face pale as she processed the sight of Dracula's end.

Regis, too, was lost in thought. As a higher vampire, he had always known about the brutal nature of dark beings like Dracula's, but witnessing such divine judgement was a first for him.

Karl and Van Helsing shared a glance, a mixture of relief, shock, and exhaustion visible on their faces. The reality of Van Helsing's true nature and Dracula's horrific end seemed to weigh heavily on them.

Ahsoka and Mando stood side by side, their expressions unreadable on Ahsoka's face and behind Mando's helmet. Yet, their stillness spoke volumes. The Gorgon, her power ebbing, took a step back, her gaze unfocused as if lost in thought.

Meanwhile, the Frankenstein's Monsters stared at the spot where their creator had met his end, their expressions reflecting a complex mix of relief, fear, and perhaps even a strange sort of closure.

In the midst of all this, Man-Thing simply stood still, its form quietly humming with the residual energy of the battle, the ever-watchful guardian even in the face of such shocking events.

In this moment, they were not just warriors or monsters. They were witnesses to a prophecy fulfilled, the end of a reign of terror, and the beginning of a new chapter. It was a moment they knew they would never forget.

As the echoes of the great battle dwindled, the doors to the chamber burst open. In strode the Dracula of this universe, followed by Nick Fury and a contingent of his forces. Their appearance was a jolt to the tense silence that had settled in the aftermath of their confrontation. The relief was palpable, a reflection of their combined success - Dracula's forces had surrendered, and his subjects had fled.

"What happened to the Dracula in here?" Dracula asked, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. His gaze scanned the room, taking in the sight of the fallen minions, the battered, but victorious group of warriors, and the residual signs of their ferocious battle. His eyes lingered on the spot where his alternate self had met his end, an inscrutable expression on his face.

His question hung in the air, a testament to the severity of what had just transpired. The finality of Dracula's end was a shock to them all, even to his counterpart from this universe. Despite their readiness for battle, none of them had been truly prepared for the magnitude of what they had just witnessed. The weight of it all seemed to hang heavy in the air, a reminder of the great battle they had won and the divine judgement they had witnessed.

With a deep, shaky breath, Van Helsing stepped forward, his gaze meeting Dracula's. "Your... counterpart," he began, his voice carrying the strain of the monumental battle, "He... he made a grave error." His eyes flickered momentarily to the spot where the other Dracula had been dragged into the pit, an abyss of divine judgement.

"He tried to drink my blood," Van Helsing continued, lifting a hand to touch the healed punctures on his neck. His fingers traced the spot gingerly, as if he too was still grappling with the reality of what transpired. "My blood... it was his undoing. The divine essence running through my veins... it judged him, condemned him."

He paused for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he looked back up, there was a determination in his eyes, a fire kindled by the memory of their hard-fought victory. "As foretold by the core," he declared, a note of finality ringing in his voice, "Dracula was defeated by my hand. His reign of terror... it's over."

As he finished, a silence settled over them, the weight of his words sinking in.

Dracula paused, his crimson eyes studying Van Helsing for a moment before he broke the silence. A subtle shift in his demeanor occurred as he nodded slowly. "I see," he muttered, his voice tinged with a surprising cocktail of fear and respect.

He then raised his hand, a regal and dismissive gesture all at once. "You are free to go. All of you," he announced, his gaze sweeping over each of them - the weary warriors, the monstrous heroes, the unconventional allies. He offered no gratitude, but then, they hadn't expected any.

Dracula then retreated, his figure receding back towards his throne. He moved with a contemplative slowness, his every step echoing eerily in the quiet chamber. As he settled into his throne, the room's attention shifted away from him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The silence that followed his departure was punctuated by a collective sigh of relief. They had fought, they had triumphed, and now, they had been given leave to go. As they began to gather themselves, a newfound sense of freedom and accomplishment filled the air. They had faced unimaginable horrors and had emerged victorious. It was time to return home.

As Van Helsing moved to exit the chamber, he heard a voice behind him. Turning around, he saw Dracula, still seated on his throne, his gaze fixed upon him.

"And Van Helsing..." Dracula began, his voice low yet clearly audible in the heavy silence of the chamber. His words hung in the air for a moment, a rarity for a being such as him. "Thank you... for protecting my kingdom from... another me."

There was a pause. Van Helsing stood still, meeting Dracula's gaze with an impassive expression. In his eyes, there was no recognition of the gratitude, just an understanding of the need for their actions. But he gave a simple nod in response before turning away, ready to leave this chapter behind.

With those words, they departed the castle, leaving behind the uneasy truce and the fallen Dracula, their story marking another unlikely chapter in the annals of this realm's history. They returned home, carrying with them the scars of the battle, the memories of victory, and the knowledge of a truth that seemed stranger than any fiction.

…

The ladies of the Multiverse Council, Yennefer, Triss, Kira, and Meg, were tasked with the job of interviewing the latest arrivals. Meg, clipboard in hand, worked on checking off the names as they entered, a streak of excitement in her eyes at the assortment of individuals they were about to meet.

First to enter the room was Van Helsing. Yennefer, ever the insightful sorceress, questioned him about his experiences, his mission, and the unbelievable revelation about his angelic origins. Van Helsing, a man of few words, responded succinctly, choosing to keep most of his thoughts to himself. Yet, he acknowledged the truth of his divine heritage and his continued commitment to combat the forces of darkness.

Karl was next. Triss, with her natural empathy, gently probed Karl about his journey. He spoke candidly about his loyalty to Van Helsing, their shared battles against darkness, and his hope for a peaceful future. His words were straightforward and honest, revealing a depth of character that was admirable.

Their friend, the Frankenstein of their world, was interviewed by Kira. His existence as a creation of science, his struggles against his creator, and his aspiration for acceptance among humanity intrigued Kira. His unique perspective added a different shade of complexity to their understanding of the multiverse.

Adam, the Frankenstein monster with four arms and Tesla coils, fascinated the group. His unique abilities, the power harnessed in his body, and his intellectual capabilities held their attention. His words, although halting and guarded, conveyed a profound longing for a place where he could be free from the fear of rejection.

Eve, the only female Frankenstein monster, held a quiet strength in her. Her narrative unfolded in front of Yennefer, reflecting a tale of courage and resilience in the face of adversity. Despite her monstrous form, she radiated a certain elegance that was impossible to ignore.

Lastly, Boris, the gentle giant who had a profound affinity for nature, impressed them with his heartwarming narrative. His tale was one of a monster who sought solace among creatures, finding acceptance and peace in their silent companionship. His humble manner and kind demeanor touched their hearts, a poignant reminder that even in a beastly guise, one could find an unexpected gentleness.

As they each finished their interviews, Meg diligently checked off their names from her list. Their stories, as varied as their forms, provided a deeper insight into the tapestry of the multiverse and the remarkable individuals they would be working with.