Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2
Chapter 33: The Sins of Cassandra Nova, Part 2
…
Guardians of the Galaxy receiving a distress signal as several quadrants in deep space go dark, sections known to have high activity from the Knull forces. Rocket Raccoon, piloting the Milano, pulls up holographic displays, revealing the dreaded trio that's been causing the devastation: Warbringer-Knull, Pyroclasm-Knull, and Necrodrake-Knull.
As Rocket brings up the images, his usual sarcasm is nowhere to be found. "Alright, team, these three bastards aren't just messing around, they're turning an entire tropical planet into a volcanic hellscape. Let's break it down."
He points to the first hologram. Warbringer-Knull is towering, clad in battle-worn black and red symbiote armor. His massive gauntlets are practically pulsating with destructive energy, and his helmet is etched with runes of war. "This one? Warbringer-Knull. Real piece of work. He's the muscle. Think of him as the Knull army's war machine. Wherever he goes, it's nothing but destruction."
The next image displays Pyroclasm-Knull. His molten veins of magma seem to glow beneath a cracked, black symbiotic exterior. Flames leak from his body, creating a constant heatwave around him. "Pyroclasm-Knull," Rocket continues. "His power's heat-based. Real hot-tempered, no pun intended. Anything his symbiote touches melts down into slag. That's why this planet's on fire."
Rocket flips to the last hologram, Necrodrake-Knull. A massive dragon-symbiote hybrid, covered in jagged black and green scales, with leathery wings as dark as the abyss. Green, necrotic energy flickers in his maw. "Necrodrake-Knull. He's the flyer. Picture a goddamn dragon, but worse. This one can tear apart ecosystems in seconds. If it weren't for the Kree, Skrull, and Asgardian forces getting people out in time, this planet would've been a graveyard."
The Guardians exchange tense looks as Rocket gives a final briefing. "These three are geo-engineering the planet to heat up so bad even symbiote-enhanced tech struggles to get close. They're doing it to keep Peter-Knull's forces at bay. We've got to play this one smart. Thor, Mecha-Thor, Groot-Thor, you guys handle setting up a perimeter. Hercules, you're with them. Titan and Captain Marvel, you're on the other side of the planet with your forces, ready to intervene if it goes sideways."
Rocket presses a button on his wrist, showing an image of the symbiotic gear provided by Peter-Knull. The boots, cloaks, and masks all shimmer with organic designs, tendrils and biomorphic shapes crafted to keep the team safe in hostile conditions like this one. "And don't forget your symbiotic suits. Peter-Knull's given us enough gear to survive out there, but we don't want anyone floating in space without protection. These suits are your lifeline—wear them or die in the vacuum."
The Guardians nod as they prepare to move out.
Peter-Knull stood at the edge of the airlock, the cold of space juxtaposed against the intense heat radiating from the planet below. His symbiotic armor shifted around him, conforming to the harshness of space, but already anticipating the extreme heat that lay ahead. The other ships in his fleet hung motionless in the vacuum, prepared to assist if needed, but for now, this was his task alone.
With a slight flex of his legs, Peter-Knull launched himself into the void. The sudden velocity streaked his form through the blackness like a comet, aimed directly at the boiling surface of the planet below. He didn't need boosters, didn't need tech. The raw power of his symbiotic form carried him with ease, breaking through the atmosphere in seconds. As he plummeted toward the hellish landscape, the friction would have burned any ordinary being alive. Peter-Knull barely noticed.
Impact.
The ground buckled beneath him as he landed, sending a shockwave rippling through the already unstable surface. Lava geysers, glowing red, spewed upward in violent bursts, briefly lighting the ash-choked sky with fiery plumes. The planet groaned in agony, an unnatural hellscape molded by the destructive forces of three Knulls, and Peter-Knull found himself at its very heart.
Peter-Knull rose from his crouch, the molten rock hissing as it clung to his symbiotic armor. Where he had landed was now a crater, filled with molten slag, but he moved as though it were nothing more than puddles of water. His symbiotic form had long since evolved past concerns like heat or pressure; the lava couldn't burn him, and the toxic air was filtered effortlessly by his symbiotic matter. He waded through rivers of fire like a phantom of destruction, unaffected by the very environment designed to cripple lesser beings.
He took a moment to glance around, surveying the landscape with a cold, calculating gaze. What was once a lush, tropical paradise had been transformed into a realm of suffering. Molten lava flowed through the cracked earth like blood from a wound, creating rivers of flame that snaked through the now-barren landscape. Volcanic ash choked the air, turning the sky a perpetual red-black twilight, punctuated only by the fiery rings of volcanoes erupting in the distance. The few mountains that still stood tall were ringed with fire, spewing molten rock into the sky like the dying breaths of a world gasping for air. The ground trembled underfoot, a result of the sheer tectonic chaos unleashed by the Knulls' presence.
In the distance, he could see the epicenter of the devastation, the location where the three Knulls had begun their work. Warbringer-Knull, Pyroclasm-Knull, and Necrodrake-Knull were like dark gods reshaping the world to their twisted desires. Massive volcanic eruptions were no accident; they were crafting an inferno meant to be a deterrent, a planetary defense that would turn even Peter-Knull's forces into ash if they got too close. But for him, this was merely an obstacle to be crossed.
Peter-Knull trudged forward, his steps leaving molten footprints that bubbled and cooled behind him. The roar of erupting volcanoes filled the air, the ground trembling with each explosion. Occasionally, a crack in the earth would split open, releasing more lava in a torrent, but Peter-Knull paid it no mind. The symbiotic armor he wore shifted subtly to accommodate the intense heat, adapting to every environmental challenge thrown at him. He didn't flinch, didn't waver, even as lava surged over his legs like tidal waves.
Every breath was filled with sulfur and ash, but Peter-Knull moved through it as if it were nothing. Around him, the landscape seemed almost alive in its suffering, an endless expanse of jagged, charred rock and flowing rivers of molten stone. In the distance, the remains of a once-vibrant forest were reduced to cinders, the trees twisted and blackened by the encroaching flames. He could hear the distant cries of the planet itself, as if the very earth was groaning under the weight of the devastation wrought by the Knulls.
Still, Peter-Knull walked forward, his destination clear: the three Knulls who had decided to test their might against him.
Warbringer-Knull. Pyroclasm-Knull. Necrodrake-Knull.
Each of them a terror in their own right. Together, they had transformed this once-beautiful planet into an unholy nightmare. They were geo-engineering the environment, pushing the heat to such extremes that Peter-Knull's forces couldn't land without suffering catastrophic losses. But Peter-Knull had no such limitations.
As he moved, he could sense their presence—the three of them gathered at the planet's core, wreaking havoc and siphoning power from the very molten heart of the world. They hadn't come to fight him directly; no, they were smart enough to avoid that, at least for now. They were turning the planet itself into a weapon, hoping to force him into a confrontation on their terms.
His eyes narrowed. He could already sense the heat rising, the ground growing unstable beneath him. A plan was in motion, one designed to weaken him and his forces, but Peter-Knull would not be stopped. Not by heat. Not by fire. Not by molten death.
A symbiotic tendril extended from his arm, wrapping itself around a nearby boulder, and he hurled it forward into the path of a lava flow, diverting the molten river to his left. His movements were precise, deliberate. Every step took him closer to the heart of the chaos, where the real battle would begin.
And yet, even as he approached, Peter-Knull felt a strange calm. He had done this before, faced down other Knulls, beings of his own origin. He had assimilated them, destroyed them, absorbed their power. This would be no different. They could turn this planet into a furnace, but it wouldn't matter. He would find them. He would break them.
The air shimmered with heat as Peter-Knull continued his trek across the molten landscape, the ground beneath him cracking and rumbling, as if the very earth feared his approach. And perhaps it should.
For where Peter-Knull walked, gods had fallen. And soon, these three would join them.
…
Elsewhere on earth…
Back on Earth, the sun was setting over the city, as Logan made his rounds. He had been running himself ragged lately, helping the refugees from Peter Blue-A1's world, organizing defenses, and ensuring mutants in the new SHIELD-supervised apartment complex had what they needed. The situation had been tense, especially with Peter-Knull off-world, dealing with the three rogue Knulls in deep space.
But just as things seemed to be settling, Logan's communicator buzzed to life, the urgent tone unmistakable. He grabbed it, expecting some typical SHIELD briefing or a supply update. What he got instead sent a chill down his spine.
"Logan, we've got a situation," came the voice of a SHIELD agent on the other end, his tone sharp, filled with alarm. "It's Toad... He just walked into the apartment complex."
Logan stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing. Toad had always been... a problem. A misfit, often manipulated, and always prone to bad decisions, but something about the agent's voice suggested this was different.
"And?" Logan growled, already moving toward the nearest exit, his instincts kicking into overdrive.
"He's wearing a vest. A bomb vest," the agent continued, his voice growing more urgent. "C4. He's got his thumbs hovering over the buttons, just... standing there."
Logan's blood ran cold as he sprinted out of the SHIELD outpost and toward the mutant apartment complex. He could already imagine the chaos, families, kids, refugees, and now, Toad, in some twisted state, standing in the middle of it all with a bomb strapped to his chest.
"Why the hell hasn't anyone taken him down?" Logan barked into the comm.
"We tried to get close, but... there's more," the agent stammered, clearly shaken. "During the chaos, one of our guys took a shot. The bullet grazed Toad's side."
Logan's heart pounded as he rounded a corner, the apartment building now in sight, its exterior lit up by emergency vehicles and the muted flashing of lights. "And?"
"He didn't even flinch, Logan," the agent said. "Like... he couldn't feel it. It's like he's... numb. And there's something wrong with his eye, too. His right eye is veering off to the side, like it's not working right. And... there's a scar. On his forehead."
Logan slowed his pace, dread building in his gut. A scar on Toad's forehead? A bomb vest? No reaction to a gunshot?
The agent's voice lowered, almost like he didn't want to say it. "We think... we think Cassandra Nova lobotomized him."
Logan froze. Cassandra Nova. The mere mention of her name ignited a fury within him. The bald, twisted counterpart to Charles Xavier had caused nothing but pain and suffering in the mutant community, always manipulating from the shadows. And now, if she had done something to Toad, used him as a pawn in whatever sick game she was playing...
Logan's claws itched to unsheathe. He clenched his fists, trying to focus. If Cassandra Nova had gotten to Toad, if she had altered his mind...
"Where is he?" Logan snarled into the comm, his voice barely controlled.
"He's in the lobby," the agent replied. "We've evacuated most of the complex, but there are still some mutants inside, families... We haven't been able to fully clear the building. Toad's just standing there, Logan. Like he's waiting for something."
Logan could see the building now, swarming with SHIELD agents, their weapons drawn but held low, uncertainty etched on their faces. The front entrance was blocked off, but through the windows, Logan could make out Toad's familiar hunched figure. He was standing eerily still, the vest of C4 strapped across his chest like a grotesque parody of body armor. His right eye, as the agent had described, was veering off unnaturally, and the scar across his forehead was unmistakable.
Toad's thumbs hovered above the detonation triggers, his face a blank, emotionless mask.
Logan clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. He knew that Toad wasn't acting of his own volition—not like this. The fact that he hadn't even reacted to a bullet grazing him, coupled with the scar, made it clear. Cassandra Nova had twisted his mind, likely turned him into some kind of living bomb. The bastard didn't even know what he was doing.
"Logan," the agent's voice crackled in his ear again, breaking him out of his thoughts. "What do we do?"
Logan took a deep breath, trying to force the rage back down. Charging in claws-first wasn't going to solve this. Toad was a victim in this, manipulated like so many others by Cassandra's cruel games.
"I'll handle it," Logan growled, stepping past the barricades and into the building.
The SHIELD agents gave him space, parting as he approached the doors. As soon as he stepped inside, the heat hit him. The tension in the room was overwhelming, thick with fear. Toad stood in the center of the lobby, staring straight ahead, unmoving.
Logan approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the bomb vest, the flashing red lights on the C4 blocks telling him it was active, just waiting for a signal.
"Toad," Logan called out, his voice low but commanding. "It's me. It's Logan."
Toad's head twitched slightly, his left eye focusing on Logan, while the right continued to drift off, vacant and dead. His lips parted, but no words came out at first.
"Logan," Toad finally muttered, his voice distant, as if speaking from somewhere deep within a fog. "She... she told me to wait."
Logan's muscles tensed. "Who told you?"
"Her... Cassandra. She said... wait here... make sure no one leaves..." Toad's voice cracked, his expression twitching for a moment, as if fighting against something. "She said... it wouldn't hurt."
Logan cursed under his breath. Cassandra had turned Toad into a living weapon, and worse, the poor bastard didn't even seem to know what was going on. He wasn't in control of himself, and that made him unpredictable, dangerous.
Logan took another step closer, slowly raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Toad, you don't have to do this. Whatever she told you, it's a lie. You know that."
Toad blinked, his expression shifting, like he was trying to remember something, but the scar on his forehead pulsed, and whatever brief moment of clarity he had vanished.
"I have to wait," Toad whispered, his voice cracking. "I have to..."
Logan's heart sank. Cassandra had done more than just manipulate him—she'd broken him, torn his mind apart and rebuilt it to suit her needs. He was a puppet, and the strings were pulling tight.
Logan edged closer, his eyes narrowing on the bomb vest, looking for any weak points, anything that might give him a chance to disarm it before Toad could react. But more than that, he was looking for a way to reach the man inside, the old Toad, the one who had suffered but hadn't been reduced to this.
"I'll get you out of this, Toad," Logan promised, though he wasn't sure if it was to comfort Toad or himself.
Toad's eye twitched again, and he whispered, almost to himself, "I can't feel anything..."
As Logan took another step forward, trying to close the distance between himself and Toad without triggering the bomb vest, the mutant's wandering eye twitched again, this time focusing on something—or someone—behind Logan. His lips parted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of recognition in his otherwise vacant expression.
Logan's senses pricked, and he instinctively turned his head just enough to see who Toad was staring at. In the background, standing near the far end of the room, was Wanda Maximoff—the Scarlet Witch. She was watching the scene unfold, her arms crossed, her expression tight with concern.
Suddenly, a strange look washed over Toad's face—somewhere between confusion and realization, like a memory long buried was clawing its way to the surface.
"Toad?" Logan called out, his voice steady but tense. "Focus on me, bub."
But Toad wasn't listening to him anymore. His gaze was locked on Wanda, and a disturbing clarity came over him, his mouth trembling as he spoke.
"Her..." Toad muttered, blinking rapidly, as if shaking off some kind of fog. "I didn't... we didn't..."
Logan's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Toad's face twisted, the scar on his forehead pulsing as memories seemed to flood back into his mind, memories he'd been suppressing—no, memories someone had suppressed for him. His voice cracked with a mix of fear and frustration.
"I... I didn't kill her," he stammered, his eyes darting between Logan and Wanda now, the revelation hitting him like a freight train. "You all... you all thought I did, but I didn't. She... she killed herself."
Logan froze, the words sinking in like a gut punch. For a moment, he wasn't standing in a room with a ticking bomb strapped to an old enemy, he was back on Krakoa, back to that fateful day when Wanda Maximoff had died, an event that had shaken the island to its core. It had been a mess, one they thought they'd sorted out. And when Toad confessed to killing her, no one had questioned it too deeply. They'd exiled him to the Pit, sent him to rot in a living hell for it.
But now, standing here, with Toad's words cutting through the haze of whatever Cassandra Nova had done to him, Logan felt a wave of doubt crash over him.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Logan growled, though his voice wasn't as firm as he wanted it to be. "You confessed, Toad. You admitted to killing her."
Toad's eyes welled with something that resembled regret, or maybe it was just the twisted remnants of whatever mind games Cassandra had played with him. He shook his head, his voice breaking. "I lied... I took the fall... so you wouldn't hold her accountable... so you'd stop blaming Magneto."
Logan's heart sank. The accusation, no, the confession, hit him like a sledgehammer. They had exiled Toad to the Pit based on his confession, one that now sounded like it had been a desperate attempt to protect someone else, to shield Wanda and her father from the fallout of her death. But this changed everything.
Toad continued, his voice growing more erratic, as if saying it out loud was making the memories more real, more tangible. "Wanda... she used that dagger... took it to her own chest. She... she did it herself. And I let you all think I did it... because it was easier than letting you all see the truth."
Logan could feel his hands shaking now. The room seemed to close in on him, and the weight of what Toad was saying pressed down hard on his chest. All the time they had spent blaming Toad, all the years of resentment that had led to his exile, it had all been a lie. And not just any lie, a lie that Toad had willingly carried so that Wanda's legacy wouldn't be stained, so that Magneto wouldn't bear the guilt.
He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the rising tide of regret that threatened to choke him. They had sent Toad to the Pit for something he didn't do, for a murder that never even happened the way they thought it had. And worse, Logan had been part of that judgment. They all had.
Wanda, standing in the back, had heard everything. Her face paled, her eyes wide with shock as the words sank in. She hadn't known, none of them had. The room was deathly silent as the weight of Toad's confession filled the space.
Logan's voice was thick with barely controlled rage and regret as he stepped closer to Toad, his claws itching to unsheathe, but not for violence. For justice. For retribution. "Why... why the hell didn't you say anything sooner, Toad?"
Toad's eye twitched again, and he laughed, an empty, broken sound. "Would you have listened, Logan? Would any of you have listened? I was always the easy scapegoat. I was always the bottom-feeder. No one would've believed me."
Logan swallowed hard, knowing Toad was right. Back then, in the chaos of Krakoa, it had been easier to accept that Toad was guilty. No one had bothered to look deeper, to question whether there was more to the story. It had been simpler to shove him into the Pit and move on.
But now... now there was no going back.
Logan clenched his fists, the enormity of their mistake crashing down on him. Toad wasn't the villain in this story. He had been a pawn, just like everyone else, manipulated, lied to, and discarded. And Logan had been part of that cycle.
"I'm sorry, bub," Logan muttered, his voice low, filled with more pain than he'd ever admit out loud.
But Toad just laughed again, that hollow, bitter laugh. "Sorry doesn't mean much now, does it?"
Logan stood there, frozen, as the truth hung in the air between them. Wanda, still standing in the back, had tears in her eyes, but she didn't move. No one did. They were all trapped in the weight of what Toad had just revealed.
The silence was broken only by the steady beep of the bomb vest's timer, reminding Logan that there was still a very real, very dangerous situation unfolding in front of him. But in that moment, the bomb seemed like the least of his concerns.
Logan had made mistakes before, plenty of them. But this... this one stung in a way that was almost unbearable.
Toad stood there, the bomb vest heavy against his chest, his hands trembling as he hovered over the triggers. Logan watched, his heart pounding in his chest, every muscle in his body ready to react. He could see the struggle in Toad's eyes, the way they darted between the vest and Logan, between the present moment and the ghosts of his past. Then, suddenly, Toad let out a shaky breath and lowered his hands, releasing the triggers.
"Cassandra... she's never gonna let me out now, Logan," Toad muttered, his voice soft and broken. "Not after this... not after I couldn't go through with it."
Logan's eyes widened as the situation shifted in an instant. He watched in horror as the timer on the bomb vest started ticking down on its own, the LED display flashing a cruel countdown: 5:00... 4:59... 4:58.
There was no hesitation in Toad's voice, only resignation as he stared at the countdown. "Get them out, Logan. I couldn't... I wouldn't do it, but there's no stopping it now."
Logan's blood ran cold as the reality of the situation hit him. Cassandra Nova had played them all—used Toad as a puppet, pushing him to this point knowing full well that the moment he backed down, the bomb would activate anyway. There was no way out for him now, no chance to defuse it.
Toad met Logan's gaze, his eyes raw and filled with a strange mix of acceptance and regret. "I'm sorry, Logan... for all of it."
Logan didn't waste another second. "Dammit, Toad!" he growled, his voice thick with frustration and guilt. He wanted to save him, to stop this madness, but there was no time. "I'll get 'em out. You hold on, ya hear me?"
Toad didn't respond, just stared down at the ticking clock on his chest. 4:45... 4:44...
Logan spun around, his claws unsheathing with a SNIKT as he dashed towards the entrance. The apartment complex was still packed with mutants, innocents who had no idea what was about to go down. His mind raced, trying to calculate how to get them all out in time.
"Everybody out!" Logan bellowed, his voice booming through the halls. "Get the hell out, NOW!" He shoved past door after door, breaking them down with his claws, shouting at anyone who was still inside.
Panic erupted as people began to realize what was happening. Families scrambled, grabbing their children and anything they could carry as they ran for the exits. The air was thick with fear, but Logan kept pushing, making sure every room was cleared, making sure no one was left behind.
4:00… 3:59…
He could hear the faint ticking of the bomb vest behind him, echoing in his mind as he raced through the building. It was a race against time, and even with his healing factor, Logan knew there was no walking away from an explosion of this magnitude if they didn't clear out fast enough.
Toad's words haunted him as he worked, Cassandra's manipulation, the fact that Toad hadn't been able to go through with it, and now, even in his final moments, he was asking Logan to save others. There was something tragic in it, something that made Logan's chest tighten with guilt. They had wronged Toad, blamed him, cast him aside—and now, even in the face of his own death, he wanted to make sure others survived.
3:30… 3:29…
Logan's feet pounded against the floor as he made his way back to the main room, where Toad still stood. The building was nearly evacuated, but the clock was still ticking.
Toad met Logan's gaze as he re-entered the room, his hands still limp at his sides. "There's no stopping' it now, is there?" he asked, though the answer was clear in his eyes.
Logan didn't respond, his jaw clenched tight. He could see the truth in Toad's eyes, the way he had already accepted his fate. There was no saving him now, not from this. Cassandra had ensured that.
"Get yourself out, Logan," Toad muttered, his voice barely a whisper now. "You got people to take care of. Don't let this be another obstacle to add to your list that will come between you and that."
But Logan didn't move. For a moment, he stood frozen, caught in the weight of everything that had led them to this point. Toad, a man they had once exiled, was now sacrificing himself to save others. It felt wrong, unfair, but there was nothing Logan could do to change it now.
"Tell Wanda…" Toad began, but his voice cracked, and he didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he just gave Logan a sad, crooked smile. "She deserved better… and I suppose so did I."
The timer continued its merciless countdown. 2:00… 1:59…
Logan's fists clenched, his claws retracting as he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment. "I'll tell her," he muttered, his voice rough, his heart heavy.
And with that, Logan turned and sprinted for the exit, his muscles burning as he pushed himself faster than he had in years. He could hear the ticking behind him, growing fainter as he ran, and he cursed Cassandra Nova under his breath for what she had done, for what she had made Toad do.
The last of the mutants were flooding out of the building, and Logan shoved them forward, urging them to keep moving, to get as far away as they could.
1:30… 1:29…
He didn't stop running until he was outside, the night air cold against his skin. Behind him, the mutant apartment complex loomed, its windows glowing faintly in the moonlight. Logan stood there, his breath ragged, his heart pounding as he watched the seconds tick down.
Toad had stayed behind. He hadn't tried to run, hadn't tried to save himself. He had accepted his fate, knowing that there was no way out this time.
1:00… 0:59…
Logan clenched his fists, his claws threatening to unsheathe again as frustration boiled inside him. This shouldn't have happened. Toad shouldn't have been put in this position. They had failed him, failed to see the truth, failed to help him when he needed it most. And now… now it was too late.
0:30… 0:29…
The building stood silent in the moonlight, and for a brief moment, everything was still. Logan's heart ached with the weight of the moment, knowing that in just a few seconds, everything would change.
And then, with a deafening roar, the apartment complex erupted into flames.
…
The aftermath of the explosion left the night air heavy with the acrid scent of smoke and debris. The mutant apartment complex, though still standing, bore the scars of the blast. The main lobby was a mess—windows shattered, walls scorched and blackened, and dust lingering in the air like a haunting reminder of what had just transpired.
SHIELD personnel moved methodically through the wreckage, their faces stoic, though the weight of the tragedy hung over them like a pall. They worked in silence, picking through the debris, carefully documenting the scene, searching for whatever was left of Toad. There wasn't much, pieces of the vest, fragments of the detonator, but the knowledge of what they would eventually find was sobering.
The lobby, once a hub of life, had become a tomb. Agents crouched near the spot where Toad had been, their gloved hands picking up the bits of fabric and material that had been left behind. A grim quiet settled over them as they gathered what they could, cataloging each piece, knowing that this was all that remained of a mutant who had been both a friend and an outcast.
And just outside the blast zone, Wanda Maximoff, once the Scarlet Witch, now broken by the weight of her past—stood with her face buried in her hands, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She was wrecked, her entire frame trembling as sobs wracked her body. Her mind was a swirl of confusion and guilt, and no matter how much comfort her friends tried to offer, nothing could ease the crushing sorrow that filled her heart.
All this time, Wanda had believed the lie. She had believed that Toad had been the one to kill her, or rather, the previous Wanda, the one who had died before the resurrection protocols. But now, the truth had come out, and it tore her apart. Toad hadn't killed her. She had done it herself. She had taken her own life with the dagger, and Toad had taken the fall, lied to protect her, and to protect Magneto.
And now he was gone.
Polaris, her sister, held her tightly, her own face twisted in grief as she tried to offer some semblance of comfort. Rogue and Gambit stood by her side, their presence a quiet support as Wanda wept openly, the full weight of the consequences of her actions crashing down on her. Rogue's hand rested gently on Wanda's back, her normally strong demeanor softened by the rawness of the moment. Even Gambit, often the joker, was somber, his expression etched with sadness as he watched his friend break.
"Ah can't believe it..." Rogue muttered quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "Ah just can't believe it's come to this."
Wanda's voice cracked as she spoke, her words barely audible through her tears. "I didn't know... I didn't know it wasn't him. I thought— I thought it was him, all this time... and it was me. I did this."
Polaris held her tighter, her own tears falling as she pressed her cheek against Wanda's head. "Shh... it's not your fault, Wanda. It's not your fault."
But Wanda shook her head, the guilt overwhelming. "I... I made him suffer. He took the blame, and he, He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this!"
Logan stood nearby, silent and grim, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene unfold. His heart was heavy, guilt gnawing at his insides. He had to tell her. He had to tell Wanda what Toad had said before the end, even though every part of him wanted to leave it buried, to spare her more pain. But he owed it to Toad.
Slowly, Logan approached the group, his boots crunching softly over the debris as he moved closer. His presence drew their attention, and Rogue glanced up at him, her tear-filled eyes meeting his with a silent question. Logan looked down at Wanda, her sobs still wracking her frame as she leaned against Polaris, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he could do it. But he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke.
"Wanda..." His voice was low, rough. "I need to tell ya somethin'. Somethin' Toad said before it all went down."
Wanda looked up at him, her red-rimmed eyes wide, her tear-streaked face full of confusion and pain. "What did he say?" she asked. "Toad... He wanted me to tell ya somethin'. Before it all happened." Logan paused, the weight of Toad's last words pressing heavily on his shoulders. "He said... you deserved better."
Wanda's eyes welled up again, her lip quivering. "Wh-what?" she whispered, her voice shaky, barely able to process what she was hearing.
Logan swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, the memory of Toad's final moments clearer than he wanted them to be. "The way he said it... it wasn't just words, Wanda. He was strugglin', like he was fightin' with himself. Cassandra Nova... she did somethin' to his mind. Messed him up bad. You could hear it, like... two voices in his head, fightin' for control."
Logan's voice dropped lower, filled with a rough sort of empathy. "But when he said it—when he said you deserved better, it sounded like it was comin' from the real him. The Toad that we all knew... before the Pit, before all this crap with Krakoa."
Wanda blinked, her breath hitching as she listened. Logan could see the mix of emotions swirling in her eyes—confusion, sorrow, guilt, and a glimmer of something like understanding. "I... I didn't deserve better..." she whispered, shaking her head as tears welled up again. "I... I blamed him. We all blamed him... for something I did..."
Logan's jaw tightened, his voice gravelly but gentle. "I ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy to live with, Wanda. What happened on Krakoa... all of us carry a piece of that guilt. But Toad, whatever Cassandra did to him, he still had enough left in him to try and tell ya somethin' important."
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he met her eyes again. "He didn't want ya to keep blamin' yourself. He took the fall for it, yeah, but in his own way, he was tryin' to protect ya, even when he was fightin' whatever Cassandra put in his head."
Polaris's grip around Wanda tightened as she let out a small, broken sob, her head burying itself in her sister's shoulder. "I... I didn't know," Wanda whimpered, her body shaking with grief. "I didn't know..."
Logan sighed, his own heart heavy with the weight of what Toad had said. "None of us did, Wanda. But I'm tellin' ya now because he wanted ya to hear it. You deserve better... and that's what he wanted ya to remember."
Wanda's tears flowed freely now, her body trembling with the weight of everything that had happened. Rogue stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. "Ah know it don't make it easier, sugar, but ya gotta let yourself heal too. Toad... he wouldn't want ya carryin' all this pain."
Gambit nodded, his voice low and somber. "We all made mistakes, chère. But holdin' onto them won't bring him back. What we can do now... is honor what he tried to do for you."
Wanda wiped at her tears, though they continued to fall, her mind swimming with guilt, sorrow, and a deep sense of loss. "I... I wish I could take it all back," she whispered, her voice broken. "I wish I could've known sooner..."
Logan stood, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "Ain't nothin' you can do about the past, Wanda. But you can start movin' forward. Toad... whatever Cassandra did to him, he still wanted you to know that you mattered to him. And that's gotta count for somethin'."
Wanda nodded weakly, her tears continuing to fall, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She couldn't change the past, but she could choose what to do with what Toad had left her.
As the SHIELD agents finished their grim task, gathering the last remnants of Toad's sacrifice, Logan stood quietly with the others, watching as the broken pieces of Toad's life were carefully documented and carried away. The room still echoed with the weight of everything unsaid, everything lost. But at least, now, Toad's final words had been heard.
Wanda may have been broken, but in that moment, Logan hoped she might start to find a way forward, even if it was just a small step. Because that's what Toad had tried to give her, even in the end, just one small step toward something akin to closure.
…
As Logan made his way back into Avengers Tower, the weight of the day pulling heavily on him, he was met by the unmistakable presence of one of Peter-Knull's Seraphis symbiotes. Their ethereal forms seemed to glide through the air, moving with an elegance that set them apart from anything else in the symbiote family.
The soft glow surrounding the Seraphis filled the room with a gentle light, that gave the impression they were walking among halos. Their pale, luminescent forms seemed to pulse with a quiet power, and their eyes, bright and filled with ancient wisdom, locked onto Logan as they approached. "Logan," the Seraphis symbiote spoke, though it felt as if all three bodies were speaking together, their voices blending into one harmonious, calming tone. "We bring a message."
Logan stopped in his tracks, standing a little taller. After everything that had happened with Toad, he hadn't expected this. "What is it?" he asked, his gruff voice lined with weariness.
The three bodies of the Seraphis symbiote moved in perfect synchrony as they spoke, their glowing forms gracefully stepping closer. "Toad's soul has been intercepted," they began. "We found him on his way to the realms beyond, and we ensured he would not fall under the influence of Cassandra Nova's manipulations again."
Logan felt the tension ease slightly from his chest. The image of Toad's final moments—his mind fractured, his soul torn between duty and self-preservation—had weighed heavily on him. Knowing that Toad had found peace, away from Cassandra's twisted influence, brought him a sense of comfort, even if it couldn't erase the pain of what had happened.
"He is at peace now," the Seraphis continued, their voices resonating softly but with an undeniable strength. "No longer will he suffer the control of others. His spirit has entered the realms of our symbiotic afterlife, surrounded by serenity."
Logan closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. He hadn't realized just how much he needed to hear that. Toad deserved peace after everything he'd been through, and knowing that Peter-Knull's Seraphis symbiotes had been there to catch his soul before it was lost... it made the world seem just a little less cruel.
"Thanks," Logan muttered, his voice quieter than usual but filled with sincerity. "He deserved that much."
The Seraphis symbiote inclined their heads as one, their forms shifting slightly as they continued. "There is more. Erik Lensherr, known to you as Magneto, wishes to pass a message to his daughter, Wanda Maximoff."
Logan's brow furrowed. Magneto had been gone for some time, finding peace in Peter-Knull's symbiotic afterlife. It wasn't a death that was broadcast to the world, but one that had happened quietly, in his own time.
"He sends his love and support," the Seraphis said, their three forms turning slightly, their glowing eyes focusing on Logan's reaction. "He knows that Wanda has been through much, and though he cannot be with her in this world, he stands with her in spirit. He believes in her strength and wishes for her to know she is never alone."
The weight of those words hit Logan in a way he hadn't expected. Wanda had been carrying the burden of her actions for far too long, and after what had just happened with Toad, hearing that her father's soul still supported her... it might be exactly what she needed.
Logan nodded, his throat tightening slightly as he processed the message. "I'll make sure she knows," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Thanks again. Really."
The Seraphis symbiote's three forms bowed slightly in unison before they gracefully moved away, their ethereal light fading as they disappeared into another part of the tower, leaving Logan standing there, deep in thought.
For the first time in days, Logan felt a sense of relief. Toad was at peace, no longer manipulated by Cassandra Nova. Magneto had passed on his love to Wanda, offering her strength from beyond the grave. And despite the chaos that continued to swirl around them, Peter-Knull's symbiotes were there, offering their unique form of protection, even when Peter himself was off-world, fighting battles in distant galaxies.
Logan took a deep breath, his mind a little clearer now. He had to find Wanda. She needed to hear her father's message.
As he walked toward the elevator, his steps felt just a little lighter, knowing that, at least in some way, they weren't alone in this fight.
In the quiet sanctuary of Wanda's room, the air was thick with the lingering emotions of everything that had happened. She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands resting on her knees, eyes still red from the tears she had shed earlier. Logan stood nearby, his arms crossed, leaning against the doorway with a gruff, yet sympathetic look on his face.
Wanda had been through so much, more than anyone should ever have to bear—and the weight of her guilt, her decisions, and her grief seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud. But after Logan had shared the message from the Seraphis symbiote, relaying the words from Magneto and the news that Toad had found peace, something shifted in her.
She looked up at Logan, her voice soft but filled with a quiet strength. "Thank you, Logan... for telling me." Her lips curled into a faint smile, though her eyes were still shadowed with the weight of everything. "I really needed to hear that."
Logan gave a small nod, his expression still rough, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He wasn't one for emotional speeches, but even he knew how much this moment mattered. He had seen Wanda at her worst, fighting against the darkness inside herself, and he knew the kind of weight she carried. This small moment of relief, it was something she deserved.
"It's good to know..." Wanda continued, her voice gaining a bit more steadiness as she spoke. "That Toad is at peace now. After everything, I thought..." She trailed off for a moment, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as if grounding herself. "I thought I had condemned him to an awful fate because of what I did. But knowing that Peter-Knull and his Seraphis symbiotes provided him a way out, a way to find peace... it means more than I can say."
She glanced at Logan, her eyes shimmering with both relief and lingering sadness. "You were right. Peter-Knull... he's given us a way out of the fates that awaited all of us eventually, in this multiverse." Her voice softened, her gaze distant for a moment, as if reflecting on everything that had led them to this point. "It's like there's a... a second chance. For all of us."
Logan uncrossed his arms, stepping a little closer to Wanda. His rough demeanor couldn't hide the fact that he understood her pain all too well. "We all get our demons, Wanda," he said, his voice low, a hint of gravel in his tone. "Some of us face 'em sooner than others. But what matters is how we fight 'em, and if we can still stand afterward." He paused, glancing at her. "You're still standing."
Wanda gave him a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm trying."
Logan nodded again, understanding. "That's all any of us can do."
For a moment, there was silence between them, the room feeling almost too small for the weight of their shared histories. Wanda let out a slow, deep breath, as if letting go of something she had been holding onto for too long.
"Thank you, Logan," she said again, her voice soft but genuine. "For bringing me this news. It... helps. Knowing Toad is at peace, and that my father still... believes in me. After everything."
Logan gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned toward the door. "Take care of yourself, Wanda. I'll be around if you need anything."
Wanda watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. She let out another breath, this one lighter, as if some of the crushing weight on her shoulders had finally begun to lift. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel entirely alone in her grief. There was still so much she had to face, but at least now, she knew there was a path forward, one that didn't end in the same kind of darkness she had once feared.
Peter-Knull's influence, his symbiotes, had provided more than just power, they had provided hope. And that, Wanda thought, was something worth holding onto.
As she lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, she allowed herself the smallest bit of peace. Toad was at rest. Her father was watching over her. And she didn't have to be afraid anymore. She could finally find closure.
…
That night, the skies over Earth darkened with the return of Peter-Knull and his forces. Their ships descended quietly, sleek and high-tech, the weight of their recent battle evident in the weary but determined posture of those onboard. But they were not alone. With them came the alien refugees, survivors from the ravaged planet Peter-Knull had just saved, though "saved" seemed like a hollow word when their once-beautiful world had been reduced to molten wastelands.
The refugees were a species unlike anything Earth had seen. They were humanoid in form but bore strong similarities to yeti and lemur hybrids. Tall, with thick fur in shades of white, gray, and black, they had long, striped tails that swayed gracefully with each step. Their large, expressive eyes—set deep in faces that hinted at both wisdom and innocence, reflected the sorrow of losing their home. They moved with an elegant, almost agile grace, even as they carried what little they had managed to save.
Their tribal outfits were woven from the natural materials of their lost world, now more precious than ever. They adorned themselves with beads, feathers, and fabrics made from rare plants, each one a symbol of their culture, now all that remained of their planet's vibrant life. The artifacts they carried, small statues of their patrons and heroes, ceremonial tools, seeds, livestock and animal embryos and plants, were their history and future in physical form. Every piece they clutched tightly was a reminder of a world they could no longer touch, but one they vowed to rebuild someday.
But for now, their world was uninhabitable. The constant streams of lava and the ash that blackened their skies made survival there impossible. In two and a half desperate days, they had gathered what they could, but it was clear to all of them that it would take years, maybe even centuries, before their world could sustain life again. The survivors knew they had to preserve what they had brought with them, plants, animals, and sacred items they brought with them to all the worlds they would now call home, if they ever hoped to repopulate their planet.
As they disembarked, they were greeted by the Seraphis symbiotes, angelic beings who glided alongside Peter-Knull's forces. These ethereal protectors had ensured the refugees' safety, offering not only transport but hope for the future. Peter-Knull, ever the silent sentinel, walked at the forefront of the group, his eyes scanning the horizon of Earth. Though his gaze was unreadable, the subtle nods he gave to the Seraphis and his own symbiote forces conveyed everything: they had saved lives, and for now, that was enough.
Even though their world lay in ruins, these refugees were safe, and under Peter-Knull's protection, they would have a chance to rebuild. There was still hope, a fragile, flickering flame, that one day, their home would flourish again. But until that day, they would protect the plants and animals they had saved, preserving them in hopes that they could repopulate the land they loved.
It might take years, decades even, but for now, they had something they didn't have before: time and safety. And with Peter-Knull, they had someone who understood the value of both.
…
As Peter-Knull stood before the holographic display inside the SHIELD facility, his eyes reflected the glow of the elemental symbiotes working tirelessly in a distant galaxy. The image on the screen was both awe-inspiring and surreal, massive elemental symbiotes, each as large as mountains, could be seen shifting oceans and stabilizing tectonic plates on the devastated planet they had just left behind. Peter's telepathic communication with his symbiotes connected him to each of their efforts, their progress and challenges unfolding before him in real-time, despite the immeasurable distance.
"These symbiotes are already re-stabilizing the oceans and cooling the molten surface," Peter-Knull explained, his voice calm but focused, eyes scanning the different sections of the planet being restored. "It's not just the molten rock—lava flows have compromised the planet's core integrity, and without stabilizing it, the planet would collapse in on itself." He pointed to one area on the holographic map. "Here, the Primordial Elementals are diverting magma rivers and re-channeling the heat into safer vents."
Maria Hill stood beside him, arms crossed, processing what she was seeing. "It's like watching living ecosystems repair themselves… but on a planetary scale." Her eyes traced the forms of the giant symbiotes, entities representing the elements of fire, water, earth, and air. Their gargantuan bodies shifted the planet's geography with ease, magma cooling beneath their colossal feet while fire symbiotes churned molten rock in controlled streams, ensuring nothing erupted out of control.
"The Seraphis symbiotes are handling what life we could recover," Peter-Knull added, turning to another display. "They're healing plant and animal life, their bodies designed for restoration and peace." The image flickered, showing the graceful forms of the Seraphis symbiotes, their three synchronized bodies moving in perfect unison. As one moved to inspect a scorched tree, the others followed the exact movement, as though they shared a single mind. With delicate precision, they purged the toxins from charred plant life and removed the ash, coaxing the remnants back to life.
Hill nodded, her gaze shifting to another corner of the display where the Shellshock symbiotes were diving deep into the oceans. These symbiotic creatures, resembling enormous, turtle-like beings, swam through the boiling waters, retrieving whatever marine life had survived the devastation. "They've already recovered some of the larger sea creatures," Peter-Knull noted. "Shellshock symbiotes have a unique ability to withstand extreme heat. They've managed to relocate whale-like creatures and even some dolphin-like organisms, ensuring their survival."
Maria exhaled slowly, still processing the logistics of the entire operation. "How are we even going to house these creatures until the planet becomes habitable again?"
"We're setting up habitat facilities," Peter-Knull replied, pointing to the section of space where these refuges were being built. "Both the land-dwellers and sea creatures will be preserved and cared for until the planet cools down and becomes livable again. It could take years, but the symbiotes will maintain the balance, just as they did for their own kind."
The scale of it was staggering. A whole planet, saved from the brink of annihilation, and all done through the will of symbiotic beings acting as planetary custodians. Hill was impressed. "You really think we can bring that world back?"
Peter-Knull gave a small nod, eyes focused on the holograms as they flickered with updates. "There's always hope, Maria. It's what keeps us going. The planet will take time, but it will recover. Just like the refugees."
Hill's gaze softened as she thought of the tribal-like aliens they had saved. The Y'lemet, as Peter-Knull referred to them.
"At least the Y'lemet have something to return to someday," Hill mused, watching as Peter-Knull shifted his focus between the symbiotes' efforts and the logistics of the entire planetary restoration. "They saved enough to start again, and thanks to these symbiotes, their world won't be lost forever."
Peter-Knull's eyes flickered, sensing Hill's thoughts. "Exactly," he agreed. "That world will bloom again, just like ours has before." And with that, the image of the primordial elemental symbiotes continued to cycle constantly working, constantly saving what they could.
…
Kitty Pryde sat in the corner booth of a cozy bar, laughing with her friends as the warmth of the dim lighting softened the edges of the world around them. Jane—Logan's female variant—leaned back, her claws retracting after a friendly competition between her and Laura about who could carve the most detailed claw marks on the table. Aurora, Peter Blue-A1's oldest daughter, was mid-story, her red curls bouncing as she recounted a recent mission. Her mother, Mystique Blue-A1 , sitting nearby, smirked at the theatrics.
Mystique and Destiny, this world's counterparts, sat beside each other, quietly observing the conversation. Even in moments of peace, they remained composed, vigilant in their own subtle ways. Victoria Creed, always one to light up a room with her chaotic energy, was busy teasing Gabriella, who sat close to Laura, the two of them sharing conspiratorial grins.
Everything was... normal. Or at least, as normal as life had become lately. Peter-Knull's influence had shifted the dynamic of their world. Symbiotic technology now integrated seamlessly into the everyday life of their universe—early warning systems, symbiotic defenses, and galactic grids were constantly being fine-tuned, all designed to stave off potential threats like the remaining Knulls and interdimensional incursions. Things had grown more stable, almost predictable.
"Yeah, well, when you're prepared like Peter-Knull is, everything's just... kind of boring now," Kitty said with a half-smile, sipping her drink. "I'm not complaining, but seriously—has anyone else noticed things have gotten weirdly... peaceful?"
"Peaceful?" Jane let out a snort, slashing a grin at Kitty. "Speak for yourself, Pryde. Some of us still get into plenty of scrapes. Or are you forgetting that little skirmish last week?"
"Please," Laura chimed in. "That was over in five minutes. Nothing compared to what we used to deal with."
"Yeah, and that's the thing," Kitty said, nodding. "We don't get the same level of threats anymore. It's all big, intergalactic stuff now. Peter-Knull's taken down six Knulls so far. We're winning."
Gabriella smirked, but then leaned forward with a curious gleam in her eye. "Speaking of news... did you guys hear the latest about Victoria Creed's family?"
Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? And what juicy gossip have you dug up about my pack?"
"Thirteen kids, huh?" Laura teased. "And there's talk of a fourteenth on the way?"
Jane almost spit out her drink. "Another one?!" she exclaimed. "How did I not know about this? When were you going to tell us, Vic?"
Victoria laughed, completely unbothered by the sudden focus on her ever-growing list of her and her Peter's children. "I was waiting for the right moment. Plus, I wanted to see who'd find out first. Guess you heard from Jubilee, Dazzler, and Rachel?"
Gabriella nodded, grinning. "They're all talking about it."
This news caught Mystique and Destiny's attention. Destiny, ever the curious one, narrowed her eyes. "You know... I've been good. I've been letting life unfold naturally without peeking too much into the future."
"But now?" Mystique prompted with a smirk.
"But now," Destiny confirmed, her voice light with mischief, "I'm going to take a quick look."
The group fell silent as Destiny's usually blank eyes glazed over for a moment, her vision slipping just far enough ahead to catch a glimpse of Victoria's future daughter. A small smile crept onto her face.
"What do you see?" Aurora asked, leaning forward.
Destiny blinked, the vision settling in her mind. "She's... playful. Definitely the spitting image of her mother," Destiny said, her voice soft. "But she's got brown hair, unlike her mother, and..." She hesitated for a beat, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.
"And what?" Jane asked, impatience dripping from her tone.
"She has Spider-Man's powers," Destiny finished, a smirk tugging at her lips.
The entire table burst into laughter. "Of course she does!" Victoria said, grinning wide, clearly unfazed by the news. "Why wouldn't she?"
Jane shook her head, still chuckling. "Well, Vic, you've officially got the most interesting family on the block. Good luck keeping track of all of them."
"Luck?" Victoria scoffed playfully. "I don't need luck. I've got it covered." But the glint in her eye said otherwise, there was always a bit of chaos when it came to managing that many kids.
Kitty leaned back in her seat, feeling the weight of the evening's revelations settling in. In the grand scheme of things, peace felt almost too calm. But having these moments of normalcy, even amidst all the alien tech and cosmic threats, was something to be cherished. And knowing that the future, while unpredictable, still held some laughter and surprises? That was something Kitty could definitely live with.
Destiny smiled, her gaze soft yet full of that unsettling knowing look that only she could wear so effortlessly. She waited for the laughter to die down a bit before casually adding, "Oh, and by the way, Victoria, you have three more children in the future."
The table froze. Everyone, including Kitty, stared at Destiny, unsure if they'd heard correctly. The room went completely silent for a moment, the previous chuckles forgotten.
Victoria blinked, processing the sudden information. "I'm sorry… what?" she asked, leaning forward, her voice tight with disbelief.
Destiny didn't miss a beat. "Three more," she repeated matter-of-factly, as if talking about the weather. "Your family of fourteen becomes seventeen eventually. A nice big family."
Victoria's jaw dropped, and she let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. "Seventeen?! Are you serious?" Her hands flew to her head, tugging at her hair in mock desperation. "How do we even, how do I—" she sputtered before throwing up her hands. "Oh my god. This just keeps getting better."
The entire table erupted again, but this time the laughter was tinged with pure shock. Jane shook her head, grinning. "You've gotta be kidding me," she said, looking at Destiny as if the older woman were spinning some kind of cosmic joke.
But Destiny's expression stayed calm, almost amused by the chaos she'd just created. "Oh no," she said, her voice soothing but playful. "It's not a joke. You've got three more on the way in due time."
Victoria leaned back in her chair, one hand covering her face as she groaned. "I barely have enough time to keep up with the ones I've got now. How am I supposed to handle 'seventeen'?"
Kitty, suppressing her own laughter, reached over and patted Victoria's arm. "You'll figure it out," she said, teasing. "If anyone can manage a household of seventeen, it's you."
"Yeah, right," Victoria muttered, glancing at the table. "First Spider-powers, now this? What else is hiding in the future?" she asked, only half-joking.
Destiny smirked knowingly but said nothing. Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly not comforted by the silence, and finally leaned back with a sigh.
"Well," she said, a playful glint in her eye. "At least our family dinners are never going to be boring."
The table cracked up again, and for the rest of the evening, the mood lightened with jokes and banter about Victoria's ever-expanding family. But as much as she laughed, Victoria's gaze occasionally drifted off in thought, her mind already racing ahead to what the future might hold, not just for her, but for her growing family of powered-up children. And despite the weight of Destiny's words, a part of her couldn't help but be a little bit excited about the chaos to come.
The table's laughter was still echoing through the cozy bar when the air suddenly grew cold, and an eerie silence crept over the group. It was subtle at first—a collective unease that made everyone pause mid-conversation. The hairs on the back of Kitty's neck stood on end, and Victoria stopped mid-laugh, her eyes narrowing.
Before anyone could react, the door to the bar creaked open. The low hum of conversation from the other patrons died almost immediately as two figures stepped through the entrance. Cassandra Nova walked in with her unsettling calm, a cruel smile already twisting her thin lips. Beside her, towering and menacing, was Legion—his presence alone enough to fill the room with a weight of unspoken power.
"Well," Cassandra purred, her voice dripping with malice. "Look at all of you. How cozy." She glanced around the table, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Mind if we join the family reunion?"
No one spoke. Jane, Aurora, and the others stared at her, their expressions ranging from shock to barely concealed rage. Kitty shifted in her seat, her hand instinctively starting to activate her phasing powers, but something about Cassandra's demeanor—so brazen and confident—froze them all in place. It wasn't fear; it was a certainty that something far worse was about to unfold.
Without waiting for an answer, Cassandra moved to an empty chair at the head of the table and sat down, crossing her legs leisurely, as though she were among old friends. Legion remained standing, his arms folded, eyes darting erratically as the multiple personalities within him flickered across his expression.
Victoria clenched her fists under the table, her instincts were flaring. She could feel the tension rising in the room like a taut string about to snap. "What the hell do you want, Nova?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous.
Cassandra's smile widened, a predatory glint in her eye. "Oh, come now, darling. Is that any way to treat family?" Her gaze shifted to Destiny, locking onto her with a knowing smirk. "After all, Irene here could've seen this coming, couldn't she?"
Destiny's face remained unreadable, but her fingers twitched ever so slightly, a sign that the arrival of these two was not part of any prediction she'd shared. The room felt like it was on the verge of implosion, the weight of Cassandra's presence filling every corner.
Kitty swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "What are you playing at, Cassandra?"
Cassandra leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. "Oh, nothing much. I just thought I'd drop by and remind all of you that no matter how much you try to run, no matter how many children you have, how many futures you hope for…" Her smile turned into a twisted sneer. "You're all still Xavier's little pawns. And in the end, Charles and I? We're not so different, are we?"
Kitty's fists clenched under the table. Every instinct in her body screamed to tell Cassandra she was wrong. But wasn't she? Xavier's lies about the Krakoan flowers, turning them into drugs for the world; the resurrection deception, where the dead were brought back under false pretenses; the horrific truth that Sinister had manipulated every resurrection, embedding his genetic code under Xavier's watch. The memories were still fresh, and no one could deny them.
Jane, seated beside Victoria, visibly tensed. Ms. Xavier had done the same in her world before Peter-Knull took her down. And now this world's Xavier was rotting in a maximum-security prison alongside Exodus and Sebastian Shaw, their manipulations exposed. Cassandra was right. The truth was a poison no one could spit out.
Cassandra's gaze flicked to Gabriella, who was sitting further down the table, shivering. Everyone knew why. Cassandra Nova had intruded on her private moment with Wild-Claw not too long ago, seeding fear where there had once been warmth. Gabriella looked pale, her hands trembling slightly. Cassandra took note, her smile widening like a predator savoring its prey.
"You can't deny it, can you?" Cassandra's voice was a low, dangerous hum. "He's just like me. And deep down, you all know it."
No one dared move. Kitty wanted to scream, wanted to tell her she was lying, that Xavier had always been about hope and a better world. But that wasn't the truth anymore, and they all knew it. There was no defense, no words that could undo the tangled mess that Xavier had left behind.
Cassandra leaned back, her eyes sparkling with triumph. Legion, standing silently beside her, flickered between personalities, his gaze unfocused, though somewhere in his fractured mind, he seemed aware of the chaos his ally was sowing. She had them cornered, and she knew it.
Victoria's growl broke the silence, low and guttural, her anger barely restrained. "What do you want? Why choose now to play this game?"
The entire room shifted its focus to Cassandra, waiting for her next move. She let the silence hang for a moment, drawing it out like a master manipulator. Then, with a soft chuckle, she leaned forward again, her smirk deepening into something far more dangerous.
"I've been doing some thinking," Cassandra said, her tone almost casual, which only made it more unsettling. "And I think it's time I turned over a new leaf." She paused, savoring the confusion and unease spreading across the room. Then, in one swift motion, she held up her wrists, offering them forward as though expecting handcuffs. "Take me to your leaders," she said with a grin that sent shivers down everyone's spine.
A collective breath was drawn, the tension snapping taut as everyone processed what they were seeing. Cassandra Nova, surrendering?
"Or…" she added, her voice dripping with venomous amusement, "will you sow further division by trying to kill me now?" She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on each of them, daring someone to act. Legion mimicked her, raising his hands with a strange, vacant smirk on his face, mirroring his aunts gesture.
Kitty's stomach twisted, a sickening realization settling in her gut. This wasn't an olive branch. This was another trap. They couldn't kill her, not now. Not when she was handing herself over under the pretense of turning herself in. She was using the legal system, weaving herself into it, and there was no way to retaliate without playing into her hands. They all saw it.
Destiny's eyes narrowed, but her face remained still, unreadable. Gabriella flinched visibly, fear written all over her face. The room had gone from simmering tension to an unholy nightmare in a matter of moments.
"Why now?" Kitty forced out, her voice barely a whisper, her gaze locked on Cassandra's twisted smirk. She could feel the room spiraling, the tension on the verge of snapping again. "Why now?"
Cassandra shrugged, her smirk never faltering. "Oh, you know me," she said airily. "I love chaos. But I also love a good game." Her eyes gleamed with something dark, something sinister. "And what better way to play than by putting you all in a position where you can't retaliate? After all, I'm just a poor little prisoner now." She leaned back in her chair, her wrists still outstretched. "Go on. Arrest me. Or… don't."
The air felt heavy, suffocating. No one knew her endgame, but they could all see what she was doing. She had backed them into a corner, where any move they made could fracture them further. Her smirk was the most disturbing part, it was the smile of someone who had already won, someone who had already seen the strings she was pulling, and knew no one could cut them.
Victoria's fists clenched, her body vibrating with rage. "What are you doing?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "What the hell is your endgame, Nova?"
Cassandra's smile only grew wider. "Oh, darling. That's for me to know and for you to figure out." She stood, still holding her wrists out. "Now, shall we? Or are you going to sit there, torn between justice and chaos?"
Kitty's heart pounded in her chest as the room seemed to freeze around them, the decision hanging in the air like a blade.