Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2

by abcd12344321

A direct sequel to Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, takes place a few days after the original story ended, Peter-Knull has made this world his home, having become an unlikely protector. But in the shadows of the multiverse, his actions have gained the attention of powerful beings. Beings that will stop at nothing to see him destroyed; this is his story.

12. Chapter 12

So I have to announce something guys, I think I'm going to take a break from several stories to plan ahead that way I can work on the long-term planning involving some of the stories, considering I'm working on another story alongside my other sories that's set in the game of thrones universe during season 3 that I'm going to release when I'm done with the story within the confines of the third season in terms of the storyline so that way I can get it done in a few releases at a time. So, I just wanted to put that out there, I'm working on fleshing out multiple chapters before I post a single story from here on out so I can get the names and lore of different areas and characters right given how Game of Thrones is insanely complex already, most likely I will finish the story arcs before I post them. Just so you all know.

But don't worry I'll still update this story chapter by chapter, I'm just about two chapters ahead at a time so I know what will happen next.

Anyway, thanks for your patience.

…

Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2

Chapter 12:The Calm Before the Storm

…

Nick Fury paced his office, his one good eye trained on the holographic display of the message he had just received. His temper was barely in check as he punched in the secure line to the higher-ups, demanding answers. The screen flickered, and the stern faces of Directors Laurence Whitmore and Evelyn Shaw appeared.

"Directors," Fury began, his voice taut with controlled anger, "I need to understand exactly what you have in mind during this so-called 'examination' of this Wanda Maximoff variant and her unborn child."

Whitmore, a man with a perpetual look of cold calculation, adjusted his glasses. "Director Fury, the subject in question originates from a universe where a global plague has turned all life into zombies. It is imperative that we understand the full extent and nature of the reanimation process she underwent. Moreover, the implications of her pregnancy are unknown and could pose a significant risk."

Fury's jaw tightened. "I understand the risks but based on all the evidence. She's been showing signs of recovery, of healing. Peter Red-A2's serums are working."

Evelyn Shaw spoke up next, "And what guarantees do we have that she won't pose a threat here? Shaw, with her icy demeanor, leaned forward. "We acknowledge Peter Red-A2's efforts, but we must confirm that there are no lingering contaminants. It is not enough to see signs of recovery. We need to ensure that the viral spread is completely eradicated. This is a precautionary measure, Director. Nothing more."

"Precautionary?" Fury's voice rose slightly. "This isn't some lab specimen we're talking about. This is a woman, a mother-to-be. You can't just 'examine' her like she's a sample under a microscope."

Whitmore remained unmoved. "Director Fury, the stakes are too high. The potential risk is too great. Even if she appears safe, we need to be certain. This is standard protocol."

Fury's suspicion grew with each clinical word. There was something in their demeanor, something that suggested they weren't telling him everything. But without concrete proof, he had nothing to legally challenge their decision. His hands were tied, and he hated it.

"I trust you'll handle this with the utmost respect and care," Fury said, his tone making it clear that it wasn't a request but a warning.

"Of course," Shaw replied smoothly. "We are only doing what is necessary to protect our world."

The call ended, and Fury slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He needed to find a way to protect Wanda and her child without compromising the safety of their world. But how?

Just then, Maria Hill entered his office, her expression grim. "Director Fury, we need to talk."

Fury nodded, gesturing for her to sit. "I know. I just got off the call with Whitmore and Shaw. They're not giving me the full picture."

Hill took a deep breath. "They've tasked me with arranging the transport. I don't like it, Nick. Something feels off."

"I agree," Fury said. "But without proof, we're stuck. We need to keep a close eye on this. Any slip, any indication that they're going beyond what's necessary, we step in."

Hill nodded. "Understood. I'll start making preparations, but I'll also set up a team to monitor every step of the process."

"Good. And keep Peter Red-A2 in the loop. He deserves to know what's happening."

As Hill left the office, Fury stared at the holographic map of the new symbiotic world he was engrossed in before the news reached him. So much was happening at once, this world wasn't the same world they once knew. He had to protect his people, but he also had to navigate the murky waters of politics and bureaucracy.

And God did he hate the bureaucracy…

…

Maria Hill sat across from Peter Red-A2 and his Wanda in a quiet, secluded room within the SHIELD facility. The atmosphere was tense, the gravity of the situation weighing on her, Wanda, her pallor still evident but with a faint glow of vitality returning to her cheeks, tilted her head in worry as she sensed the unease in the room.

Peter Red-A2 held his rejuvenated Wanda's hand tightly, his other hand nervously tapping on the table. "What's going on, Hill? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Hill took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Peter, Wanda, I've just come from a meeting with some of our higher-ups. They've decided to proceed with an examination of Wanda and the unborn child."

Peter's face darkened. "Examination? What do you mean?"

"They want to make sure there are no lingering contaminants from the virus that caused the zombification. They say it's a precaution, but..." Hill hesitated, not wanting to alarm them more than necessary, but the truth had to be told. "The way they said 'examination'... it didn't sit right with me. It sounded more invasive than just a check-up."

Wanda's eyes widened, her grip on Peter's hand tightening. As she growled protectively.

"They want to treat them like lab rats, don't they?" the Peter variant said with an edge in his voice.

Peter's jaw clenched. "After everything we've done, everything we've been through... they can't do this to her. To us."

Hill leaned forward, her voice firm but reassuring. "Listen, I don't like this any more than you do. But here's the situation: you're allowed to bring up to three others with you. Captain America has already volunteered to accompany you. Nick Fury is also willing to step in if anything goes wrong or if they overstep their boundaries."

Peter nodded, though his worry was evident. "Who else can come with us?"

Hill considered for a moment. "I'd suggest someone with medical expertise and someone with combat experience, just in case. We need to cover all bases."

Peter's voice was soft but determined. "What about Doctor Strange? He understands the mystical and medical aspects. And Logan... he's always been there for us."

Hill smiled slightly. "Good choices. I'll make the arrangements. You won't be alone in this."

Peter's eyes met Hill's, a mix of gratitude and resolve. "Thank you, Maria. We'll be ready."

Hill stood, giving them a reassuring nod. "Stay strong. And keep that hope alive."

As Hill left the room, Peter turned to Wanda, who looked up at him with a mix of fear and hope. "We're not going to let them hurt you, Wanda. We'll make sure of it."

Wanda nodded, leaning into Peter's embrace. Feeling his slightly warmer body that always made her feel safe. As she cooed and purred in a guttural tone.

…

Later that day…

The transport truck rumbled through the streets, leaving the SHIELD facility and heading towards Washington D.C. The armored vehicle was filled with a tense silence. Logan, Doctor Strange, and Captain America sat across from Peter Red-A2 and his Wanda, who was nestled against Peter's side, her head resting on his shoulder. She had just finished a substantial ham sandwich, supplemented with additional meats and bacon to satisfy her growing cravings. She cooed contentedly before drifting off to sleep, her body relaxing against Peter's warmth.

The SHIELD agents in the truck were armed and in full body armor, but their discomfort with the situation was evident. None of them attempted to restrain Peter or Wanda. They seemed uneasy, casting furtive glances at each other, clearly unsettled by the nature of their mission.

Peter kept a protective arm around Wanda, his eyes never leaving her peaceful face. His mind, however, was racing with worry and anger. He looked up as Captain America began to outline their plan.

"Alright," Cap said, breaking the silence. "We're heading to the SHIELD headquarters in D.C. The facility there is equipped with the best medical technology and the most secure environment. We'll be by your side the entire time, Peter."

Logan, leaning back with his arms crossed, added, "We're not going to let anything happen to Wanda or the baby. You have my word on that."

Doctor Strange nodded, his expression serious. "I've reviewed the procedures they've outlined. It's mostly non-invasive, but I'll be there to ensure they don't overstep any boundaries. If there's anything that looks suspicious or harmful, I'll step in immediately."

Peter nodded, grateful for their support. "I trust you guys. I just... I can't shake this feeling that something's off."

Cap leaned forward, his tone reassuring. "We're going to review every step of the process once more before we get there. We need to make sure that everything is as it should be. We won't let them do anything that could hurt Wanda or the baby."

As they drove through the quiet streets, Cap pulled out a tablet, showing detailed plans of the SHIELD facility and the outlined procedures. They reviewed the steps carefully, discussing each one to ensure there would be no harm done.

"The first phase," Cap said, pointing to the screen, "is a full-body scan to ensure there are no lingering viral contaminants. This is non-invasive and should be over quickly."

Doctor Strange chimed in, "Next, they'll take blood samples. Again, this is standard procedure and should pose no risk to Wanda or the baby."

Logan, his voice a low growl, added, "If they try anything beyond that, they'll have to deal with me."

Peter nodded, his grip tightening on Wanda's hand. "I appreciate it. I don't want to take any chances with her."

The truck continued its journey, the cityscape gradually giving way to the familiar sights of Washington D.C. The tension in the vehicle remained, but there was a shared sense of determination among the group. They were resolved to protect Wanda and the unborn child at all costs.

Wanda stirred slightly, her guttural purr of contentment filling the truck. Peter gently stroked her hair, whispering reassurances. "We're going to be okay, Wanda. We'll get through this my love."

The SHIELD agents remained silent, their unease still evident, but the presence of Logan, Doctor Strange, and Captain America seemed to provide a measure of comfort. They knew that they were not alone in their mission to protect Wanda and her child.

…

The armored transport pulled up to the imposing SHIELD headquarters in Washington D.C., its passengers tense with anticipation. As the truck came to a stop, the heavy doors swung open, and the group disembarked, stepping into the large, pristine facility. Wanda clung to Peter Red-A2's side, her pallor slightly improved but still evident, her eyes wide with as she held onto her love and guardian.

The guards stationed at the entrance stood alert, their faces impassive. Logan and Captain America quickly noticed the tranq guns slung over their shoulders, ready but not actively pointed at anyone. The sight of the weapons put them on edge, though no one attempted to stop them as they made their way inside.

A scientist in a white lab coat approached them, a practiced smile on his face. "Welcome, Director Hill, Captain Rogers, Dr. Strange, Mr. Logan, Mr. Red-A2, and Ms. Maximoff. My name is Dr. Felix Hartman. I'll be overseeing today's procedures." He gestured towards a corridor leading deeper into the facility. "If you'll follow me, we've prepared a comfortable clinic where we'll conduct the tests."

Logan's keen eyes scanned the area, noting every detail. As they walked through the sterile, well-lit halls, he glanced up at the upper platform. One of the SHIELD higher-ups who had proposed the tests, Director Laurence Whitmore, stood there, watching intently. Logan's gut instinct flared—a rare but unmistakable feeling that something was amiss.

Logan nudged Cap, nodding towards the platform. "Keep an eye on him," he muttered under his breath. "Something about the way he's watching us doesn't sit right."

Cap gave a subtle nod, his expression hardening. "Got it. We'll stay alert. "

The group arrived at a spacious clinic outfitted with state-of-the-art medical equipment. Despite the sterile environment, it had been made as comfortable as possible, with plush seating and calming artwork on the walls. Dr. Hartman directed Wanda to a padded chair, gesturing for her to sit.

"Alright, Ms. Maximoff," he said gently, "we're going to start with a full-body scan. It's non-intrusive and will give us a baseline for your current condition. This should only take a few minutes."

Wanda looked up at Peter, who gave her a reassuring nod. She cooed softly, gripping his hand tightly as she settled into the chair.

Logan's eyes flicked back to the upper platform, where Whitmore remained, his gaze unyielding. The feeling in Logan's gut grew stronger, his nerves on high alert. He couldn't shake the sense that something was off, and his instincts were rarely wrong. He resolved to keep a close watch on Whitmore, ready to act if necessary.

As the scanning process began, the room was filled with a soft hum of machinery. Dr. Strange and Cap stood close by, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Logan positioned himself strategically, ensuring he had a clear view of the room and the platform above.

Peter whispered soothing words to Wanda, who remained remarkably calm despite the tension in the room. Her trust in Peter and their friends was evident, and it gave her strength.

Dr. Hartman monitored the scan closely, occasionally glancing at the data appearing on the screen. "Everything looks good so far," he reported. "No immediate signs of viral contamination. We'll proceed to the next phase once this scan is complete."

Logan's eyes never left Whitmore. The higher-up's presence was unsettling, a constant reminder that their situation was precarious. The first test might be non-intrusive, but Logan knew better than to let his guard down.

The scan concluded, and Wanda visibly relaxed, the tension easing from her shoulders. Dr. Hartman smiled reassuringly. "Well done, Ms. Maximoff. We'll move on to the blood tests next, but I assure you, we'll handle everything with the utmost care."

Logan's focus remained sharp, his instincts on high alert. He might not have concrete evidence, but his gut told him that Whitmore and perhaps others had their own agenda. For now, he would watch and wait, ready to protect his friends at a moment's notice.

The next phase of testing proceeded smoothly. Wanda, her grip on Peter's hand remaining strong, was guided to a comfortable chair for the blood draw. Dr. Hartman handled her with care, his demeanor professional and reassuring.

"Just a small prick, Ms. Maximoff," he said gently, preparing the needle. Wanda cooed softly, a sound that Peter recognized as her way of conveying trust and acceptance. She winced slightly as the needle pierced her skin, but remained calm, her eyes fixed on Peter's face.

The blood sample, once drawn, was placed into a vial and taken to a nearby workstation. Dr. Hartman moved with practiced efficiency, setting up the microscope and preparing the slide. The rest of the group watched closely, ensuring that she would be safe.

Logan kept his eyes on the upper platform, where Whitmore continued to observe. The scientist's cold, clinical demeanor did nothing to ease Logan's suspicions. Cap and Dr. Strange stood on either side of Wanda and Peter, their presence a steadying force.

As Dr. Hartman examined the blood sample under the microscope, his brow furrowed in concentration. "This is fascinating," he murmured, adjusting the focus. He called over one of his assistants, who looked through the eyepiece and nodded in agreement.

"What's fascinating?" Logan asked, his tone wary.

Dr. Hartman straightened, turning to address the group. "Wanda's blood… it has a darker red, almost black texture to it. This aligns with her ongoing healing process. But what's truly remarkable is the nature of the virus."

Peter leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What about it?"

Dr. Hartman took a deep breath. "The virus has changed. When we initially examined the data, we expected to find traces of the original zombie virus. Instead, what we're seeing is something entirely different. It's not a virus per se… it's more like an anti-virus."

"Anti-virus?" Cap repeated, frowning.

"Yes," Dr. Hartman confirmed. "It appears that the virus has been transformed. Instead of causing harm, it seems to be working to heal and protect. This anti-virus is actively repairing cells and promoting regeneration."

Peter's eyes widened, a mixture of relief and amazement flooding his features. "So, the serums are working?"

"Yes, very much so," Dr. Hartman nodded. "The serums you've administered to Wanda have not only halted the zombification process but have also triggered a remarkable transformation. Her body is now producing this anti-virus, which is accelerating her recovery."

Wanda purred softly, nuzzling against Peter's shoulder. Her trust in him had been validated, and the evidence was clear: she was healing, thanks to his efforts.

Logan relaxed slightly, though he kept a vigilant eye on the surroundings. Whitmore's presence still nagged at him, but for now, the results were promising. Cap and Dr. Strange exchanged relieved glances, their faith in the process reinforced.

Dr. Hartman continued to study the sample, making notes and preparing for the next steps. "We'll need to conduct further tests to fully understand the implications, but this is a positive development. Wanda's recovery is progressing, and her body's ability to produce this anti-virus could have far-reaching benefits."

As the group absorbed the information, the tension in the room began to ease. Wanda's healing was no longer just a hope—it was a reality, backed by scientific evidence.

Logan's instincts remained sharp, but for the moment, he allowed himself a measure of cautious optimism. They had navigated this part of the process without incident, and Wanda's progress was progressing smoothly.

As the examination progressed, the team moved on to the next critical test: an ultrasound and genetic analysis of the fetus. Wanda was gently guided to a medical bed, where Dr. Hartman and his team set up the necessary equipment. Peter stayed close by her side, holding her hand and offering comforting words.

Wanda's pallor had improved significantly since the start of the examination, and her coos and purrs indicated a sense of security with Peter and the others nearby. Logan, Cap, and Dr. Strange stood watch, their presence a silent assurance of protection.

Dr. Hartman applied the ultrasound gel to Wanda's belly and carefully maneuvered the probe. The screen flickered to life, displaying the first images of the unborn child. A hush fell over the room as the tiny form came into view.

"She's a girl," Dr. Hartman announced, he said smiling. "Healthy heartbeat, good development. Let's take a closer look at her genetic profile."

The advanced scans and projections soon filled the screen with detailed data, mapping out the genetic markers and potential abilities of the fetus. Dr. Hartman's assistant input the data into the system, and within moments, a more comprehensive analysis began to unfold.

"According to these projections," Dr. Hartman began, his eyes widening as he reviewed the results, "she will have powers akin to Wanda's. Reality manipulation, telekinesis, but also… magnetic manipulation similar to Magneto's. It seems to be a secondary mutation."

Peter's grip on Wanda's hand tightened as he leaned in closer. "And her primary mutation?"

Dr. Hartman hesitated, double-checking the readings. "Her primary mutation is tied to the anti-virus coursing through her body. Based on these projections, she won't age after a certain point, achieving a form of biological stasis."

He trailed off as he continued reading the results, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "Can these readings be right…?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment of further analysis, he turned to the group, his expression a mix of astonishment and concern.

"What is it?" Logan demanded, his instincts immediately on high alert.

Dr. Hartman took a deep breath before explaining. "The fetus has the potential to control other infected individuals. Other undead, according to her whims. This isn't just a theoretical possibility—the genetic markers are clear. She could influence and command the infected."

The room fell silent, the weight of this revelation sinking in. Peter Red-A2's eyes were wide with a mix of wonder and worry, his mind racing with the implications of his unborn daughter's abilities. Zombie-Like Wanda, sensing the tension, cooed softly and nuzzled closer to Peter, seeking reassurance.

Cap was the first to break the silence. "What does this mean for her future? For all of us?"

Dr. Hartman adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "It means we need to understand the full extent of her abilities and ensure she can control them. The potential for her to influence the infected could be both a blessing and a curse, depending on how it manifests."

Logan's gaze flicked to the upper platform where Whitmore stood. The higher-up's eyes were fixed on the proceedings, a look of intense focus etched on his face. Logan's gut twisted with unease, but he kept his attention on the immediate concern.

Peter turned to Dr. Hartman. "We'll do whatever it takes to ensure she's safe and can control her powers. But we won't let her be treated like a lab rat. She's our daughter, not an experiment."

Dr. Hartman nodded, his respect for Peter's determination evident. "Understood. We'll proceed with caution and care. The next steps will be crucial in understanding her abilities and ensuring her safety."

It was time for the final test. Dr. Hartman led the group through the facility to a reinforced holding area with a thick, reinforced window. As they approached, he turned to them, his expression serious. "This test is a bit unconventional, but based on my theories about Wanda's abilities, it might be possible."

Peter Red-A2 and the others listened intently, a mix of curiosity and concern on their faces. "What do you have in mind, Doctor?" Peter asked, his voice steady but protective.

Dr. Hartman gestured to the window. "I need you to brace yourselves. SHIELD picked this variant up about a day ago and managed to restrain him before he could infect anyone. We want to see if Wanda, through her connection with her unborn daughter, can pacify or control him. It's a test to see if we can be prepared for any future outbreak."

He turned on the light, illuminating the room beyond the window. Inside was a figure that made Wanda growl slightly, a low, protective sound rumbling from her throat. Captain America's jaw dropped in shock. Inside the room was another him—a zombie-like variant of Captain America, with a skull-like face, exposed bones on his arm and leg, and a scraggly frame covered in green, half-rotten skin. The zombie was restrained with a clamp over his mouth to prevent biting, but he struggled against his restraints, emitting low, guttural growls.

Dr. Hartman continued, "This variant was found in the wilds of Europe, in Germany. SHIELD managed to capture him before he could infect anyone. We want to see if Wanda can use her powers, through her daughter, to control or at least pacify him."

Peter Red-A2 looked at Wanda, his eyes filled with reassurance. He gave her a nod, squeezing her hand. "You can do this, Wanda. We're right here with you."

Wanda nodded, her expression determined. She stepped closer to the window, still holding Peter's hand with one of hers. With her free hand, she raised it toward the zombie Captain America. As she concentrated, she felt a warmth course through her body, emanating from her unborn daughter. The warmth grew stronger, and she felt a gentle kick from within, a signal of support from her child.

Slowly, the zombie Captain America's snarls began to subside. His struggles against the restraints grew weaker, and eventually, he went still. An eerie green light filled his eyes as he stared blankly ahead. The growls ceased entirely, replaced by a quiet, almost peaceful stillness.

Dr. Hartman observed the scene with a mix of amazement and relief. "Incredible. She's done it. She's pacified him."

Logan, Cap, and Dr. Strange watched in awe, their respect for Wanda growing even deeper. Wanda lowered her hand, the green light in the zombie's eyes fading. She turned to Peter, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Peter embraced her, his voice filled with pride. "You did it, Wanda. You and our daughter."

The group shared a moment of quiet triumph. The test had been a success, proving not only Wanda's incredible abilities but also the potential of their unborn child. They had demonstrated a powerful new tool in their fight against any future zombie outbreak.

Dr. Hartman nodded, satisfied. "This is a significant breakthrough. We need to ensure these abilities are understood and developed safely. But for now, let's get you both some rest."

As they left the holding area, Logan couldn't shake the feeling of unease he had experienced earlier. He kept a close eye on the upper platform where Whitmore had been watching. The higher-up's intense stare had not gone unnoticed, and Logan's instincts told him that he was thinking something that gave his instincts a chill.

…

As they began to leave the facility for the evening, Peter Red-A2, Wanda, Logan, Cap, and Dr. Strange were met by the two higher-ups, Directors Whitmore and Shaw. Both were wearing practiced, congratulatory smiles.

"Congratulations on a successful series of tests," Director Whitmore said smoothly, his eyes fixed on Wanda. "Your cooperation has been invaluable in furthering our understanding."

Director Shaw nodded in agreement. "Yes, . You've made a significant contribution to our research. We appreciate your willingness to participate."

Logan, standing slightly behind the group, suddenly felt a familiar, unsettling sensation. He narrowed his eyes, instinctively sniffing the air. There was something off about their scents. As Whitmore continued speaking, Logan's unease grew. The scent wasn't Osborn himself, but rather, it was the distinct, twisted odor of the Goblin persona that had once consumed Osborn.

Whitmore's voice droned on, but Logan's mind was racing. What the heck is going on here? He thought. He couldn't show any hesitation; he needed to keep his composure.

"Thank you for your support," Cap replied, his tone diplomatic. "We're glad we could contribute to the safety and security of our world."

Whitmore nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to Logan, who maintained his stoic expression. "We'll be in touch if further assistance is needed. For now, get some rest. You've earned it."

As they turned to leave, Logan's senses remained on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He needed to inform his companions of this development, but it wasn't safe here. There were too many eyes and ears around them.

As they walked back to the armored vehicle, Logan moved closer to Cap and Dr. Strange. Without breaking stride, he muttered under his breath, "We need to talk. Not here. Too many ears. Later."

Cap and Dr. Strange exchanged brief, knowing glances, understanding the gravity of Logan's words. They nodded subtly, acknowledging the need for discretion.

…

Back at Avengers Tower, Logan ensured they were in the private lounging area, gathering Tony Stark, Spider-Man, who was checking into the tower, Gold Goblin, now Norman Osborn free of the goblin persona for good, and a few others, including Agent Hill. He looked at each of them, ensuring their conversation remained private.

Logan's voice was low but urgent. "I smelled something about those two higher-ups... Whitmore and Shaw. They have this scent that reminded me of the Green Goblin. It bore the lingering traces of the goblin formula. It nearly made my eyes water at how potent it was, like they had recently been infected with the same formula that made the Goblin."

Everyone paled at that revelation. Tony's expression turned serious as he processed the information. "If they're infected, there could be more. We need to run a full investigation to learn how this happened."

While they were discussing this, Zombie-Like Wanda suddenly growled and clutched Peter tighter, her eyes fixed out the window. Everyone turned to see something red, hooded, and jagged heading towards Avengers Tower on a glider similar to the one Norman Osborn once used. The tower's defenses activated, knocking one missile out of the air, but a second one hit its mark, causing a small explosion.

A cackling laughter filled the air, sending chills down their spines. As the dust settled, a voice echoed through the room, freezing everyone in place.

"SO! THIS IS THE ZOMBIFIED VERSION OF ME THAT I'VE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT?! I'M UTTERLY DISAPPOINTED!"

Hovering into their space was a red-armored and cloaked figure on a glider, the familiar visor on her face complete with horns. The goblin visor was blood red, and her glider let out magical exhaust as she hovered slightly closer. The figure was a twisted version of Wanda Maximoff, merged with the Goblin persona.

Logan's instincts screamed danger as he positioned himself protectively in front of the group. Peter Red-A2's expression hardened, his protective stance mirroring Logan's.

Cap's voice was steady but firm. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

The Red Goblin Wanda tilted her head, her smile visible through the visor. "Oh, I'm just here to see what makes this zombified version of me so special. But seeing her here, weak and dependent... it's utterly disappointing."

Goblin-Wanda didn't waste any time. She caught a green pumpkin bomb that popped out of her glider. Logan's eyes widened as he instantly recognized the scent of the goblin formula. Without hesitation, he grabbed Laura and Daken, shouting, "EVERYONE MOVE NOW!"

Most managed to dodge the explosive bomb just in time, but Peter Red-A2 wasn't as lucky. The bomb exploded into green gas right in his face, making him cough violently before seizing up and convulsing. Additional normal bombs followed, blowing out the windows, and in the ensuing chaos, Goblin Wanda used the opportunity to escape.

As the dust cleared and she flew around a building, Peter Red-A2 continued to convulse on the ground. Zombie-like Wanda let out a guttural cry, her eyes glowing with chaos magic as she desperately tried to stabilize him. She placed her hands on his chest, attempting to use her magic to remove the goblin formula taking root inside him.

Peter's body jerked and convulsed, his eyes flickering with an unnatural green glow. The goblin formula was spreading rapidly, and Wanda's magic fought to counteract it. Her guttural growls and cries echoed through the room as she poured all her energy into saving him.

Logan, recovering from the blast, looked on with a mix of horror and determination. "We need to help them!" he shouted, his voice carrying urgency.

Cap and Dr. Strange quickly moved to assist. Strange's hands glowed with mystical energy as he joined Wanda, weaving a spell to aid in an attempt to purging the goblin formula before it could take hold. Cap provided cover, ensuring no further attacks could reach them.

"Hold on, Peter," this world's Wanda said as she also worked on stabilizing him, her voice strained with effort. "You're not going to lose to this. Not after everything you and your Wanda have been through."

…

The tech experts combed through the data. They discovered two other types of bombs encoded in the circuits. One type could slow down a person's time, freezing them after the third hit. The blue ones, of which there were only three, could erase someone from time entirely, as if they had never been born, while keeping the timeline intact.

The room fell silent as they digested the implications. Hill turned to Fury, her expression grave. "We need to act fast. If those bombs get into the wrong hands..."

Fury nodded. "We'll stop this. We have to. Prepare the team. We're going to D.C. and we're bringing Mystra back here to help with Peter and anyone else affected."

Logan's eyes narrowed with determination. "And we need to find Goblin-Wanda. She's not getting away with this."

The tech experts meticulously combed through the data from the bomb remnants. Each piece of circuitry was analyzed, revealing more than they had anticipated. Hidden within the circuits, they discovered blueprints for two additional types of bombs. The first type had a sinister function: it could slow down a person's time, progressively freezing them in place after three hits. This would immobilize the target, leaving them vulnerable to further attacks or capture. The second type was even more alarming: blue bombs that, when all three detonated, could erase a person from time entirely. It was as if the individual had never been born, yet the timeline would remain intact, a terrifying erasure that left no trace.

The room fell silent as the Implic"tion' of these findings sunk in. Hill turned to Fury, her expression grave. "We need to act fast. If those bombs get into the wrong hands..."

Fury nodded, his jaw set with resolve. "We'll stop this. We have to. Prepare the team. We're going to D.C. and we're bringing Mystra back here to help with Peter and anyone else affected."

Logan's eyes narrowed with determination. "And we need to find Goblin-Wanda. She's not getting away with this."

Hill continued, "These bombs—especially the blue ones—are a direct threat to our existence. The idea that someone could be erased from time itself... it's unthinkable. We can't let that happen."

Fury nodded. "Agreed. And those time-freezing bombs could be used to immobilize key individuals during an attack, making them just as dangerous. We need to ensure every last one of these devices is accounted for and neutralized."

Logan clenched his fists, the severity of the situation not lost on him. "And the fact that this tech has Wanda-Corp logos means Goblin-Wanda has the resources to produce more. We have to cut off her supply chain and find out if there are others working with her."

"We'll need to coordinate with all our contacts," Fury said, his mind already racing through potential allies and strategies. "This isn't just about stopping her. We need to root out any other threats tied to these bombs and the goblin formula."

Cap added, "We should also consider the possibility that these bombs were planted as a distraction. Goblin-Wanda may have other plans in motion while we're occupied with this."

Fury nodded, appreciating Cap's insight. "Good point. We'll divide our efforts. One team focuses on tracking down Goblin-Wanda and dismantling her operations. Another team deals with the higher-ups in D.C. and ensures they're contained."

Logan glanced at the others. "And we need to ensure Peter Red-A2's safety. He's a target now, especially with the progress he and Wanda have made. Goblin-Wanda's attack was meant to destabilize us. We can't let her succeed."

"Agreed," Hill said, determination etched on her face. "We'll protect Peter and Wanda no matter what."

With their plan in place, Fury began issuing orders. "Hill, start organizing the teams. We'll need our best people on this. Logan, keep a close watch on Peter and Wanda. Ensure Mystra arrives safely and can begin working on purging the goblin formula from Peter. I'm headed to D.C." before he signaled agent Hill to make some calls on some encrypted channels.

They've got a lot on their plate to deal with…

…

Sometime later…

A portal shimmered into existence, and from it stepped Mystra, an ethereal, magic-based symbiote. His form glowed with a serene blue and white light, giving off an aura of calm and power. Dr. Strange led him into the room where Peter Red-A2 lay, his Wanda by his side.

Mystra moved gracefully to Peter's side, his tendrils floating around him like gentle waves. He placed a hand on Peter's chest, his touch light but strong. The room fell silent as Mystra began whispering ancient magical incantations, his tendrils sinking into Peter's body. The glow from Mystra intensified, casting an otherworldly light over the room.

For three minutes, Mystra chanted continuously, his focus unwavering, everyone watching intently. Finally, Mystra retracted his tendrils and stepped back, the light around him dimming slightly.

Peter Red-A2 stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at Wanda, who cooed lovingly, and he sat up, pulling her into a tight embrace. Relief washed over the room as the couple held each other close.

Mystra, his voice calm and reassuring, said, "The goblin has been removed and is now part of my collective. You won't have to worry about him taking hold in Peter again."

Logan, Tigra, Dazzler, and Pixie all exchanged relieved glances. Grizz, Savage-Lands Peter, Lycan, and Jarek Parker Creed, standing just outside, allowed themselves a moment of relief, knowing their readiness had not been in vain.

…

Elsewhere in D.C.

The armored convoy rolled into Washington D.C., its occupants tense and alert. Nick Fury, Agent Hill, and Peter-Knull led the group, with Daken, Jubilee, Spider-Woman, and Norman Osborn, also known as Gold Goblin, forming the rear guard. A contingent of SHIELD guards flanked them, their presence imposing and necessary given the gravity of the situation.

As they approached the SHIELD headquarters, the air grew thick with anticipation. Fury and Hill exchanged a glance, their unspoken communication clear: this was a delicate operation.

At the entrance to the headquarters, the group encountered the first line of security. The guards, equipped with advanced weaponry and scanners, eyed the newcomers warily. Fury stepped forward, his authoritative presence demanding attention.

"We need to speak with the council," Fury said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The lead guard hesitated, his hand resting on his weapon. "I'm sorry, Director Fury, but we'll need to verify—"

Fury's patience was wearing thin. "You know who I am. And you know why I'm here. Let us through, or we'll make our own way."

The guard glanced at his colleagues, uncertainty etched on his face. Before the situation could escalate further, a voice crackled through their communication devices. "Let them in. Director Fury is expected."

The group was escorted through the labyrinthine corridors of the headquarters, finally reaching the council chamber. Inside, one of the higher-ups, Director Matthews, was in a meeting with several senators. He was informed of the commotion outside and decided to investigate.

As Matthews approached, he recognized Fury and Hill immediately. "Director Fury, Agent Hill. This is unexpected. What's going on?"

Fury didn't mince words. He stepped closer to Matthews, lowering his voice. "We need to talk. Privately."

Matthews nodded, sensing the urgency. He led them to a secure conference room. Once inside, Fury shut the door behind them, ensuring their conversation remained confidential.

"What's this about, Fury?" Matthews asked, concern evident in his voice.

Fury leaned in, his expression grave. "It's about Directors Whitmore and Shaw. They've been compromised."

Matthews' eyes widened. "Compromised? How?"

Fury whispered, his voice barely audible. "The Goblin formula. We have reason to believe another Goblin variant from an alternate universe known as Goblin-Wanda has gotten to them."

Matthews paled, the weight of the accusation settling heavily on his shoulders. "Are you certain?"

Fury nodded. "Positive. We've detected traces of the formula in their systems. It's potent, and it's already affecting their behavior."

Matthews took a deep breath, his mind racing. "We need to handle this delicately. If the council finds out, it could cause a panic."

"We don't have time for delicacy," Fury countered. "We need to contain this before it spreads further."

Matthews nodded, his resolve hardening. "Alright I've known you long enough to know when your serious. I'll gather the council. You present your evidence. We'll take it from there."

…

A short while later, the council members gathered in the secure chamber. Everyone was on edge when they entered the room. Fury, Hill, and Peter-Knull stood before them. Matthews introduced Fury, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.

Fury stepped forward, his gaze steady. "Directors Whitmore and Shaw have been compromised by the Goblin formula. We have evidence indicating they've been exposed and are under its influence."

The council members exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a stern-looking woman, spoke up. "These are serious accusations, Director Fury. Do you have proof?"

Peter-Knull stepped forward, his presence commanding as he spoke. "We've detected the formula's signature in their systems. It's the same variant that transformed Norman Osborn into the Green Goblin. We believe another Goblin variant who's from another universe is behind this."

The council murmured among themselves, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they too have noticed unusual behavior in Whitmore and Shaw in recent days, but they never suspected something like this. Matthews raised a hand, silencing them. "We need to take immediate action. We can't allow this goblin influence to go unchallenged."

Fury nodded. "Agreed. We need to isolate Whitmore and Shaw, and we need to track down this Goblin-Wanda variant before she causes more damage. We'll need full cooperation from the council to manage this discreetly."

Matthews looked around the room, his expression was serious. "You have our support, Director Fury. We'll back your play. But we need to ensure that this is contained quickly and efficiently."

…

Elsewhere with Team-3 at the docks…

Team Three, composed of Peter Blue-A1, Nightcrawler, Pixie, Mystique, and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant, had called in Deadpool for this mission due to the significant danger posed by the Goblin-Wanda variant. Equipped with breathers to protect against any potential goblin gas attacks, they tracked her operation to the docks.

Moving stealthily, they maneuvered through the dimly lit area, using the crates and containers for cover. As they approached, Deadpool whispered to his allies, his tone incredulous. "Is that a Loki who has the same insignia as the Phoenix?"

Peering through a gap between two containers, they observed a Loki variant, unmistakably adorned with the Phoenix insignia, deep in conversation with Goblin-Wanda.

"We need just five more of the green ones to poison the water supply," the Loki variant said, his voice filled with urgency.

Goblin-Wanda looked skeptical, her arms crossed defensively. "How many bombs do you need? You've already received an arsenal."

Loki waved a hand dismissively. "Those were for the initial phase. This next phase is crucial. The water supply will ensure widespread chaos."

Goblin-Wanda hesitated, clearly weighing her options. "These bombs are in high demand. I can't just hand them out like candy."

Loki's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "Do you want this alliance to succeed or not? The Phoenix force is counting on this. Five more bombs, and I'll ensure the Phoenix aids you in your next attack."

Goblin-Wanda considered his words, her eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and contemplation. "Fine. But this better be worth it."

…

Deadpool glanced at his team, "Time to crash this party. Everyone ready?"

Peter Blue-A1 nodded, signaling for Nightcrawler and Pixie to get into position. Mystique shifted into her combat form, her eyes glinting with determination. The Nightcrawler/Blade variant readied his weapons, his gaze fixed on the targets.

Deadpool checked his gear, a grin spreading across his face beneath the mask. "Let's give them a show they won't forget."

As Goblin-Wanda handed over a small crate of green bombs to Loki, Peter Blue-A1 gave the signal. Nightcrawler teleported into the fray, his swords drawn, while Pixie cast an illusion to disorient the enemies. Mystique and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant attacked from the flanks, their movements swift and precise.

Deadpool, true to form, charged in with guns blazing, his laughter echoing across the docks. "Surprise, goblins and gods!"

Goblin-Wanda reacted swiftly, summoning her glider and taking to the air. She fired a barrage of missiles, forcing the team to scatter. One missile hit a stack of crates, sending splinters and debris flying in all directions.

In the midst of the chaos, Goblin-Wanda targeted Deadpool. With a wicked grin, she maneuvered her glider directly at him, impaling him through the chest. Deadpool coughed up blood as he raised an eyebrow and looked downwards then he grinned back at her. "You know, that kinda tickles."

Goblin-Wanda didn't waste time, throwing a cluster of red bombs at Pixie. The bombs detonated, creating a temporal distortion field around her. Pixie's movements slowed to a crawl, her limbs moving in agonizingly slow motion as she struggled to turn and face the threat.

"Well, this is awkward," Deadpool quipped, still impaled, as he watched Pixie struggle. "Hey, can I get a few of those time bombs for myself?" he called out to Goblin-Wanda, who was too busy launching more attacks to respond.

Phoenix-Loki, meanwhile, tried to make a break for it, clutching the crate of green bombs. Peter Blue-A1 intercepted him, webbing the crate and yanking it out of Loki's grasp. "Going somewhere, trickster?"

Nightcrawler, seeing Pixie's plight, teleported to her side. "Hold on, Pixie. We'll get you out of this." He began to focus on disrupting the temporal field, using his teleportation abilities to create a counter-effect.

Mystique and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant kept the other enemies at bay, their attacks precise and unrelenting. The dock workers and henchmen, now thoroughly disoriented by Pixie's initial illusion, fell one by one.

Goblin-Wanda, still standing on her glider that was impaled through Deadpool, threw a few normal pumpkin bombs. This time, they targeted Mystique and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant. Mystique ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the explosion, while the Nightcrawler/Blade variant deflected the missiles with his blade.

As the chaos raged on, Deadpool, still impaled, managed to pull himself off the glider's blade as Goblin-Wanda pulled it out. He dropped to the ground, grinning despite the gaping wound in his chest. "You can't keep a good merc down."

He then pulled out and threw a grenade at Goblin-Wanda, forcing her to retreat momentarily before the resulting explosion happened. "And that's how we play hot potato, kids!"

Nightcrawler successfully disrupted the temporal field around Pixie, allowing her to move at normal speed again. She gave him a grateful nod, her wings fluttering with renewed energy. "Thanks, Kurt."

Peter Blue-A1 webbed up Phoenix-Loki, securing him to a nearby post. "Looks like you're not going anywhere, Phoenix-Loki."

Goblin-Wanda, seeing her plans unraveling, let out a furious scream. "This isn't over yet!" She pulled out something that made their blood run cold—the three blue bombs that have been rumored to be different than the other ones. If anyone got hit by those three, they would be erased from existence, like they had never been born while the timeline remained in-tact.

Deadpool, eyes widening in realization and realizing it's time to get serious, quickly took aim with one of his guns. "Not today, Ms. Horn-head," he muttered, firing a shot that hit one of the engines on her glider. The glider sputtered and veered off course, crashing into the ground with a sickening splat. Goblin-Wanda hit the ground hard, and the blue bombs slipped from her grasp, clattering into a nearby crate.

Everyone held their breath as the bombs activated. The crate shimmered, then disappeared into a pocket of nothingness. Above the void, eerie words hovered: Verdict... Erased from existence. A creepy whispering chorus repeated the words as the air pocket popped, and air rushed back into the space.

Goblin-Wanda's eyes widened in horror. "NOOOOOO! YOU LITTLE SHITS! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" She stumbled to her feet, smashing through one of the empty crates as she pulled herself up, seething with rage. "THAT'S IT! THERE'S NO MORE OF THOSE ELEMENTS IN THE MULTIVERSE! IT TOOK ME AGES TO MAKE THOSE BOMBS AND YOU'VE RUINED IT!"

Her fury radiated off her in waves, the air crackling with her rage. Peter Blue-A1 and the rest of the team braced themselves, knowing they had to be ready for whatever she threw at them next.

Nightcrawler teleported next to Pixie, ready to whisk her out of harm's way if needed. "We've really pissed her off now," he said, his voice tense.

Pixie nodded, her wings twitching with readiness. "Better than being erased from existence, though."

Mystique and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant positioned themselves strategically, ready for the next onslaught.

Deadpool, still recovering from his earlier impalement, grinned wickedly. "Hey, lady, maybe you should invest in better bomb security next time!"

Goblin-Wanda let out an inhuman scream and launched herself at the team, her movements erratic and fueled by sheer rage. She conjured a wave of green fire, hurling it towards them.

Peter Blue-A1 dodged the flames, webbing up a defensive barrier. "We've got to keep her contained! We can't let her escape again!"

Goblin-Wanda tore through the webbing with a sudden violent motion, her eyes blazing with fury. She grabbed Peter Blue-A1 and tossed him like a ragdoll into Mystique and the Nightcrawler/Blade variant, sending them sprawling. Without missing a beat, she spun around and charged at Deadpool.

Deadpool barely had time to react before Goblin-Wanda delivered a haymaker that made his jaw go, "CRACK!" as it dislodged. He staggered back, trying to make another quip which he somehow managed to do even though his jaw was dislodged. "You know, for a goblin, you've got quite the—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Goblin-Wanda screamed, her voice echoing with pure malice. She kicked Deadpool in the groin, making him yelp in pain. Before he could recover, she grabbed him by the back and slammed him into several crates. The force of the impact caused the crates to shatter, splinters flying everywhere.

She headbutted Deadpool, causing him to see stars. His vision blurred, and he struggled to stay conscious. Goblin-Wanda's rage was now fully directed at him, and she showed no signs of letting up. She yanked him up by his costume and threw him across the dock, his body skidding along the ground.

"Why won't you just die?!" she snarled, her hands crackling with chaotic energy. She blasted Deadpool with green fire, scorching his suit and burning his flesh. Despite the agony, Deadpool managed to pull himself up, his healing factor working overtime to mend his injuries.

"Can't kill me that easily, sweetheart," he wheezed, grinning through the dislodged jaw.

Goblin-Wanda's eyes flared with even more rage. She lunged at him, her fists a blur as she pummeled him relentlessly. Each punch was like a hammer, and Deadpool's body absorbed the brutal impacts. She grabbed his arm and twisted it until there was a sickening snap then pulled the whole thing off, then used his own arm to smack him across the face.

Deadpool's vision darkened, but he refused to go down. "You know, you hit like a girl," he gasped, blood dripping from his mouth and dislodged jaw as he continued to grin.

Goblin-Wanda's face twisted in fury. She conjured a cluster of bombs and threw them at Deadpool's feet. The bombs exploded, releasing a cloud of noxious gas. Deadpool's movements slowed to a crawl as the gas took effect, his body struggling to respond.

"Let's see you joke your way out of this," she hissed, watching with satisfaction as Deadpool's movements became sluggish.

She grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground actually crushing the bone in his windpipe when he tried making another joke, her grip tightening. Deadpool managed to cough through his destroyed throat though, "Goblin got my tongue…."

Goblin-Wanda slammed him into the ground, then stomped on his chest, cracking his ribs. She leaned in close, her eyes glowing with malice.

"You're nothing but a nuisance," she spat, raising her fist to deliver another crushing blow.

Just then, Nightcrawler teleported behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her away from Deadpool. "Get off him!" he shouted, using his teleportation abilities to disorient her.

Goblin-Wanda screamed in rage, trying to shake Nightcrawler off. Pixie swooped in, using her magic dust to confuse and distract Goblin-Wanda. Mystique also dogpiled on top of her, tackling Goblin-Wanda to the ground.

"You're not getting away this time," Mystique growled, holding her down.

Peter Blue-A1 regained his footing and joined the fray, webbing Goblin-Wanda's limbs to the ground. The Nightcrawler/Blade variant positioned himself to strike if she broke free. Goblin-Wanda thrashed and screamed, her rage blinding her to reason.

Deadpool, finally catching his breath, staggered to his feet. "Thanks for the save, guys," he muttered, his body still healing from the onslaught.

Goblin-Wanda's fury knew no bounds as she struggled against her restraints. "I'll kill all of you!" she screamed, her voice raw with rage.

"We need to subdue her now!" Peter Blue-A1 shouted, reinforcing the webbing around her.

Deadpool, reaching up to snap his jaw back into place with a gruesome "SNAP!", looked at Pixie. "Hey, Pixie? Can you put her to sleep or something until SHIELD shows up here?"

Pixie nodded, her wings fluttering as she approached Goblin-Wanda cautiously. She sprinkled her magic dust over Goblin-Wanda, who thrashed and screamed even more violently as the dust settled around her.

"No! I won't be subdued by your pathetic tricks!" Goblin-Wanda roared, trying to shake off the effects of the dust.

Pixie concentrated, seeing that Goblin-Wanda was starting to get tired. "Just sleep, Goblin-Wanda. Let the rage fade."

Goblin-Wanda's struggles began to slow, her eyelids drooping as the dust took effect. Her screams turned to growls, then to incoherent mumbles, and finally, she slumped against the ground, unconscious.

Peter Blue-A1 sighed in relief, reinforcing the webbing one last time to ensure she wouldn't break free when she woke up. "Good job, Pixie. Now let's keep her secured until SHIELD arrives."

The team gathered around Goblin-Wanda, their breaths heavy from the intense battle. Deadpool grinned having fully healed. "Well, that was fun. We should do this again sometime."

Nightcrawler chuckled, shaking his head. "I think once was more than enough."

Mystique shifted a little bit, catching her breath after all that, her eyes still wary as she looked at the unconscious Goblin-Wanda. "This wont be over till she's in SHIELD custody, until they show up let's make sure there's no other blue bombs around here, just in case…"

Peter Blue-A1 nodded. "Agreed. Let's get her transported safely and make sure she stays out of trouble. We've got a lot of crates to go through."

…

Back in D.C.

The atmosphere outside the research facility was thick with tension as Nick Fury, Agent Hill, and Peter-Knull led the group toward the entrance. The facility loomed before them, its cold, sterile appearance doing nothing to ease the anxiety brewing among them. The SHIELD agents stationed at the entrance, however, were what truly set everyone on edge. They stood unnaturally rigid, their eyes shadowed with a kind of blank intensity that Peter-Knull recognized immediately—a telltale sign of indoctrination or brainwashing. The same guards had been present during the examination of the Zombie-Like Wanda, making this situation even more dangerous.

As the group approached, the lead SHIELD agent stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Identification, please. We need to ensure all protocols are followed."

Fury, ever the seasoned leader, stepped forward, maintaining his calm but authoritative demeanor. "We're here on urgent business, and you know damn well who I am. There shouldn't be any need for formalities."

The agent didn't budge. "Identification, Director Fury. Protocols must be adhered to."

Agent Hill exchanged a glance with Peter-Knull, who was rubbing his face with his hands, clearly frustrated. The tension was at it's limit as the rest of the team—Daken, Jubilee, Spider-Woman, and Norman Osborn aka Gold Goblin—watched the exchange carefully. Everyone could sense that something was off.

Peter-Knull, his patience wearing thin, stepped forward. His eyes narrowed as he observed the guards more closely. Their blank stares, their mechanical responses, everything about them screamed indoctrination. He had seen this before in other worlds, and it never ended well.

"You know what? Fine! You win!" Peter-Knull said, his voice carrying both frustration and a tinge of mocking resignation. He reached into his coat and pulled out his identification card, holding it out toward the agent. "Here, take the damn card!"

Fury and Hill, sensing that something might escalate, quickly followed suit, presenting their identifications. The others did the same, albeit reluctantly. The lead agent took the cards, scanning each one meticulously, the process taking longer than it should.

The air grew colder as they waited, the tension increasing with every passing second. Peter-Knull's gaze never left the agents, his senses heightened. He knew that if these guards were truly brainwashed, a sudden move or even a misinterpreted glance could trigger something far more dangerous.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the agent handed the cards back with a stiff nod. "You may proceed. But be aware, the situation inside is... sensitive."

Peter-Knull gave a thin smile as he took back his card, his eyes still scrutinizing the agents. "Sensitive, huh? That's one way to put it."

Fury motioned for the team to move forward, but as they passed the guards, Peter-Knull leaned in closer to Fury and whispered, "Keep an eye on them. They're not just following orders—they're programmed."

Fury's eyes flickered with understanding. "I figured as much. Let's be quick about this."

As Nick Fury and his team entered the facility, accompanied by the SHIELD agents in tow, more agents were presenting their identification cards outside, ensuring that protocol was strictly followed. , every step forward filled with an underlying sense of danger.

Inside the facility, the atmosphere was sterile and cold. The team moved quickly, guided by Dr. Hartman, who met them in the hallway. His expression was tight with worry as he whispered urgently to Fury. "I heard about what happened at the front gate. My superiors... they aren't acting like themselves. It's as if something's taken hold of them."

Fury exchanged a glance with Peter-Knull, who nodded grimly. They pressed on, heading toward the labs where they were informed the two higher-ups were located. The tension only grew as they approached the security checkpoint. The system required them to scan their cards again, and Dr. Hartman's card didn't register without his personal identification code.

"That's not right," Hartman muttered, his fingers trembling slightly as he inputted the code manually. The system AI finally allowed them entry, but the unease in the pit of his stomach didn't lessen.

As the doors slid open, they stepped into the lab, and what they found inside was shocking.

Black and red viscous blood samples were arrayed across the lab, each one meticulously marked with different numbers and letters, all connected to a central system of equipment. At the very center was a vial of blood labeled "Zombie-Wanda." Tubes snaked out from this central vial, leading to the various other samples, each linked to a different experiment. The entire setup was a grim testament to the experiments that had been conducted here.

In the middle of the room, seated lifelessly in their chairs, were the two higher-ups, Directors Whitmore and Shaw. Their faces were pale, their bodies unmoving. Fury approached cautiously, while Peter-Knull extended his symbiotic appendages toward them, fusing them with the bodies to examine the situation more closely.

After a tense moment, Peter-Knull retracted his tendrils, his expression grim. "They suffered heart failure, likely due to underlying health issues. But that's not all. Their last memories… it was like a battle inside their minds. The Goblin formula, or whatever variant of it this was, had a half-life. It started degrading their health as it took over, but they fought against it."

Nick Fury scanned the room, his sharp eye picking up on scattered papers and the erratic writings on the monitors. The notes were a chaotic mix of clinical observations and desperate pleas. Some pages bore the words "Forgive us! PLEASE FORGIVE US!" scrawled in frantic handwriting. The clinical notes that were readable described experiments aimed at creating super-soldiers enhanced with regenerative properties and the ability to control the undead. The idea was horrifying, and it was clear that none of the experiments had succeeded. Most subjects either reanimated into uncontrollable undead or died outright, unable to withstand the strain.

Peter-Knull sifted through the papers, noticing the erratic shifts in handwriting, as if two minds had been fighting for control of the same body. "It's like they were aware of what was happening, but they couldn't stop it," he said quietly. "There are notes here where they question their own actions, asking, 'What am I doing? This isn't me! We need to stop this madness!'"

On the monitors, recorded audio played, capturing the final moments of the two directors' lives. Their voices were a mix of clinical detachment and panicked desperation. In one recording, Shaw's voice, filled with anguish, could be heard saying, "This isn't right. We have to find a way out." In another, Whitmore's voice, trembling with fear, whispered, "We're dying… We have to stop it before it's too late."

Nick Fury's face hardened as he listened, his mind piecing together the tragic puzzle. "They knew they were dying. They knew they were compromised, but they couldn't stop it. They let this happen because they were hoping we could stop them."

Norman Osborn, examining the remains of the experiments, shook his head, his voice heavy with sorrow. "They let themselves die to expose this, to give us a chance to put an end to it. They knew what was happening, and they sacrificed themselves to save others."

The team fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The two directors had been victims of a monstrous scheme, and in their final moments, they had fought to regain control, leaving behind clues in the hopes that someone would stop the madness.

…

A few hours later, the SHIELD facility was in full lockdown. The discovery of the compromised directors and the horrifying experiments had sent shockwaves through the entire organization. The once-busy halls were now eerily silent, filled only with the murmurs of agents coordinating the containment and cleanup efforts.

Nick Fury stood at the center of the operations, his face a mask of stoic determination. Around him, SHIELD agents worked tirelessly to secure the facility and catalog the evidence. The gravity of what they had uncovered weighed heavily on everyone. The implications were far-reaching, not just for SHIELD but for the safety of the world.

Peter-Knull, Norman Osborn, and Agent Hill were close by, each contributing to the cleanup in their own way. Peter-Knull was still processing the dark memories he had absorbed from the deceased directors, his usual confident demeanor subdued by the tragic reality of what they had witnessed. Norman, once a victim of the Goblin formula himself, felt a deep sense of sorrow and responsibility as he examined the remains of the experiments, realizing just how close SHIELD had come to a catastrophic outcome.

The news of the directors' deaths and the sinister plot that had been uncovered spread quickly among the SHIELD leadership. The realization that two of their own had been overtaken by such malevolent forces and sacrificed themselves to expose the truth shook the organization to its core. Whispered conversations filled the air as agents tried to come to terms with the horror of what had been hidden within their ranks.

Director Matthews, a man who had known Fury for years, arrived on the scene. His usually composed demeanor was visibly shaken as he absorbed the information. He moved with purpose, helping to coordinate the response to this tragedy, ensuring that every piece of evidence was secured and every agent was accounted for.

As the immediate crisis was being managed, Matthews approached Fury, who had just finished a call with one of the senior SHIELD leaders. Matthews placed a hand on Fury's shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie. "Nick," he began, his voice low and steady, "this is a hell of a mess. But you handled it. We found those blood samples in time, and we stopped whatever nightmare they were planning."

Fury gave a small nod, his gaze distant. "We dodged a bullet, but it doesn't feel like a win."

Matthews sighed, understanding the weight that Fury carried. "I know it doesn't. But you and your team did what had to be done. You uncovered the truth, and now we can start rebuilding from this. But listen, Nick... you need to take a break once in a while. Even the strongest among us need to step back and find some comfort. This kind of shake-up can wear down even the most iron-willed."

Fury grunted, not fully committing to the idea but appreciating the sentiment. "I'll rest when the job is done."

"Nick," Matthews pressed gently, "the job's never done. That's why you have a team. Lean on them. Take a moment for yourself when you can. If we're going to keep SHIELD together after this, we need you at your best."

Fury glanced over at the people he trusted—Peter-Knull, Hill, Osborn, and the other agents who had been with him through thick and thin. He knew Matthews was right, even if he was reluctant to admit it. "I'll think about it," he finally said, his tone softer than usual.

Matthews gave a slight nod, satisfied for the moment. "Good. Now, let's make sure we finish this clean-up and start getting some answers. We owe it to Whitmore and Shaw to see this through."

As they continued their grim work, the sense of loss and betrayal hung in the air like a heavy fog. SHIELD had taken a blow, but they had also been given a chance to prevent further disaster.

…

Elsewhere, The Raft…

At the Raft, the notorious underwater prison designed to hold some of the world's most dangerous criminals. In a dimly lit cell, a Logan variant, once known for his ferocity and rage, now sat in silence, lost in his thoughts. This Logan had been cloned by his world's Sinister, and after confronting his mother's ghost—a confrontation that ended with her renouncing him as her son—something within him had irrevocably changed. The fight, the rage, had drained from him, leaving behind a man who had resigned himself to the cage he had constructed around his soul.

Jean Grey and Scott Summers from this world stood outside his cell, watching him with a mix of caution and compassion. Jean spoke first, her voice soft and filled with compassion that this Logan didn't know if he deserved.

Logan, Peter-Knull and Madelyn have talked it over, and they've decided to give you a second chance. If you're willing to do community service, you'll be allowed to return to society. We know you've been through a lot, and they recognize that you've suffered enough."

Logan remained silent, his eyes distant as he processed the offer.

Scott continued, "You don't have to decide right now. You can take the night to think about it. We'll finalize the paperwork in the morning if that's what you want."

Logan finally looked up, meeting their gazes with a calmness that had settled over him in the wake of his internal storm. "I appreciate the offer," he said, his voice devoid of its usual gruffness. "But I need some time. I'll think about it."

Jean nodded understandingly. "Take all the time you need, Logan. We'll be here in the morning."

As they turned to leave, Logan leaned back against the cold wall of his cell, the silence of the Raft pressing down on him. He knew he had done terrible things—things he had chosen to do even when manipulated by Sinister. The weight of his actions hung heavy on his shoulders, and he couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps he didn't deserve this chance at redemption. But there was a part of him, buried deep, that yearned for it—a part of him that still remembered what it was like to be James Howlett, the innocent boy before the rage had consumed him.

As the hours passed, Logan sat in contemplation, his mind turning over the decision before him. He wasn't the same man who had been consumed by anger and vengeance. He was different now, changed by the ghosts of his past and the actions that had led him here. The night was long, and the solitude offered him no distractions, only the echoes of his own thoughts.

Later, as the night deepened, Victor Creed—the Victor Creed of this world approached the bars of his cell, as he took a moment to think. Unlike the bloodthirsty Sabretooth that Logan had once known, this Victor had come to a realization of his own. He recognized that this Logan wasn't the Wolverine he had spent his life hating. This Logan wasn't his enemy. He wasn't even the same man.

Victor leaned against the wall, his voice unusually calm and reflective. "If you want my opinion, Logan… I'd say you should take the offer." Logan glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity in Victor's tone. "I still hold a grudge against my world's Logan, but you… you're not that Logan anymore. You're not even the Wolverine. I suppose… you're more like the little brother who was innocent before the rage took hold. You're James Howlett."

Logan looked at Victor, processing the words. The idea of being James Howlett again, of reclaiming some part of the innocence he had lost, struck a chord deep within him.

Victor continued, "But in the end, it's your choice. I'm just giving my opinion." He turned away and returned to his cell where he went to his bunk.

As the night stretched on, Logan sat in silence, the words of Jean, Scott, and Victor echoing in his mind. He thought about the boy he had been, the man he had become, and the chance he was being offered to make amends. It wasn't an easy decision, but as the hours ticked by, he began to realize that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be James Howlett again. To atone for his past and to build a future that was no longer defined by the rage that had once consumed him.

As dawn approached, Logan remained seated, a quiet resolve beginning to take shape within him. The night had given him clarity, and he knew what he needed to do.

…

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the narrow windows of the Raft, Logan—or rather, James Howlett, as he now preferred to be called—stood in front of the table in his cell. The once feral and rage-filled man was gone, replaced by someone more serene, more reflective. The echoes of the past night's thoughts had solidified into a quiet determination.

Jean Grey and Scott Summers were there with him, their presence a reassuring reminder that he wasn't alone in this new chapter of his life. The paperwork sat on the table, detailing the terms of his community service, a path that would allow him to reintegrate into society. It was a second chance, something James had never expected to receive.

He picked up the pen, his hand steady, and began signing the documents. Each stroke of the pen felt like a small step toward reclaiming the person he had once been—the person he wanted to be again. Gone was the Wolverine, the weapon shaped by anger and pain. Now, he was choosing to embrace the name and the identity he had long buried: James Howlett.

As he finished signing, he looked up at Jean and Scott, who were watching him with gentle smiles.

Jean spoke first, her voice warm and encouraging. "You're doing the right thing, James. This is the start of something better."

Scott nodded, his tone equally supportive. "You're not alone in this. We're here to help you every step of the way."

James gave a small nod, feeling the weight of their support. "I appreciate that. It's been a long time since I've felt like I had a future, but… I'm ready to find out what that future looks like."

Jean placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression full of understanding. "You've taken the first step, and that's the hardest part. The rest will come with time."

Scott added, "And remember, you've got people who believe in you. You're not the same person you were before, and that's a good thing. This is your chance to be who you were meant to be."

James took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief and purpose he hadn't felt in years. "Thank you. Both of you. I don't know where this path will lead, but I'm ready to walk it."

With the paperwork signed, James Howlett—no longer the Wolverine, but a man seeking redemption and peace—stood ready to begin his new life. Jean and Scott led him out of the Raft, the weight of his past still present but no longer defining him. As they left the cold confines of the prison behind, the sun rose higher in the sky, and James Howlett took a deep breath of air, ready to start his new life.