"So… she really is crazy, right?"
Outside, parked by the curb, Dean and Sam sat on the hood of their car, eating their takeout lunch. They were still digesting Gabriela's earlier explanation—but Sam clearly wasn't convinced.
"All this because of some coordinates printed in a comic book? And they're just going to treat that place as the mutant Eden? That's gambling with lives," Sam said bitterly, slamming his beer bottle down on the hood.
He cast a glance back toward Gabriela's apartment, a storm of unease clouding his face.
He couldn't wrap his head around it—how could anyone build a plan off something as flimsy as coordinates from a comic? That place could be deep in uncharted wilderness, even a deadly, uninhabitable zone.
Rushing there blindly? Forget the difficulty of crossing the border—surviving once you're there might be the real issue.
"You still don't get it," Dean said, shaking his head, his expression unreadable. "What we see as a dead end… is the only hope they've ever had."
Seeing Sam's confusion, Dean explained further, "These kids—no parents, no families, never even seen the real world. To them, those old X-Men comics? That's all they have. That's their Bible."
"You're telling me… they believe the comics are real?" Sam blinked.
Dean nodded solemnly. "Does it matter if it's real or not? If they believe it's Eden, then it is Eden. The coordinates don't matter—it's the idea that gives them something to hold onto."
"You said Gabriela's crazy. Yeah, she is. But what choice did she have? She has no power to change anything. So she clings to madness. To these kids, that madness is the only hope they've ever known."
Dean stood beside the black Impala, his hand sliding across the dusty windshield. His eyes, however, were locked on the distant city skyline—where flames danced and black smoke spiraled into the sky.
"Look at that, Sam," he murmured.
"This is just one corner of the world's madness."
The streets were flooded with people—minds broken by hysteria, driven by the collective fever dream planted by invaders from beyond their world. The clock had turned. This world had a chance… and threw it away with its own hands.
These frenzied rioters—criminals with no remorse—screamed as they surged into the streets. Behind every riot, the same twisted grin. They didn't care what started it. They only knew one thing: when chaos comes, the night becomes a festival of violence.
On the massive screen above the avenue, horrific footage played—Manhattan in ruins. Mutants from other realities had lost control, spilling into the city like a tidal wave. The National Guard had issued its highest alert, but to the citizens here, it was just another political broadcast.
The flare had already been fired.
Marches consumed the cities. The streets were overrun with people declaring their hatred for mutants—loud, venomous, and absolute.
But how many of them truly understood the role mutants played in this world?
How many of them knew… what they were choosing to destroy?
This story is insane—but nowhere near as insane as the world it takes place in.
[World leaders have announced that if the bloodshed escalates, they will no longer stand by idly. The borders are in chaos—hundreds have breached the fences heading into Mexico, and thousands are following.]
[Whistleblowers have released evidence implicating the U.S. government and the Essex Corporation in experiments involving artificial mutants and genetically modified test subjects.]
[There is strong reason to believe that the mutants who disappeared from history—X-Men included—did so because of malicious experimentation by the U.S. government.]
[As law enforcement officers began joining the swelling protest movements, the situation in New York has rapidly deteriorated. Protesters are demanding the release of artificially created mutants and full government transparency.]
[One of the most urgent questions remains—why do 81% of the world's mutants originate from the United States?]
[According to Professor Charles Xavier's "Mutant Theory," mutations are a result of natural genetic evolution. However, recent findings suggest these mutations may not be entirely random.]
[With three anonymous Essex Corporation researchers leaking internal documents, it has come to light that the company, working with the government for decades, was attempting to suppress uncontrolled X-genes while secretly developing controllable mutant prototypes.]
[The nation is still awaiting an official presidential statement.]
"Alright, I got it," Alex said, ending the call.
He pulled his coat tighter and stepped into a dimly lit alleyway.
"Dean and Sam made contact with Gabriela," he said into the shadows. "She's safe for now. Looks like Essex Corporation is too distracted by the protests to deal with anything else."
"They've got bigger problems than one woman and a little girl," muttered James, trailing close behind him.
Alex nodded slightly. "True. But are you sure you want to come with me? There's only Polaris and Blink left with Charles—you're not worried?"
James shook his head grimly. "They'll take care of him. As long as they can find Caliban, they'll have a better shot at staying safe."
"No, I mean—given the condition you're in—following me might be dangerous," Alex said, glancing at the grizzled man beside him, the once-black hair now fully silver.
James—the Wolverine—smirked coldly. "How much worse could it get?" he said, the chill in his voice cutting through the night. "Essex has deployed X-gene scanners. If those things work, every mutant on Earth is going to be walking around with a target on their back."
"At least you're still trying to find a way to survive."
Alex suddenly stopped in his tracks, the weight of the world burning in his eyes.
He turned his head and looked James square in the face as he spoke.
"This is your world, Logan. You know every inch of it better than I ever could. If you wanted to disappear, no one could track you—not even with mutant gene scanners. And with Blink by your side, you wouldn't even have to worry about crossing borders."
"But where could we even run to?" James stared back at Alex. "You said it yourself—this isn't just about us. If the whole world is spiraling toward collapse, how am I supposed to keep running and call it survival?"
Alex stared at James for a long moment before sighing heavily.
Post-human theory.
He never expected to encounter something so similar in this world.
"This world's trust in mutants shattered long ago," Alex said. "It started when Charles lost control and accidentally killed the last of the X-Men. And now, what happened in Manhattan has dragged it all back into the light."
He rubbed his temples, eyes full of fatigue.
"People don't know those mutants came from alternate worlds. Whether it's the unstable ones or those rogue Sentinels—none of that matters. To the public, it looks like the U.S. government is preparing for war."
"But that's not entirely wrong, is it?" James replied. "The things Essex Corporation did—they're not fiction. You've seen the kids in those labs. That's all the proof we need."
"I know," Alex said grimly. "And that's the heart of the problem. Essex was making weapons. Genetically crafted mutants, lab-grown for control. But they needed to bury that secret deep underground."
"And the out-of-control mutants blew it wide open," James followed up.
"Exactly. Exposed everything."
Alex stepped out from the corner, peering at the looters and rioters running wild through the streets. His expression turned colder.
"Now that mutants have vanished from the spotlight, the whole issue is being dragged up again."
Then Alex suddenly turned his head back sharply.
"Logan, I want to know more about this world."
"What?" James blinked, caught off guard.
"I've been thinking," Alex said slowly. "Why this world? Why are they so interested in it? There must be something here—something I haven't seen. Maybe something hidden beneath the surface."
There was tension in his voice.
At first, he thought this world might be linked to Deadpool 3—maybe even TVA interference. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized something didn't add up.
He was looking for Deadpool and the Time Variance Authority—but if that was the only reason, then the Dark Watchers wouldn't have guided him here. Not to this Earth.
James furrowed his brow, lost in thought, then shook his head slightly.
"I don't know what event or truth you're talking about," he said slowly. "Since the day I was born in this world, aside from the X-Gene, I've never noticed anything particularly... special. I fought in both World Wars. Took down corrupt governments. Went head-to-head with agents from the Red Room."
"But none of that proves anything. My real life didn't begin until I met Charles. Believe me, Alex—this right now... this chaos... is the only thing I've ever experienced that I'd call abnormal."
"Wait a second," Alex suddenly interrupted, eyes narrowing, voice sharp.
"What did you say just now? What agents?"
James was taken aback by the intensity in Alex's expression. For someone who had stared down cosmic threats, it was rare to see him react like this.
Swallowing hard, James hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment.
"Red... the Red Room. Why? What's the problem?"
.....
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