Game Over : Marvel Reboot

The transition from spirit form back to physical reality felt like being shoved headfirst through a concrete wall. One moment I was floating in that serene, detached state with the Ancient One, the next - three razor-sharp adamantium claws filled my entire field of vision.

"Ow," I groaned, the pain hitting me in waves as I took stock of my body. Two perfectly round holes in my shoulders were still weeping blood. "Logan, you stabbed me?"

The grizzled mutant didn't even have the decency to look apologetic as he retracted his claws with that familiar *snikt* sound. "Tsk. That's what you get for throwing me through a concrete wall, bub." His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, probably catching the stench of my pheromones still lingering from my earlier... episode.

Before I could respond, his fist buried itself in my gut with the force of a freight train.

"BUK!"

All the air left my lungs in one painful whoosh as I doubled over, tasting bile. "What the actual fuck, Logan?" I wheezed, clutching my stomach.

He just smirked around his cigar, striking a match against his belt buckle with practiced ease. "Told you not to let yourself get that riled up, didn't I?" The flame illuminated the deep lines of his face as he took a long drag.

I opened my mouth to protest when he cut me off. "Never let the kid see you like that." His voice dropped into that gravelly tone he only used when dispensing actual wisdom.

Kid? What kid?

My confusion must have shown because when I glanced at the Ancient One, the sorcerer just winked at me with that infuriating knowing smile of hers. Ah. So that's how they were playing it. Fine. I could roll with some strategic omissions.

"Got... a little carried away," I admitted, straightening up with a wince. My abdominal muscles protested the movement. "Thanks for knocking some sense into me…. Literally."

Logan's gruff chuckle turned into a cough as cigar smoke caught in his throat. "Heh. Glad you're back, bub." His idea of a comforting gesture was slapping me on the back - right over the fresh stab wounds. I gritted my teeth hard enough to hear my molars creak.

Then my gaze landed on the surgical table.

Dietrich Voss.

Even broken and battered, even with half his face caved in from our fight, seeing him still breathing made my vision pulse red at the edges. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth - I'd bitten through my cheek without realizing it.

"So, this is the bastard you've been hunting," Logan muttered, following my stare. His nose wrinkled at the stench of antiseptic and blood that clung to the room.

"Yeah," I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended. "One sick son of a bitch." My fingers twitched toward my sidearm. "The kind who thinks carving up kids is valid science."

Logan's growl vibrated through the room. I didn't need to look to know his claws were out again. The Ancient One remained silent, but her posture shifted ever so slightly. Disapproval? Understanding? With her, it was always hard to tell.

The pistol slid from its holster with practiced ease. The weight felt comforting in my hand, a counterbalance to the storm of emotions still churning in my chest.

"BANG."

The report echoed off the tiled walls, deafening in the confined space. Voss' head snapped to the side, a neat hole appearing just above his right eyebrow. For one surreal moment, his remaining eye seemed to stare right at me before the light faded from it.

Silence.

Not even the Ancient One's robes rustled. Logan's cigar had stopped halfway to his lips. The smell of cordite mixed with blood and antiseptic, creating a perfume that would haunt this room for years.

I exhaled slowly, watching the last wisps of smoke curl from the barrel. Something dark and coiled deep in my chest finally relaxed its grip.

"Hah..." I holstered the gun, the metal clicking home with finality. "That's liberating…."

Turning on my heel, I strode toward the door without a backward glance. The others fell into step behind me - Logan with his characteristic prowl, the Ancient One gliding like a shadow, Michelle hovering uncertainly near the threshold.

My helmet lay where I'd discarded it earlier, the sleek black surface now scuffed and smeared with blood and worse. I toed it with my boot, revealing the cracked visor beneath. No way I was putting that back on my head. The symbolism wasn't lost on me - some masks, once removed, can't be worn the same way again, poetically speaking, but right now that helmet is gross.

"Wraith! Are you okay?!" Michelle's voice cut through the sterile hallway as she sprinted toward us, her boots squeaking on the linoleum. Up close, I could see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her fingers trembled slightly even as she tried to project calm.

The concern in her voice made my throat tighten. I'd scared her. Scared all of them, really. "I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile that felt too tight across my face. "Thanks for coming."

"Like I said - I kept my promise!" The relief in her voice was palpable, that familiar bubbly tone returning now that she saw I wasn't about to go full berserker again.

But her eyes kept darting to the bloodstains on my suit, the way I favored my left side where Logan's punch had landed. Kids these days - too observant for their own good.

"I knew you would," I said, and meant it. Michelle had proven herself more reliable than most seasoned agents I'd worked with.

The walk to the control room felt longer than it should have. Every step sent fresh jolts of pain through my battered body, but I welcomed it - a physical counterpoint to the emotional maelstrom I'd just weathered. Michelle kept pace beside me, while Logan and the Ancient One hung back, giving us space.

The doors hissed open to reveal Magina's avatar already waiting on the main screen. Her digital eyes locked onto me instantly, scanning for injuries with an intensity that would put any medical AI to shame.

"Father." Her voice wavered in a way I'd never heard before. "Are you alright now?"

That simple question hit harder than Logan's punch. She'd seen everything - the rage, the loss of control, the moment I'd become more beast than man. And still she waited, still she worried.

Crossing the room, I placed a hand against the cool glass of the display. A poor substitute for an actual hug, but it was the best I could offer my digital daughter in that moment.

"I'm fine, Magina," I said softly, pouring every ounce of sincerity I had into the words. "Thank you... for calling them. For watching my back."

Her projection flickered - the digital equivalent of a shaky breath - before solidifying again. "Always, Father."

The tension in the room eased by degrees. Logan found a chair to sprawl in, the Ancient One assumed her customary meditative pose, and Michelle started pulling up damage reports. Normalcy, or something close to it.

But as I looked around at my unlikely friends - the gruff warrior, the sorcerer, the normies, and the AI daughter- I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted today. The road ahead looked darker but brighter than before, and I wasn't entirely sure what that meant for any of us. For now, though, the storm had passed. And that would have to be enough.

The control room fell into a rare, comfortable silence as Magina and I shared our quiet moment. I hadn't realized how much I needed this—just the reassurance that despite everything, she was still here, still mine. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the others watching us. Logan leaned against a console, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened into something almost... paternal. Michelle had her hands clasped over her chest; eyes suspiciously bright. Even the Ancient One, ever the picture of serene detachment, wore the faintest hint of a smile. 

It was a strange sight—me, a man who'd just lost himself to rage moments ago, now being looked at like some tragic, devoted father. Like we were some heartwarming stories of familial love overcoming adversity. If only they knew the truth. That Magina wasn't some sickly daughter I was fighting to save. That I wasn't some noble avenger, just a man who'd snapped under the weight of his own power. 

But the illusion worked. And for now, I'd let them believe it. 

The Ancient One finally broke the silence, her voice smooth as ever. "Alright, I believe that concludes our business here." She turned to me, golden portals already spinning to life at her fingertips. "Mr. Wraith, I'll take these two with me. You'll be fine from here, yes?" 

"I've got it from here," I said, nodding. "Thanks, Ancient One." 

She inclined her head, the portals widening to reveal the familiar grounds of the X-Mansion on the other side.

Logan clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder—thankfully not the stabbed one this time. "Bub, don't do stupid shit again, okay?"

"I know," I sighed. "Thanks, Logan." 

He grunted, then turned to one of the screens where Magina's avatar flickered. "Kid, if your old man pulls another stunt like this, you call me directly, got it?" 

"Yes, Uncle Logan," Magina replied, her voice deliberately softer, sweeter. Playing the part. 

I nearly choked. Uncle Logan? Since when were they on cutesy nickname terms? And since when did Wolverine act like some doting family friend? The man who once told me sentiment was a weakness was now giving me parenting advice. 

The world had officially gone mad. 

Michelle stepped forward, hesitating for just a second before throwing her arms around me in a quick, tight hug. "Take care of yourself, Wraith. And you too, Magina." She pulled back, grinning. "Don't let him do anything reckless."

"I'll try," Magina said dryly. 

And just like that, the three of them stepped through the portal, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and my daughter. 

The second the golden sparks faded, I collapsed into the nearest chair, dragging a hand down my face. "Fuck." 

"Father," Magina remarked, her tone shifting back to its usual cool precision. No more playing the fragile, adoring daughter now that the audience was gone. 

"Sorry, Magina," I muttered, exhaustion finally hitting me full-force. The adrenaline was gone, leaving behind only the weight of what had happened. The Ancient One's presence alone had been enough to put me on edge—I'd genuinely thought she might decide I was too dangerous to leave alive. 

"You were gone for a week," Magina said quietly. "Slowly descending into madness. I had to bring you back." 

A week. A whole damn week lost to the storm inside my head. 

"Hah... never thought I'd be that far gone," I admitted. "A power that feeds on emotions is unstable enough. Turns out, when it latches onto an unstable person, the results aren't pretty." 

Magina's holographic form flickered, her version of a sigh. "You should have seen yourself. It was... concerning."

"Yeah, well, lesson learned." I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "By the way, what was with the pity party from Logan and Michelle? They were looking at me like I was some tragic hero from a soap opera." 

Magina paused. Then, almost sheepishly, she said, "Ah. That would be the Ancient One's doing." 

"Oh?" 

She proceeded to explain—how the Ancient One had spun a tale of a grieving single father, fighting against the world to avenge his comatose, sickly daughter. A story of sacrifice, of relentless determination. A noble cause. 

I blinked. "She made me sound like a goddamn Disney protagonist."

"I was shocked too," Magina admitted. "But I played along. It... helped explain your state. And it makes you more sympathetic to potential allies."

I couldn't help but laugh. The Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme, had essentially given me a backstory—one that painted me as the tragic hero instead of the loose cannon I really was. 

"Well," I said, shaking my head, "can't argue with results. If it keeps Logan from stabbing me on sight next time, I'll take it."

Magina's avatar shimmered in amusement. "I think he's adapted to you. In his own, stab-happy way."

"Great. Just what I needed."

Pushing myself up from the chair, I stretched, feeling my bones protest. "Anyway, let's clean this place up and burn it to the ground. I'm done here." 

Shadow servants materialized at my call, their dark forms rippling like liquid night. Time to erase every trace of HYDRA's filth from this base. 

"Let's go home, Father," Magina said softly. 

"Yeah," I agreed, watching as the first flames began to lick at the walls. "Let's finish up here and go home."