Marvel: Rise of the Cosmic Beast

Rain clung to the trees in cold silence. The smoke had cleared, but the tension remained—a low hum beneath every heartbeat.

Garou stood near the shattered crater where the Dormammu-possessed creature had died. His coat was torn, his arms still steaming from cosmic burns, but his expression was unreadable. Watchful. Waiting.

"You should come with us," Captain Marvel said, floating above the scorched earth. "You've seen what we're up against. You're strong—we could use you."

Tony's voice chimed in from his helmet. "You're a wild card, Garou. But wild cards win battles. I've seen worse on the payroll."

Garou didn't even glance at them. "I work alone."

Wolverine grunted from the shadows. "Too bad. We don't trust lone wolves."

"You don't trust anyone," Rogue said, stepping between them.

Garou didn't move. His silence was an answer of its own.

Doctor Strange stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "That creature was just a fragment. Dormammu's watching. That sigil you destroyed—it severed a connection. But not the threat."

"I don't care about Dormammu," Garou said, voice like gravel. "Or your wars."

Strange's brow twitched. "You will."

Cyclops took a step forward, arms crossed. "You're dangerous. You don't follow rules. You didn't even hesitate to charge in blind."

"I didn't need to."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Cyclops snapped. "That you're in control?"

The moment crackled. Garou's gaze sharpened. Tension wound tight between him and the others—like a blade balanced on a heartbeat.

Rogue touched his arm. "Come with me."

He hesitated.

She didn't wait for a reply—just walked. And after a beat, Garou followed.

---

They stopped at a quiet cliffside overlooking the valley. Mist drifted through the trees, soft and cool, wrapping the world in gray.

Garou leaned against a crooked tree, arms folded. Rogue stood nearby, looking out at the distant glow of the destroyed battlefield.

"You're not as alone as you think," she said quietly.

Garou didn't respond at first.

"I've always been alone," he said finally. "Before the power. Before the mutations. Before I became... whatever I am now."

Rogue looked at him. "You think that's a reason not to try?"

He met her eyes. "You've felt it, haven't you? That hunger. The power calling. That thing back there—it was just a taste of what's coming. And I liked it. That fight. The challenge."

She exhaled. "I've touched minds, Garou. I've felt what real monsters think. You're not one."

"I'm not a hero either."

"No. But maybe you're something else."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then:

"Why do you care?"

She stepped closer. "Because I see someone who's trying to pretend he's beyond saving. Someone who pushes people away before they get too close. But the truth is..."

She placed a gloved hand on his.

"You've already made your choice. You didn't run. You fought beside us."

His jaw tightened. "That was survival."

She smiled gently. "Was it?"

He didn't answer.

Wind rustled through the trees. A faint warmth cut through the mist as the storm finally began to fade.

Rogue turned, her voice softer now. "They'll keep coming. Heroes, villains. People trying to use you. People trying to stop you. You'll have to choose where you stand."

Garou looked at her, his voice low. "And where do you stand?"

She hesitated, then met his gaze fully. "With you. If you'll let me."

That cracked something in him.

For a second, the cosmic fury behind his golden eyes dimmed. He looked... tired. Not broken—but worn. A warrior without a war. A weapon with no cause.

And yet, here she was. Not flinching. Not running.

Just waiting.

He stepped forward. "You're not scared of me."

"I'm scared of what happens if you stop fighting."

His hand reached out—hovering near her cheek, not quite touching.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured.

"You won't."

She pulled off her glove. Her bare fingers touched his cheek.

And nothing happened.

No power drained. No backlash. Just warmth. Skin on skin.

He froze.

"How—?"

"Don't know," she whispered. "Maybe it's you. Maybe it's me. Maybe we're just... not broken around each other."

For a long moment, the world held its breath. Then he leaned in—not for a kiss, not yet—but just to rest his forehead against hers.

It was more intimacy than either of them had known in years.

---

Back at the camp, the Avengers and X-Men stood in tense discussion.

"Are we seriously letting him go?" Cyclops asked, exasperated.

"We can't contain him," Strange said simply. "Not without making him an enemy."

"He is an enemy," Logan muttered. "We just don't know it yet."

Tony crossed his arms. "Or he's the weapon we need against Dormammu."

Storm, watching the horizon, spoke quietly. "Either way, Rogue's the key. She sees something the rest of us don't."

Carol nodded. "Let's just hope she's right."

---

When Rogue and Garou returned, the others were waiting. No threats. No demands. Just a silent truce.

Garou didn't speak, but he gave one nod—to Strange, to Storm, and finally to Rogue.

"I'm not staying," he said. "But I'm not disappearing either."

"Then we'll be watching," Strange said.

Garou smirked. "I'm counting on it."

He turned to leave, coat fluttering behind him.

Rogue followed.

And for the first time, Garou didn't stop her.