Max's Fragmented Dreams
Not fire this time. Not screams.
This dream was… calm. A sky of deep indigo, stars forming constellations he almost remembered. Beside him, a blurred figure laughed — warm, confident, hand on his shoulder as though they'd grown up together.
"You always chase trouble," the voice said, distorted but not cruel. "One day you'll chase it too far."
Max turned, desperate to see. For a heartbeat the static cleared — he saw a vague crown, a smile, and… a crest he knew wasn't Takonian. Something foreign. Alien. The hint of a star blazing in the background.
Then it tore away, leaving only the memory of loss.
The Milano
Max jolted awake, no screaming this time — just silence, sweat, and light flickering under his skin like dying embers.
Peter sat across from him, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. "You said something in your sleep. A name. Couldn't catch it. Sounded… important."
Max shook his head, voice hollow. "If I knew it, I'd tell you. It feels like someone took scissors to my memories. I can see shapes of people, moments, but not their faces."
Gamora stepped in behind Peter. "That's no accident. The Collector has ways of burying what he doesn't want touched."
Rocket, chewing on wires, muttered, "Great. So our new roommates got a scrambled hard drive. Maybe don't poke it unless you want him to blow the ship in his sleep."
Max closed his eyes again, whispering under his breath. "I just know… he was my friend. Maybe more like a brother. And I lost him. Just like I lost Takion."
(Deadpool Meta-Cut — Unseen Narrator)
"Ah, the classic memory breadcrumb trail. Guy can't remember jack, but we've got: mysterious buddy, a crown, and a suspiciously redacted alien crest. Ten bucks says this is the other shoe waiting to drop in the Ego arc. Spoiler alert: it's gonna hurt."