"Mr. Stark," B-15, who had been silent until now, turned to Malrick with steady eyes.
The TVA commander walked up and gave him a rare nod of respect.
"Thank you for dealing with Cassandra, that Omega-level mutant. Because of her overwhelming power, we were forced to compromise with her, agreeing not to interfere. But her growth in the Void and her attempts to control Alioth were always a hidden danger to the Multiverse. Left unchecked, it could have collapsed into chaos."
She drew in a deep breath. "Now that she's dead, the Void can return to stability."
Malrick waved casually. "She just happened to walk into my sights, that's all. And don't call me Stark—there are already two of those around. Just call me Malrick."
"Alright then, Malrick," B-15 said with a faint smile.
"I don't know how to properly thank you. How about this: when we return, we hold a banquet in your honor?"
Malrick raised an eyebrow. "A banquet? Sounds more like you're trying to rope me into your Anchor program again." He spread his hands with a shrug. "Don't bother. I've said it before, I'm not joining."
"Then maybe something else?" B-15 asked.
"You want to thank me? Hand over a few of those Infinity Stones you've got locked away in your bureau. I don't need all of them. A hundred, maybe eighty, should do."
B-15 blinked, caught completely off guard.
"…A hundred or eighty?" She hesitated, then nodded far too easily. "If that's what you want, sure. But honestly, what would you even do with those useless stones? They're not worth more than paperweights in the TVA."
Malrick tilted his head. "Maybe not here. But if I bring them back to my own universe, who knows?"
Understanding flickered in B-15's eyes. She sighed, her tone shifting to lecture mode.
"Malrick, you may not realize—those Stones are all from timelines that were pruned long ago. They were formed from the six primal singularities at the dawn of creation. The singularities held infinite energy, yes—but once the universes they belonged to collapsed, the Stones lost their true power.
They still function, but at a fraction of their original strength. If you're thinking of using them to enhance yourself or study the laws of reality, don't expect much."
Malrick's expression didn't change, but inwardly, he wasn't surprised. It was what he had suspected.
"Well, even if they're not at full strength, they might still have some use. When we get back, just let me take a look and pick a couple."
"No problem," B-15 agreed. She raised her time tablet. "Then let's head—"
A piercing scream cut her off.
Everyone turned. Wolverine had Deadpool pinned to the ground, stabbing him over and over again with his claws.
"Are you happy now?!" Logan roared between strikes. "Happy being a failure?! Happy dragging everyone down?! Happy that your friends are dead?! I'll make you happy, you bastard!"
Each blow was brutal, every claw tearing into arteries. Blood splattered across the cracked ground.
Gwen winced. "That… looks painful. Why are they tearing each other apart? Because Deadpool dragged him here?"
"I'm afraid it's deeper than that," B-15 said grimly. "This Wolverine comes from one of the bleakest timelines. Once, the X-Men invited him to join, but he refused. Later, drunk and filled with regret, he returned to the Xavier School… and found everyone dead. Professor X, Jean, Storm—all gone."
She continued softly. "He lost his mind, seeking revenge. But in his rage, he slaughtered not just villains, but heroes… and even innocents. He became the very monster he hated."
The group went silent.
B-15's eyes stayed on Logan. "By tearing into Deadpool now, he's not just punishing Wade. He's punishing himself."
"Wow," Gwen whispered. "You guys at the TVA really know everyone's life story, don't you?"
"It's not just us anymore," B-15 corrected with a small smile. "Now you and the Peters are TVA personnel too. Soon you'll study the Multiverse just like we do."
"That sounds amazing! I'll report in every day," Gwen said excitedly.
"No, it's not amazing at all," Deadpool groaned weakly from beneath Logan's claws.
Though B-15's voice hadn't risen, Wolverine had heard every word. His movements slowed. Two claws remained lodged in Deadpool's chest as Logan froze, shoulders trembling under the weight of memory. His eyes clouded with grief and desolation.
Deadpool, of course, couldn't help himself. "Oh, Logan, if you'd just told me your tragic backstory earlier, I wouldn't have been mad. You're way more miserable than me."
Logan's jaw clenched.
Deadpool grinned through the pain. "See? I'm cheering you up. With my big mouth. As usual."
The next twist of Logan's claws made him shriek again.
"Okay, okay! Stop! I'm serious this time!" Deadpool shouted, scrambling for ideas. His gaze snapped to B-15. "Hey! You TVA people can time travel, right? Why not let Logan go back and change his past?"
Logan froze, eyes darting to B-15, his voice almost pleading. "Is that… possible?"
B-15 shook her head firmly. "Changing the past just creates a new branch timeline. Your world stays exactly the same. You wouldn't undo your tragedy—you'd only create a copy where things went differently."
"But… that other world would have a Logan too, wouldn't it?" he pressed.
"Yes. A version who never suffered your losses," she admitted.
"That's enough." Logan ripped his claws free and stood. He faced B-15 squarely. "Then let me do it. Let me fix what I ruined. I'll do whatever it takes."
B-15 hesitated, uncertain. "That's… not how the TVA operates."
Deadpool shot upright despite his wounds, pointing enthusiastically. "Oh, come on! Look at this guy. He'd make an amazing TVA employee. You give him closure, he'll work nonstop for you! Win-win!"
He spun and jabbed a finger toward Malrick. "Even Marvel Superman over here would vouch for him—"
He didn't finish. Malrick casually punched him in the head, flattening him to the ground again.
But his words lingered. B-15's expression softened. She glanced between Logan and Malrick, sighed, and finally said, "We'll… discuss it when we're back at the TVA."
It wasn't a promise, but it wasn't a refusal either.
For the first time in years, Logan managed a faint smile.
Deadpool, still sprawled on the ground, gave a bloody thumbs-up.
Malrick stood apart from the group, scanning the horizon.
In the distance, a ridiculous sight approached: a small mangy dog dressed in Deadpool's mask and costume, tongue lolling, ears flopping as it bounded toward them. Behind it, a storm of dust rose into the sky.
The source of the dust?
An entire motorcycle gang of Deadpool variants, engines roaring as they closed in.
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