Game Over : Marvel Reboot

The alley was silent now, save for the faint drip of blood pooling beneath the bodies of the five men who had, just moments ago, been alive and laughing. Matt Murdock stood amidst the carnage, his senses overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. His body ached from the beating he had taken, his ribs throbbing with every breath, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil in his mind.

"This… this isn't how it was supposed to go," Matt muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He knelt beside one of the bodies, his fingers brushing against the cold, lifeless skin. The man's pulse was gone, his chest still. Dead. All of them, dead.

Matt's jaw tightened as he stood, his fists clenching at his sides. He was a man of strict morals, a believer in justice and the rule of law. Killing wasn't something he could condone, no matter the circumstances. And yet, it had happened. Five lives, extinguished in the blink of an eye. By someone else's hand, yes, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he bore some responsibility for it.

"If I had been better… if I had been smarter…" he trailed off, his voice heavy with guilt. He replayed the events in his mind, analyzing every decision, every mistake. He had been too eager, too reckless. He should have secured the woman first, ensured her safety before engaging the thugs. Instead, he had charged in, hoping to draw their attention. And it had backfired on him spectacularly.

He sighed, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. "This is on me," he said to the empty alley. "I failed, I failed… myself."

As he made his way back to his apartment, his mind refused to quiet. The image of the unknown man—the one who had intervened—kept resurfacing. Matt had been too injured, too disoriented to get a clear sense of him, but what he had noticed was enough to unsettle him.

The man's voice had been cold, calm, and calculated, cutting through the chaos like a blade. His movements had been soundless, precise, as if he were a shadow given form. And the way he had commanded the situation; the way he had instilled fear in the thugs with nothing but his presence… it was masterfully done, terrifyingly so.

"Who are you?" Matt murmured as he stepped into his apartment, wincing as he peeled off his bloodied clothes. He tended to his wounds with practiced efficiency, clearly, he had done this far too many times, his mind still racing. "And why did you step in?"

He wanted to believe the man had acted out of a sense of justice, that he had intervened to save lives. But something about the way he had executed the thugs—cold, methodical, without hesitation—left Matt uneasy. This wasn't someone who operated within the bounds of morality. This was someone who had seen too much and done too much. Someone dangerous. Someone who can't be left alone to applied their own sort of justice.

"I need to get better," Matt said aloud, his voice firm despite the pain coursing through his body. "I can't let this happen again. I can't let him happen again."

Meanwhile, in Kamar-Taj, the ancient sanctum of the Sorcerers Supreme, the Ancient One sat in her private chambers, a cup of tea steaming gently in her hands. The room was serene, filled with the soft glow of candlelight and the faint scent of incense. But her calm demeanor was betrayed by the slight furrow in her brow.

"Hmm?"

She had felt it again—a faint, almost imperceptible disturbance in the mystical fabric of reality. It had lasted only a second, like a gentle breeze brushing against her senses, but it was enough to catch her attention. This was the second time in 2 days that she had felt it. And while it wasn't malevolent or threatening, it was… unusual.

Setting her tea aside, the Ancient One rose from her seat and made her way to the Eye of Agamotto. The artifact glowed faintly as she activated it, its green light casting eerie shadows across the room. She peered into the future, searching for any anomalies, any deviations from the path she had foreseen.

But what she found—or rather, what she didn't find—left her puzzled. The timeline appeared unchanged, everything unfolding as it should. And yet, there was a gap, a blank space where her vision of the future ended abruptly. She could see up to her meeting with Dr. Stephen Strange, but beyond that… nothing.

"Curious," she murmured, her voice tinged with both intrigue and concern. "Who are you and what are you hiding, I wonder?"

As she deactivated the Eye, the door to her chamber creaked open, and two figures stepped inside—Master Kaecilius and Master Mordo. Both men wore expressions of mild concern, their eyes fixed on the Ancient One.

"Is everything alright?" Mordo asked, his deep voice calm but probing. "You seem… troubled."

Kaecilius tilted his head, his sharp features narrowing in curiosity. "Yes, Master. We couldn't help but notice your preoccupation. Is there something we should be aware of?"

The Ancient One offered them a reassuring smile, though her eyes remained distant. "Nothing to concern yourselves with," she said, her tone light but firm. "Just a fleeting thought. Carry on with your duties."

"Oh…alright then, Master," The two masters exchanged a glance but said nothing more as they bowed and exited the room.

Once alone, the Ancient One's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet determination.

"Something has awakened," she said to herself, her voice barely audible. "And I intend to find out what."

The Ancient One stood in the dimly lit chamber, the Eye of Agamotto glowing faintly in her hands. The green light of the Time Stone cast eerie shadows across the room as she peered into the future, her brow furrowed in concentration. What she saw—or rather, what she didn't see—left her deeply unsettled.

The timeline stretched out before her, a tapestry of infinite possibilities. But it was fragmented, disjointed, like a film reel cut into pieces and hastily reassembled. Events she had never been able to see before—moments beyond her destined death—were now visible, but only in fleeting glimpses. And whenever she tried to focus, to pinpoint the source of the disturbance, it slipped away, obscured by an impenetrable veil.

"This… this shouldn't be possible," she murmured, her voice tinged with unease. The Time Stone's power was absolute, its ability to reveal the future unparalleled. And yet, something—or someone—was interfering with it. Something that could hide from the gaze of the Time Stone itself.

She deactivated the Eye, the green light fading as she let out a slow breath. For the first time in centuries, she felt a flicker of anxiety. Whatever this anomaly was, it was beyond her understanding. And that made it dangerous.

"I must tread carefully," she said to herself, her voice steady but laced with caution. "Anything capable of defying the Time Stone is not to be underestimated."

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Meanwhile, in a hidden HYDRA facility in Brooklyn, the air was thick with tension. Dietrich Voss, the facility's overseer, paced the length of his office, his sharp features twisted into a scowl. The news of the two missing body disposal staff had sent the base into a frenzy. Security teams scrambled to investigate, their movements hurried and frantic.

"What do you mean, they're gone?" Voss barked at the security officer standing before him. "Two men don't just vanish into thin air! You incompetent fools!!"

The officer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the floor. "Sir, we've searched the entire facility. There's no sign of them. But… we did find something."

Voss raised an eyebrow, his impatience palpable. "Well? Spit it out!"

"Their lockers," the officer said, hesitating. "They've been emptied. It looks like they deserted. Betrayed us."

Voss's scowl deepened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Deserted? You're telling me two low-level grunts just walked out of here with our secrets?"

The officer nodded, though his expression was uncertain. "There's no evidence of foul play, sir. No signs of an intruder. They're Just… gone."

Voss let out a low growl, his mind racing. The timing was suspicious. Could it be Magneto? The Brotherhood? Or something else entirely? He shook his head, dismissing the thought. For now, the base would operate as usual. But the two missing men would not be forgotten.

"Put out a bounty," Voss ordered, his voice cold and sharp. "I want them found. Alive, if possible. But dead is acceptable. No one betrays HYDRA and lives to tell the tale."

The officer nodded, snapping a quick salute before hurrying out of the room. Voss turned to the window, his eyes narrowing as he stared out at the darkened facility. Something didn't add up. And he intended to find out what. And if he can't, then it is better to hide these embarrassing mishaps, a mistake like this could hurt his reputation and wasted all the effort he made for a long time to rise to even higher position in HYDRA.

At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Professor Charles Xavier sat in his study, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The faint psychic "pinch" he had felt earlier still lingered in his mind, a subtle but unmistakable disturbance. It was the second time it had happened, and it left him deeply unsettled.

"Hank," Xavier said, his voice calm but firm as he activated the intercom. "I need you to prepare Cerebro. Immediately."

A moment later, Dr. Hank McCoy—Beast—entered the study, his blue fur bristling with curiosity. "Charles, what's going on? You sounded… urgent."

Xavier wheeled himself toward the door, his expression serious. "I've felt a psychic disturbance. Twice now. It's faint, but it's there. I need to find its source… the way it happened, felt off…"

Hank frowned, his sharp mind already working through the possibilities. "A disturbance? From whom? Or what?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Xavier replied as they made their way to the Cerebro chamber. The massive device hummed to life as Hank activated it, its intricate mechanisms glowing with a soft, otherworldly light.

Xavier donned the Cerebro helmet, his mind expanding as he tapped into its power. He searched, his psychic senses reaching out across the globe, probing for the source of the disturbance. But no matter how far he stretched, he found nothing. The sensation was gone, as if it had never existed.

"Anything?" Hank asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Xavier removed the helmet, his expression troubled. "No. Nothing. It's as if… it just vanished."

Hank crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "Perhaps it was nothing. A glitch, maybe. Or a residual echo from another telepath."

Xavier nodded, though his unease remained. "Perhaps. But I can't shake the feeling that something is… off."

As they left the Cerebro chamber, Xavier glanced back at the device, his mind racing. Whatever he had felt, it was real. And he couldn't ignore it.

Far away, in a secluded hideout, Irene Adler—Destiny—sat bolt upright, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her precognitive abilities had always been a double-edged sword, granting her glimpses of the future but often at a cost. This time, the cost was steep.

The vision had hit her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her senses. At first, there was only darkness, a suffocating void that filled her with panic. But then, the image came into focus: a young man, standing in the middle of a blood-soaked hallway. The carnage around him was indescribable, the air thick with the stench of death and the palpable weight of fury. It was a scene of pure, unrelenting wrath.

Irene tried to hold onto the vision, to see more, to understand what is going on. But the intensity of it was too much, and perhaps she had pushed her time far too long, the young man turned, his eyes locking onto hers, and she felt a surge of fear so profound it threatened to consume her.

"Don't even try, Irene Adler…" The young man said, and then, everything went black.

When she came to, she was trembling, her body drenched in sweat. Magneto was at her side, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Irene," he said, his voice low and steady. "What did you see?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Something… someone. A force unlike anything I've ever encountered. He's coming, Erik. And when he does, the world will tremble." Leaving with that cryptic word, Irene Adler passed out.