Marvel X The Boys

The rift pulsed ominously, casting golden light across the swirling mist. The air buzzed with energy, thick and oppressive. The group stared in uneasy silence, the faint hum growing louder with each passing second.

Butcher broke the tension with a sharp snort. "Right, enough o' this bloody nonsense."

He hefted his crowbar, cracked his neck, and strode forward with the confidence of a man who'd punched more than his fair share of gods and monsters.

"Uh, Butcher?" Hughie called nervously. "Maybe don't?"

"Oi, shut it, lad," Butcher shot back without breaking stride. "You lot stand there pissin' yourselves if you want. I'll handle this glowing bollocks meself."

Deadpool raised a finger. "Bold move. Dumb, but bold. I like it."

Butcher Charges

Butcher broke into a full sprint, his boots thudding against the pavement as he charged toward the golden glow.

"Come on then, ya shiny wanker!" he roared, raising his crowbar. "Let's see what you've got!"

The rest of the group watched in stunned silence as Butcher closed the distance, his face twisted into a mixture of rage and pure determination.

"What's his plan?" Alex asked, wide-eyed.

"Plan?" Deadpool said with a laugh. "Oh, sweet summer child. Butcher doesn't do plans. He does chaos."

The Glow Fizzles

Butcher was mere feet away from the rift when, without warning, the golden light flickered once... twice... and then vanished entirely.

The sudden disappearance left Butcher skidding to a halt, his crowbar swinging through empty air. He stood there for a moment, frozen, before letting out a frustrated growl.

"Are you takin' the piss?" he bellowed, jabbing his crowbar at the empty space where the glow had been. "I come all this way, ready for a proper scrap, and you bugger off?!"

Frenchie clapped slowly from the sidelines. "Bravo, mon ami. Very intimidating."

"Oh, piss off," Butcher snapped, turning back toward the group.

Heading Back

As Butcher stomped back, muttering a string of curses under his breath, Deadpool leaned toward Alex with a grin. "Well, that was anticlimactic. I was hoping for a big explosion or at least some tentacles. You know, something dramatic."

Hughie rubbed the back of his neck. "So... now what?"

"Back to the flat," Butcher said gruffly, shoving his crowbar into his coat. "No point standin' around like a pack of wankers."

Mother's Milk raised an eyebrow. "That's your plan? Head back and... what, wait for the next glow to pop up?"

"Exactly," Butcher replied. "See? You're catchin' on."

Deadpool threw an arm around Hughie's shoulders. "Cheer up, kid. It's not every day you get to see a grown man yell at a disappearing light. That's gotta count for something."

"Yeah," Hughie muttered. "Not sure what, though."

Back at the Apartment

The group trudged back to Alex's apartment, the oppressive tension from earlier replaced by an awkward sense of defeat.

Alex opened the door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. "Well, that was... pointless."

Butcher dropped onto the couch, stretching out like he owned the place. "Pointless? Nah. Now we know the glow's a coward."

Frenchie smirked, flopping into one of the chairs. "Or maybe it's just smarter than you."

"Keep talkin', Frenchie," Butcher warned, pointing a finger. "See where it gets ya."

Deadpool, meanwhile, raided the fridge, emerging with a carton of orange juice. "Anybody thirsty? No? Good." He drank directly from the carton, ignoring Alex's horrified expression.

"That's disgusting," Alex said, his voice flat.

Deadpool shrugged. "Hydration is hydration, kid. Don't judge."

As the group settled back into the apartment, Alex sat at the dining table, staring out the window. The city below seemed calm, but the unease in his chest hadn't faded.

Butcher stretched out on the couch, his boots propped up on the armrest. "Right, wake me when somethin' worth fightin' shows up."

Deadpool clapped his hands. "Now that's the spirit! Nap it off, champ. I'll hold down the fort with my unmatched charm and razor-sharp wit."

Frenchie lit a cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. "At least the mist's gone. For now."

The group fell into a tense silence, the weight of the unknown settling over them once more.

"Whatever happens next," Alex muttered to himself, "I just hope we're ready for it."

From the corner, Deadpool gave him a thumbs-up. "Don't worry, kid. Readiness is overrated. We've got sarcasm, cynicism, and at least one crowbar. What could possibly go wrong?"

The scene faded to black as the city lights flickered faintly, hinting that the calm wouldn't last for long.