Marvel X The Boys

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building settling. The group had settled into an uneasy rhythm—half-hearted banter masking the weight of their predicament.

Butcher sat in the corner, nursing a beer and scowling at nothing in particular. Frenchie was tinkering with a random appliance he'd found in Alex's kitchen, much to Alex's chagrin. Mother's Milk leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold with weary amusement.

Deadpool, of course, was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself.

"So, anyone else feel like we're in the world's worst episode of Friends?" Deadpool asked, lounging upside-down on the couch. "Except instead of witty banter, we've got murder threats and one guy who probably uses a crowbar to butter his toast."

"I'll butter your bloody head if you don't shut it," Butcher growled, taking a long sip of his beer.

"Ah, there it is!" Deadpool said, flipping upright with a grin. "The famous Butcher charm. You should put that on a Hallmark card. 'Thinking of you—now piss off.'"

Frenchie chuckled, holding up a toaster he'd disassembled. "Mon dieu, this is the most depressing team I've ever been part of. And that includes the time I worked with a mime assassin."

Alex sighed from the dining table, staring at his glowing system interface. The latest quest notification hovered faintly in his peripheral vision, a constant reminder of the chaos waiting outside.

System Notification

[QUEST PAUSED: MULTIVERSAL INVESTIGATION]

Time Remaining: ???

"Great," Alex muttered. "Even the system doesn't know what's going on."

"Don't worry, kid," Deadpool said, pulling out a deck of cards. "I've got just the thing to kill time while the multiverse unravels: strip poker."

"No," Alex said flatly.

"Oh, come on," Deadpool said, dealing imaginary cards to everyone. "What else are we going to do? Watch Frenchie electrocute himself with a toaster? Listen to Butcher mumble his life story? Bet Hughie's socks are mismatched?"

"They're not," Hughie said quickly, glancing at his feet to check.

"Enough," Butcher barked, standing abruptly. "This ain't a bloody holiday. The multiverse is crackin' apart, and we're sittin' here like twats."

"And whose fault is that?" Alex snapped, surprising himself.

The room fell silent, everyone staring at Alex.

"Finally!" Deadpool cheered, throwing his hands in the air. "The rookie grows a spine. This is character development, people!"

A Sudden Shift

Before anyone could respond, the room seemed to ripple, the edges of reality bending and warping. The hum of the refrigerator turned into a low, distorted drone, and the lights flickered violently.

"What the hell?" Mother's Milk said, his voice tense.

Alex's system pinged frantically, flooding his vision with a new notification.

System Notification

[ALERT: TEMPORAL SHIFT DETECTED]

Current Time: Unknown

Reality Integrity: Unstable

The room stretched and twisted, the walls warping like liquid. For a moment, everything went silent. Then, with a jarring snap, the world shifted.

A Different Time

When the group regained their senses, they were no longer in Alex's apartment. Instead, they found themselves standing in the middle of a bustling 1940s street. Vintage cars rumbled down the road, their engines humming softly. Men in fedoras and women in stylish dresses walked briskly along the sidewalks, their conversations drowned out by the distant sound of jazz music.

"What the f*** just happened?" Butcher growled, his grip tightening on his crowbar.

"Looks like we took a trip down memory lane," Deadpool said, donning a fedora he'd swiped from a passerby. "Welcome to the past, folks! Population: us."

Hughie looked around in disbelief. "Is this... the 1940s?"

Alex checked his system, his heart pounding. The interface glitched slightly, the text flickering erratically.

System Update

[CURRENT YEAR: 1943]

Multiverse Status: Temporal Anomaly Detected

"This can't be real," Alex muttered.

"Oh, it's real," Deadpool said, grinning. "And look at these suits! Classy as hell. I might stay here. Live my best noir life. Call me Detective Pool."

Frenchie lit a cigarette, his eyes scanning the street. "I think we've seen enough. How do we get back?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know. The system isn't giving me any answers."

"Typical," Butcher said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Your magic system drags us into this s***show, and it's useless."

"Maybe it's broken," Hughie offered weakly.

"Oh, it's definitely broken," Deadpool said. "Just like this timeline. But hey, at least the music slaps."

The group stood awkwardly on the street corner, drawing curious looks from passersby.

"So," Deadpool said, clapping his hands. "Do we blend in? Or do we cause a paradox and see what happens?"

"Don't you dare," Alex said, glaring at him.

Deadpool winked. "No promises, kid."

As the scene faded to black, the sound of jazz grew louder, and the group braced themselves for whatever chaos awaited them in the past.