Chapter 11
Albedo's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding and his body aching as if he'd been run over by a freight train. The first thing he noticed was the cold, unyielding metal beneath him. He was seated in a steel chair, his arms and legs strapped down with heavy restraints that glowed faintly with an eerie blue light. His surroundings were stark and sterile—an interrogation room with gray walls, a single table bolted to the floor, and a bright overhead light that made the rest of the room feel even darker by contrast.
Across the table sat Wolverine.
The mutant's piercing gaze bore into Albedo, his rugged features unreadable but clearly hostile. His claws weren't out—yet—but the tension in the air made it clear they could appear at any moment. He sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture deceptively relaxed.
"Good, you're awake," Wolverine growled, his voice rough. "Saves me the trouble of waking you up myself."
Albedo blinked a few times, his mind racing as he took stock of the situation. His Ultimatrix wasn't responding, and the restraints were clearly designed to nullify his transformations. He tested them briefly, but they didn't budge. He was trapped, and Wolverine wasn't the type to offer an easy escape.
"Where am I?" Albedo asked, his voice hoarse but steady.
"In a hole you ain't getting out of," Wolverine replied bluntly. "Now let's skip the pleasantries and get to it. What's Doom planning? Where's he hiding?"
Albedo smirked faintly, despite the pain radiating through his body. "You think I'm just going to spill everything because you ask nicely?"
Wolverine leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing. "I don't ask nicely. I don't have to. You're going to tell me what I want to know, one way or another."
"Save yourself the trouble," Albedo said, his voice dripping with defiance. "I've faced worse than you, and I'm still standing."
"Not for long," Wolverine shot back. He tapped his claws against the table, the metallic sound echoing ominously. "You've got two choices. You can talk now, or we can do this the hard way."
Albedo met his gaze evenly. "The hard way, then."
Wolverine chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Figures. Doom's got you trained like a loyal dog. You think he cares about you? Think he's coming to save you?"
Albedo didn't respond, his silence deliberate.
Wolverine let out a low growl, his claws extending fully with a metallic snikt. "You're tough, I'll give you that. But you're not unbreakable."
Albedo raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "You think a few threats are going to make me talk? You're wasting your time."
Wolverine stood, the chair scraping against the floor as he loomed over Albedo. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? But I've got all day."
The room fell into a tense silence, the faint hum of the restraints the only sound. Albedo stared straight ahead, refusing to let Wolverine's presence intimidate him. His mind worked furiously, calculating his next move, but for now, all he could do was endure.
Wolverine's claws retracted with a smooth snikt, but the menace in his eyes didn't fade. He leaned forward, his fists pressing against the metal table, his knuckles whitening under the strain.
"You think you're tough, huh?" Wolverine growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts don't mean a damn thing when you're strapped down in a hole with no way out."
Albedo met his gaze with a steady, defiant glare. "You think I'm scared of you? I've faced creatures that would make you run for cover. You're not even in the top ten."
Wolverine's lips curled into a humorless grin. "Big words for someone who's tied up like a gift on Christmas morning."
He stood suddenly, the motion abrupt and aggressive. Albedo didn't flinch, though his body tensed instinctively. Wolverine paced around the room, his boots clanking on the metal floor as he sized up his captive.
"You've got nothing to gain by staying quiet," Wolverine said, his tone shifting to something almost conversational. "Doom doesn't care about you. You're just a pawn, a piece on his chessboard. And when he's done with you? He'll leave you in the dirt."
"Nice speech," Albedo said, his smirk unshaken. "Maybe next time you can try it without the condescension."
Wolverine stopped pacing, his claws extending again with that same sharp snikt. This time, he didn't just stand there—he moved, quick as a flash, slamming his fist onto the table just inches from Albedo's restrained hands. The claws dug into the surface, leaving deep gouges in the metal.
"You think this is a joke?" Wolverine snapped, his voice rising. "You think I won't get the answers I want?"
Albedo leaned back as far as the restraints would allow, his expression calm despite the tension in the air. "You can keep trying. It won't make a difference."
Wolverine's claws scraped against the table as he pulled them free, the sound shrill and grating. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. "You've got no powers, no backup, and no way out. Sooner or later, you're gonna break."
"Keep telling yourself that," Albedo shot back, his tone mocking. "Maybe it'll make you feel better about how little progress you're making."
That did it. Wolverine's claws retracted again, but this time, his fist shot forward, striking Albedo squarely in the jaw. The force of the blow snapped Albedo's head to the side, his vision momentarily swimming. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but when he looked back up, his eyes were still defiant.
"That all you've got?" Albedo said, his voice steady despite the pain. "I've been hit harder by children."
Wolverine's jaw tightened, his claws twitching as if he were seconds away from unleashing them again. Instead, he grabbed Albedo by the front of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart.
"You think you're clever," Wolverine hissed. "You think you can outlast me. But I've been at this a hell of a lot longer than you. You'll crack. They always do."
Albedo grinned through the blood on his lips. "You'll be waiting a long time, then."
Wolverine shoved him back into the chair with a frustrated growl, turning away and pacing again. His movements were sharper now, more aggressive, as though he were holding himself back from doing something he might regret.
"You're playing a dangerous game, kid," Wolverine said without turning around. "I've got no problem leaving you in here until you rot."
"Good," Albedo said. "It'll give me time to think of more ways to annoy you."
Wolverine froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing. Then, slowly, he turned back, his piercing gaze fixed on Albedo. The tension in the room thickened, the air charged with an almost tangible sense of danger.
The interrogation wasn't over, and both men knew it. But as far as Albedo was concerned, as long as he didn't break, he was still winning.
Wolverine loomed over Albedo, his claws retracted but his fists clenched tightly. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the restraints keeping Albedo in place. Despite the bruises forming on his face and the blood dripping from his split lip, Albedo wore a smirk that bordered on infuriating.
"You don't seem like the type to take orders," Albedo said casually, his voice laced with defiance. "What's it like, working for the Maker? Following someone else's script?"
Wolverine's eyes narrowed. "You don't know a damn thing about me."
"Oh, I know more than you think," Albedo replied, leaning back as much as his restraints would allow. "Paradox likes to share details about people. Like how you were a soldier, a loner, a weapon for hire. You've spent your entire life being used by others, haven't you?"
Wolverine tensed, his hands curling into fists. "You're walking a thin line, kid."
"But it's true, isn't it?" Albedo pressed on, his voice calm but cutting. "The government used you. SHIELD used you. And now the Maker is using you. Deep down, you know it. That's why you're so angry all the time—because no matter how hard you fight, you're still someone else's tool."
Wolverine's face darkened, his body stiffening as if he were holding himself back. "Keep talking, and you're gonna regret it."
Albedo's smirk widened. "You already regret it, don't you? You're not like the rest of them. You don't trust the Maker, but you stick around because you think it's the best option you've got. The truth is, you're afraid of what happens if you leave. What happens if you're wrong."
Wolverine's restraint snapped. With a snarl, he lashed out, his fist slamming into Albedo's face. The chair rocked under the force of the blow, the restraints keeping it bolted to the floor the only thing preventing it from toppling over.
"Shut up!" Wolverine barked, his voice a guttural growl as he struck Albedo again.
Albedo's head snapped back, blood splattering against the cold metal floor, but he laughed through the pain. "Did I hit a nerve? Guess I was right."
Wolverine's claws extended with a metallic snikt, and he grabbed Albedo by the collar, yanking him forward. "You've got no idea who you're messing with," he snarled. His claws hovered inches from Albedo's throat, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"That's enough," a voice interrupted, cold and commanding.
Wolverine froze, his claws retracting instantly. Slowly, he released Albedo and stepped back, his shoulders tense as he turned toward the door. The Maker stood there, his sharp gaze locked onto the scene before him. His presence was unnerving, his expression calm but radiating an air of absolute control.
"Logan," the Maker said, his voice low but dripping with authority, "leave us."
Wolverine hesitated for a moment, his frustration evident, but he obeyed, storming out of the room without another word. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Albedo alone with the Maker.
The Maker stepped into the room, his movements precise and deliberate. He reached into his coat and produced a small, sleek device, which he placed on the table between them. With a single tap, it emitted a faint pulse of light, and the hum of the room's surveillance system abruptly ceased.
"No one will hear us now," the Maker said, his voice calm and clinical. His gaze rested on Albedo, sharp and calculating. "I find it's always better to have certain conversations without unnecessary… ears."
Albedo, still restrained and battered, raised an eyebrow. "How considerate of you."
The Maker ignored the sarcasm, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him. "You're quite the anomaly," he began, his tone almost conversational. "You're not from this world, yet you've managed to cause a significant disruption in a remarkably short amount of time. I must admit, I'm impressed."
"Glad to know I've caught your attention," Albedo said, his voice steady despite his injuries. "What do you want?"
The Maker tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Oh, the question isn't what I want. It's what you think you're doing. You've aligned yourself with Victor von Doom, of all people, and you've managed to gather a motley crew of would-be heroes to challenge me. Do you genuinely believe you stand a chance?"
Albedo smirked, despite the pain in his jaw. "What's the matter? Feeling threatened?"
The Maker leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze never leaving Albedo. "Hardly. But I do find you… intriguing. It's rare to meet someone who can match my intellect, even tangentially. Most of the so-called heroes in this world are disappointingly simple-minded. Doom, for all his bluster, is predictable. But you? You're different."
Albedo studied the Maker carefully, noting the slight annoyance flickering beneath his calm exterior. "You're not used to being challenged," Albedo said, testing the waters. "It bothers you, doesn't it? That someone out there is playing on the same board as you."
The Maker's smile thinned, and for a moment, the room grew colder. "I've dealt with interference before," he said, his tone clipped. "Celestial and magical influences are nothing new to me. What's frustrating is the inefficiency of it all. I've accounted for nearly every variable, yet these… disruptions persist."
"So you don't know how to stop it," Albedo said, his tone deliberately probing.
The Maker's expression darkened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. "Not yet," he admitted, his voice smooth. "But I will. It's only a matter of time."
Albedo leaned forward as much as his restraints allowed, meeting the Maker's gaze with unwavering confidence. "You sound pretty sure of yourself. But if you were so confident, you wouldn't need to be sitting here, trying to figure me out."
The Maker chuckled softly, a sound that was both amused and condescending. "Oh, I already have you figured out. You're a displaced genius, driven by a need to prove yourself. You've allied with Doom because you believe it gives you purpose, but deep down, you know it's a futile effort. You're fighting a battle you can't win."
"And yet, here we are," Albedo countered. "You've gone through all this trouble to capture me, to interrogate me. If I'm as insignificant as you think, why bother?"
The Maker's smile returned, colder this time. "Because even the smallest disruption can ripple into chaos if left unchecked. I don't underestimate my enemies, no matter how small or temporary their threat may be."
Albedo's eyes narrowed. "So you do see me as a threat."
The Maker leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I see you as a curiosity. A problem to be solved. And once I've unraveled your role in all this, you'll find that even the most clever minds can be rendered… irrelevant."
Albedo smirked faintly, though his mind raced as he absorbed the Maker's words. "If you're so certain of your victory, why are you still playing games? Why not end this now?"
"Because I enjoy the game," the Maker replied, his voice almost a whisper. "And because you might still prove useful. For now."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between them. Albedo could see the calculation in the Maker's eyes, the constant analysis behind every word and gesture. It was a battle of wits, and though he was restrained, Albedo refused to back down. For now, he would continue to dig for any weakness he could exploit.
The Maker's calm demeanor cracked ever so slightly as he leaned forward, his fingers steepled. The coldness in his eyes hinted at the brewing storm beneath his controlled exterior. Albedo noticed it, the faint glimmer of anger barely restrained.
"You talk a good game," Albedo began, his voice sharp. "But I've read about you—or at least, versions of you. Reed Richards, the smartest man in the room. A leader, a hero, the kind of person who inspires others to greatness."
The Maker's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing, allowing Albedo to continue.
"And yet here you are," Albedo pressed, leaning as far forward as his restraints would allow. "The outlier. The Reed Richards who didn't just fall from grace but hurled himself into the abyss. You're a villain in your own world, hated by people who call you family in every other universe. A failure."
The Maker's eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity, but his voice remained calm, almost detached. "It's fascinating," he said softly, "how those who stand on shaky ground feel compelled to hurl stones."
Albedo smirked, undeterred. "Oh, I know I'm no saint. But at least I didn't have it all and throw it away. You had power, influence, a family that trusted you, and you destroyed it. All because what? You couldn't handle not being in control?"
The Maker's fingers tightened slightly, the first physical indication of his growing irritation. He leaned forward, his voice sharp but steady. "You assume much for someone so woefully out of their depth. Do you think my choices were made lightly? That I didn't weigh every possibility, every outcome? I didn't fall, Albedo. I transcended."
Albedo snorted. "Transcended? Is that what you tell yourself at night when the echoes of everything you've ruined keep you awake? Face it, Maker, you're a tragic cliché—a hero who turned into the very thing they once fought against."
The Maker's expression darkened further, and for a moment, Albedo thought he'd pushed too far. But then the Maker leaned back in his chair, a faint smile curling his lips. "You're amusing, Albedo," he said, his voice low. "But let's not pretend your pedestal is any higher."
Albedo's smirk faltered slightly, and the Maker's smile grew sharper. "You talk of family, of betrayal, as if you're not intimately familiar with both. Let's not forget your own choices—the lies you told, the alliances you broke. You tried to replace Ben Tennyson, to steal the life you thought you deserved. And in the process, you alienated everyone who might have stood by you. You're no hero, Albedo. You're a shadow, desperately clawing for a light that was never yours."
Albedo's crimson eyes narrowed, the Maker's words cutting deeper than he expected. "That's different," he said, his voice tight. "I was trying to—"
"To what?" the Maker interrupted, his voice sharp and biting. "Prove your worth? Prove you were better? And yet, here you are, doing the same thing again. Only now, it's not Ben Tennyson you're trying to surpass—it's me."
The room fell into a tense silence, the two men locked in a battle of wills. Albedo refused to look away, even as the Maker's words echoed in his mind, striking at insecurities he'd tried to bury.
"You see," the Maker continued, his voice softening into something almost conversational, "you and I are not so different. We both believe we're the smartest person in the room. We both know what it's like to be cast out, misunderstood, underestimated. The difference is, I've embraced it. I've stopped pretending to be something I'm not."
Albedo's jaw tightened, his mind racing for a retort. But before he could speak, the Maker leaned in closer, his gaze piercing. "So tell me, Albedo. How long before you do the same?"
The Maker stood, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the sterile room. His faint smirk remained, a mixture of amusement and condescension. "You can keep fighting, Albedo," he said, his voice smooth and dripping with mockery. "Throw every plan, every resource you have against me. Do your best. I welcome the challenge—it's rare I get to entertain myself with someone who thinks they're playing on my level."
Albedo's eyes narrowed, his body restrained but his mind racing. "You've underestimated me before," he shot back, his tone steady despite the restraints. "Keep doing it, and I'll be the one who tears down everything you've built."
The Maker chuckled softly, a sound devoid of humor. "Underestimate? Hardly. I know exactly what you're capable of, Albedo. That's why I haven't killed you yet. You're an intriguing variable, and I like to keep my collection complete." He tapped the table twice, signaling the end of the conversation. "Take him to his cell."
The door hissed open, and Wolverine and Storm entered. Wolverine's expression was a mixture of irritation and reluctance, while Storm's was unreadable, her calm demeanor masking whatever thoughts lingered beneath the surface.
"Let's go," Wolverine said gruffly, stepping forward to unlock the restraints. He grabbed Albedo's arm roughly, hauling him to his feet.
Albedo didn't resist but instead smirked faintly, his crimson eyes locking onto the Maker's as he was dragged away. "Enjoy your little victory, Maker," he said, his voice steady and deliberate. "Every empire falls, and yours will be no exception. When it does, I'll be there to watch."
The Maker said nothing, his faint smile unwavering as he turned away, leaving the room without another glance. Wolverine grunted, tightening his grip on Albedo's arm as they moved down the corridor.
As Albedo was escorted through the facility, his eyes darted around, taking in every detail. The corridors were lined with reinforced steel walls, and the faint hum of high-tech surveillance systems buzzed in the background. Guards armed with advanced weaponry patrolled the halls, their movements precise and coordinated. Occasionally, Albedo caught glimpses of other prisoners through small windows—figures hunched in their cells, some resigned, others quietly plotting.
Storm walked silently beside them, her presence regal but distant. She glanced at Albedo briefly, her expression unreadable, but said nothing. Wolverine, on the other hand, was far less reserved. "You got guts, I'll give you that," he muttered. "But guts don't mean squat in this place."
Albedo ignored him, his mind focused on analyzing everything he could. The guards' formations, the cameras' blind spots, the location of the main control panel—every observation was cataloged and stored for later use.
They finally reached a heavy steel door at the end of the corridor. Wolverine entered a code on the keypad, and the door slid open with a hiss. Inside was a bare cell—stark, cold, and sterile. A single cot was bolted to the wall, and the faint hum of energy fields confirmed that escape would be anything but straightforward.
Wolverine shoved Albedo forward, forcing him into the cell. "Get comfortable," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You're gonna be here a while."
Albedo stumbled slightly but caught himself, standing tall as the door slid shut behind him. He turned, his crimson eyes scanning the room methodically. The walls were reinforced with a strange alloy, likely to prevent tampering or brute-force escapes. The energy field around the perimeter was faint but detectable, its presence tingling against his skin.
He sat on the cot, his mind already working on possibilities. Every detail mattered, and every detail brought him closer to his next move.
Albedo leaned back against the cot, his crimson eyes sweeping over the prison corridor, taking in every detail. The power dampeners hummed softly, embedded in the corners of the walls like ever-watchful sentinels. The guards patrolled with mechanical precision, their movements almost unnervingly synchronized. The whole facility was a fortress, designed to hold beings far more powerful than the average human.
Across from him, Luke Cage sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, his unbreakable skin catching the faint light. He looked calm on the surface, but Albedo noticed the way Cage's fingers tapped lightly against his knee—a subtle sign of frustration or anticipation.
Albedo's gaze moved to the next cell down, where a figure sat partially in shadow. A man with a mechanical arm, his gaze sharp and calculating. The Winter Soldier. His metal fingers tapped against the cot's frame rhythmically, as if waiting for the perfect moment to act.
His mind churned with possibilities. The power dampeners would need to be neutralized, and an EMP could be the key. The challenge would be constructing one under constant surveillance. Albedo began mentally cataloging the materials he'd seen so far—guard equipment, the dampeners themselves, and even the tech embedded in the walls.
"New guy," Luke Cage said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was low but carried easily across the corridor. "What's your story?"
Albedo turned his head, meeting Cage's gaze. "Albedo," he said simply. "And let's just say I didn't agree with the Maker's vision for the world."
Luke huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that's how most of us got here."
"Most?" Albedo asked, his tone probing.
"Not all of us," the Winter Soldier chimed in from his cell, his voice carrying a faint edge. "Some of us were just inconvenient truths the Maker wanted to bury."
Albedo smirked faintly. "Seems to be a habit of his."
Luke leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on his knees. "You planning to do something about it, Albedo? Or are you just passing through like the rest of us?"
Albedo met his gaze evenly. "I don't plan to stay here long."
Luke's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "Good answer."
Before Albedo could respond, movement from a nearby cell caught his attention. The faintest shift of light revealed another figure, one he hadn't noticed before. She stepped forward slowly, her red hair catching the dim glow of the dampeners. Her sharp, piercing gaze locked onto him, and Albedo's breath hitched for a moment.
Jean Grey.
Her presence was unmistakable, though she looked nothing like the controlled, poised telepath he'd read about. Her eyes held a quiet intensity, and there was a faint shadow of something darker lingering beneath her calm exterior. She didn't speak, simply watching him with a look that felt like she was peeling back every layer of his thoughts.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Albedo said quietly, his voice steady despite the revelation.
Jean's lips curved into a faint smile, but her gaze remained piercing. "And you're an anomaly," she said, her voice soft but laced with power. "I wonder… what are you really doing here?"
Albedo didn't answer immediately, his mind racing as he met her gaze. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but he knew the real challenge was only beginning.