The car engine hummed softly as Arthur drove, a slightly amused smile on his face. He glanced in the rearview mirror, where Liam, his eight-year-old nephew, was staring at the bag on the seat with his eyes shining with excitement. Inside was the Deadpool costume Arthur had agreed to wear to the event, after much insistence from the boy.
"Uncle Arthur, you promised you'd wear it!" Liam insisted, leaning forward a little more, as if about to jump with excitement.
"I promised, I promised..." Arthur laughed. "But you'll have to take responsibility if I embarrass myself in this outfit, huh? You'll be the most embarrassed nephew at the whole event."
Liam laughed carelessly, joy etched on his face. "You'll look awesome, Uncle! Just like a real superhero!"
Arthur sighed, pretending to be reluctant, and fist-bumped the boy. "Alright, champ, for you, I'll even take on the role of Deadpool."
As soon as they parked, he helped Liam adjust his mask, receiving an excited smile in return. They got out of the car and started walking along the busy sidewalk. Arthur kept a firm hand on the boy's shoulder as Liam looked around, eager to get to the event and see other cosplayers.
But then, something unusual caught his attention - a loud sound, like scraping metal. Arthur looked to the side and saw a runaway truck coming towards them. The driver seemed to have completely lost control, and the vehicle was approaching too fast for any normal reaction. Instinct took over: he pushed Liam behind the nearest pole and positioned himself as a shield in front of the boy.
"Stay there, kid!" was all he managed to say before impact.
The blow was brutal, and Arthur felt the pain invade his body. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was his nephew's frightened face, and then... nothing.
Arthur awoke to a strange feeling of numbness. The air around him was dense, heavy with a cold he could barely describe. He slowly got up, feeling the dampness of the snow beneath him, and looked around. He was in a white plain, endless as far as the eye could see, with the opaque sky above, gray as steel.
He looked down at his own body and saw himself wearing the Deadpool costume - the same one he had put on to accompany Liam. But something was different. The material, which previously seemed like any ordinary costume, was now resistant, perfectly adjusted to his body, as if it had been made for combat. He raised his hand and, noticing the weight on his back, pulled out one of the swords he was carrying. The glint of the blade, sharp and real, made his heart beat faster. This wasn't the kind of thing you expect to wake up to in a snowfield.
"Okay... I've watched weird movies before, but this is surpassing everything," he muttered to himself, looking around. "Where did I end up?"
Arthur took a few steps, testing his own movements. Strangely, he felt stronger, more agile, as if his body had been enhanced in some way. And the cold - or rather, the lack of it - bothered his logic. There he was, in a place that looked like a frozen desert, and he didn't feel the slightest discomfort from the temperature.
He stopped, trying to understand what it meant. The idea was almost impossible to process, but something deep down in his mind was starting to make sense, a terrifying and yet strangely realistic notion. He had died. It could only be that. And now he was in... another place.
"This doesn't make sense... or does it?" He stopped, reflecting, and a sudden sadness hit him like a wave of ice. The last thing he saw was Liam's frightened look, the nephew he had promised to protect. Arthur ran a hand over his face, feeling the tightness in his chest. If Liam had escaped, his sister, at least, wouldn't lose her son. But he...
"Oh, Alice... my sister's going to freak out," he murmured to the wind. "Well... at least I saved the kid. Something good, right?"
He took a deep breath, trying to push away the sadness and bring his thoughts to the present. "Right, Arthur, focus. It's not time to be mourning. You need to know where you are."
An idea suddenly occurred to him. If his body had really changed, he needed to test it. On impulse, he grabbed one of the swords and made a small cut on his arm. The pain was instantaneous but disappeared quickly, and the skin closed in a matter of seconds, leaving no trace.
"Oh, that's... that's incredible." Arthur laughed to himself, a nervous laugh. "So I got the full package, didn't I?"
The silence around him was absolute, but it was soon broken. Heavy, shuffling, rhythmic footsteps were coming from the opposite direction, as if something large and inhuman was approaching. Arthur stopped, his senses alert, as adrenaline began to course through his veins. His body automatically prepared for whatever it was.
He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on the mist ahead, his hand ready on his sword. The sound continued, getting closer and closer, and something in the air told him that this was nothing friendly. Arthur took a deep breath, his fingers firm on the hilt of the weapon, but a strange feeling - of excitement and determination - began to take over his mind. Whatever it was, he was ready to face it.
A shadowy figure began to take shape in the dense fog, advancing with steady steps and a silent movement. Arthur narrowed his eyes, trying to identify what was approaching.
Then, he saw it. A wolf, but not just any wolf - the creature was huge, with eyes glowing like embers and fur as white as the surrounding snow. It emerged from the mist, ears erect and posture majestic, stopping to stare directly at him.
Arthur remained motionless, his heart pounding, feeling the weight of the creature's gaze upon him.