The Quinjet cut through the air with a sense of urgency, its engines humming as the Avengers prepared for their next steps. Bruce had joined them in the command room, poring over the glowing map Strange had conjured. It looked like a tangled mess of timelines, with fractures spreading across its surface like spiderweb cracks on glass.
Harley sat on one of the passenger seats, clutching his head. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and frustration. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing except him. What could he possibly contribute? He was just an ordinary guy—or so he thought.
Deadpool leaned against the bulkhead, flipping through an old Avengers pamphlet he'd found in the Quinjet. "Man, these guys had branding. They could've gone full Disney with this—theme parks, plush toys, the works." He paused, turning to Harley. "You think we're gonna get action figures after this? I want mine to come with kung-fu grip and a taco accessory."
"Wade, not now," Logan growled, sitting across from them with his arms crossed. His claws had been sheathed, but his face remained tense, his eyes scanning for anything out of place.
"Not now? That's your catchphrase, isn't it?" Deadpool shot back. He mimicked Logan's gruff voice, "'Not now, Wade.' 'Shut up, Wade.' 'Stop trying to put googly eyes on my claws, Wade.'"
Logan let out a low growl, and Deadpool grinned. "Relax, buddy. You're gonna give yourself wrinkles. Wait, too late!"
Natasha interrupted, her tone clipped. "Focus. We're about to arrive."
The Quinjet descended toward a crumbling cityscape. Buildings stood half-empty, their windows shattered. Streets once bustling with life were eerily quiet, save for the occasional car rusting in place. The aftermath of the Snap was a haunting sight, even five years later.
As they disembarked, a few stragglers on the streets noticed them. Their eyes widened at the sight of Strange in his cloak, but their expressions turned to confusion when they spotted Logan and Deadpool.
"Who are they supposed to be?" one man whispered to another.
"Cosplayers, maybe? They're a bit late for Comic-Con," the other replied.
Deadpool cupped his hands around his mouth. "Wrong! We're the Multiverse's Last Hope™. Catch the miniseries on Disney+—available for a very reasonable subscription fee!"
Logan smacked the back of Deadpool's head. "Can you go five minutes without running your mouth?"
"Sure, but where's the fun in that?" Deadpool retorted, rubbing the spot where Logan had hit him.
Harley couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, Wade's antics made the tense atmosphere a little more bearable.
Doctor Strange stepped forward, his cloak billowing as he surveyed the ruined streets. "We need to head to the Avengers Compound. Steve and Natasha should be there. They'll have resources we can use to track the disturbances."
The group followed Strange through the desolate streets. Harley lagged behind, lost in thought. He couldn't shake the feeling that something inside him was changing. Every time he felt afraid—or angry—there was a flicker of heat, like a small ember igniting in his chest.
As they approached the compound, the gates slid open with a creak. Inside, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were waiting, their expressions grim but curious.
"Doctor Strange," Steve greeted, shaking his hand. His eyes shifted to Logan and Deadpool. "And... guests?"
"Long story," Strange replied.
"Figures," Natasha muttered. Her gaze landed on Harley. "And who's this?"
"Harley," he said, awkwardly raising a hand. "Uh, I guess I'm the reason for... all this."
"Wonderful," Natasha deadpanned.
"Don't worry," Deadpool interjected, throwing an arm around Harley. "He's got a heart of gold. Also, probably some latent superpowers, because why else would the plot revolve around him?"
Natasha blinked. "Did he just...?"
"Don't ask," Logan and Strange said in unison.
Steve sighed. "Let's get inside. We need answers."
The group entered the compound's meeting room, where Bruce was already setting up a series of monitors. Strange projected the multiverse map onto the largest screen, its glowing fractures illuminating the room.
"These anomalies are spreading faster than I anticipated," Strange explained, pointing to a particularly unstable section. "If we don't act soon, entire universes could collapse."
Steve crossed his arms. "And you think Harley is at the center of this?"
Strange nodded. "I'm certain of it. Something about him is... different. He's connected to the multiverse in a way I've never seen before."
Harley's stomach sank. "Me? Why me?"
Deadpool leaned in. "Probably because you're the protagonist. Don't worry, though. The audience loves an underdog."
Natasha ignored him. "What do we do about it?"
Strange hesitated. "That's the part I haven't figured out yet."
"Great," Logan muttered. "So we're winging it."
"Essentially," Strange admitted.
As the group debated their next move, Harley felt that flicker inside him again—stronger this time. His hands trembled, and for a moment, faint tendrils of light sparked around his fingers. He quickly hid them, not wanting to draw attention.
Whatever was happening to him, he wasn't ready to face it. Not yet.
But deep down, he knew he wouldn't have a choice.