Chapter 377: Deadpool — "I'm Done Acting! I'm On Strike!"
Hearing Ethan's calm, unwavering threat, something in Cassandra's chest felt like it had been struck by a hammer. She fought to hold her composure on the surface, but her inner defenses were already crumbling.
Her psychological resilience, it turned out, wasn't especially strong.
Back in the Void, her overwhelming power meant almost nobody dared defy her — and anyone who had was already dead by her own hand.
That kind of strength had let Cassandra do whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased. This was the first time in her life she'd ever actually lost her power.
Being reduced to something helpless, at someone else's mercy — the feeling was almost unbearable.
What terrified her most was that she couldn't leave. This memory-space had been her own creation, and yet somehow she'd lost all control over it, trapped inside her own construction. The irony of it was almost too much.
And the man responsible for all of this stood right in front of her: Ethan.
"What exactly do you want from me?" Cassandra glared at Ethan, still calmly sipping his tea, which only stoked her fury further. Composure like that was supposed to be her thing.
Watching Cassandra unravel, Ethan found himself losing interest fast. He'd expected some genuinely formidable enemy — and here she was, older than Professor X himself, with the emotional stability of a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. Honestly, dealing with this old woman didn't even feel worth the effort anymore.
Right then, a gentle, guilt-tinged voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "It's all right. Mr. Ethan won't hurt you here." Professor X spoke slowly, something complicated flickering in his eyes — sympathy toward Cassandra, mixed with guilt over how their identities had just come to light. "Would you be willing to talk with me? About you, about me, about... the blood between us."
He'd reached middle age without ever knowing he had a sister at all — the thought alone filled him with a quiet, aching guilt.
"Ethan! This lady's bullying me, get her! Avenge me! You have NO idea — bald people are all psychopaths, she literally peeled my skin off, flesh and all! You almost lost me forever!" Hell's Deadpool wailed from the sidelines.
"All right, all right, calm down. My actual body should be coming to pick you two up soon enough." Ethan hadn't seen Deadpool in a while, but the man clearly hadn't changed one bit — still just as shameless, still just as suicidally reckless.
"You'd better be nice to the Ancient One when you say that — my actual body's over there training with her right now. Watch it, or I'll tattle," Strange added, teasing.
"Fascinating. So this is what a memory-space actually looks like?" Thor looked around, genuinely curious.
More and more people kept striking up casual conversation inside the memory-space.
Cassandra stared, dumbfounded, watching familiar face after familiar face chatting away like none of this was unusual at all — whatever composure she'd finally managed to scrape back together took another direct hit.
"WHAT KIND OF ABSURD WORLD DOES THIS DEADPOOL COME FROM?!"
Had she just been stuck in the Void too long, falling out of touch with how things worked now?
A world this bizarre — could it be that some new technology existed for defending against psychic intrusion? She leaned toward that theory.
She was certain her powers were unbeatable, unstoppable, in every world she'd ever encountered — the trophies she'd amassed back in the Void proved it beyond doubt.
"That has to be it. I'm the most powerful mutant alive! There's nothing wrong with my ability — this is all just an illusion. Wake up, wake UP, I need to find a way out of this godforsaken memory-space as fast as possible!" Cassandra kept slapping herself, trying to snap out of it.
Ethan watched the whole scene, throwing Professor X a strange look, as if to say he'd never expected your sister to have a hobby like this.
Honestly, even Ethan himself was genuinely surprised. Regaining independent consciousness inside a memory-space, whether now or eventually, required reaching multiversal-tier power.
Ethan looked around and realized just how many people had actually done it. Wanda didn't surprise him — but Professor X, Magneto, Strange, Thor, Tony, even Kingpin had all regained awareness here too.
In most parallel universes, multiversal-tier beings existed sure — but out of ten thousand variants of any given person, you'd be lucky to find even one who crossed into that tier.
And yet Hell's Kitchen apparently had this many people on track to reach it eventually. It left Ethan quietly impressed all over again at just how strong his own faction genuinely was.
(MOTHER F**KER. Seriously, you shameless hack of an author — you just decide whatever power level they've got and slap it on them, huh? I QUIT. Garbage company! Can't you just give ME the god-mode cheat code for once? Being the comic relief every single day is exhausting as hell!) The mainstream Deadpool ripped off his mask, hurled it to the ground in fury. He was officially on strike.
(What's the point of writing me as ugly, broke, AND pathetic? I'm literally in my thirties and living with some blind old lady roommate. I've had ENOUGH. I QUIT!!) The mainstream Deadpool's grievances kept piling up, resentment boiling over.
(Hey, author, let's talk. In the movies I'm not exactly living the dream either, so how about you rewrite my whole deal in THIS novel? Make me a billionaire, give me a happy life with Vanessa, and while you're at it, fix my face back to normal too — or else, deal with the consequences yourself, because I'm officially on strike. Might as well go cameo for DC instead. Sure, Gotham's a little dark and gloomy, but at least everybody over there's actually TALENTED, and they've got some class. I bet Bruce Wayne could use a guy like me.)
With that, the mainstream-universe Deadpool prepared to smash straight through the fourth wall and walk off entirely.
Wolverine, unaware his partner had just abandoned the whole scene, kept pushing forward — the two Wolverines were still hard at work. Hell's Kitchen's own Wolverine had snatched Juggernaut's helmet and hurled it up to the second floor.
Yellow-suit X-Men Wolverine caught it cleanly and jammed it straight onto Cassandra's head.
Instantly, her telepathy shut off completely, reducing her to an ordinary woman.
"Huff. Huff. Huff." Cassandra, oddly enough, came back to reality gasping for breath — a small mercy, all things considered.
Exploring Deadpool's memory-space had genuinely taken a toll on her.
Powerless as she now was, though, Cassandra showed no real panic. If anything, her tone turned almost playful as she addressed Wolverine.
"Hahahaha — thanks for that, boys. But if you actually want to get back to your own world, you're going to have to take that helmet right back off. Without my powers, there's no way I can send any of you home!"
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