Elsewhere, Dean and Sam had been trailing Pierce's convoy all the way through the night and into the next afternoon, until they finally arrived at their destination — the Essex Corporation.
Worried that their tailing would be discovered, the brothers played it safe. Sam rented a regular sedan to follow from a distance, while Dean took their iconic Black Impala on a separate route to converge later.
Pierce and his Ravagers had successfully captured and contained the Pyrokinetic mutant. They brought him to a private hospital — a medical facility owned by Essex Corp, originally meant for internal diagnostics and treatment. However, after Essex's covert dealings with the U.S. government regarding mutant gene experiments were exposed, the place had supposedly been shut down.
Supposedly.
When Sam saw Pierce's group secretly smuggling the cryo-chamber — the one containing Pyro — through a back entrance, it all made sense.
His past experiences told him loud and clear: any "closed" building with secret deliveries was hiding something much deeper.
"I'm in position," Sam said into the phone, adjusting his sunglasses as he looked through the windshield toward the hospital building in the distance.
"Our theory checks out. Essex Corp is still running something shady. I think they've shifted focus… now they're experimenting on cross-dimensional mutants — the ones who've crossed over from another universe."
Almost immediately, Dean's voice came through the speaker.
(Don't do anything reckless. I'll be there in ten minutes. Until then, sit tight. These guys aren't amateurs — their backing runs deep.)
"I know," Sam replied seriously.
He understood better than anyone that for these mercenaries, killing was second nature. Especially with government support backing their operations, they were becoming more ruthless than ever.
Storming the facility without proper recon would be suicide. It wasn't just about losing the upper hand — he could easily end up dead, and no one would ever find out. So after hanging up, Sam made a tactical retreat. He drove a little farther and parked near a coffee shop. Inside, he ordered a drink and grabbed something to eat.
He hadn't eaten since they started tailing Pierce. The constant tension had kept him running on adrenaline, but now, lingering too long in a parked car near a supposedly shut-down hospital was bound to draw attention. So this — sitting casually in a café, waiting for Dean — was safer.
Soon, his coffee and snack were brought to the table by a waiter. Sam gave a polite nod of thanks and prepared to finally relax, take a bite, and clear his head. But then — his phone buzzed.
He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID.
The name on the screen made him freeze.
The incoming call was from none other than Alex — the same Alex they hadn't been able to reach for days. Sam didn't hesitate. He picked up immediately.
"Hello? Alex?"
"It's me."
Far away in New York, Alex stood atop the rooftop of the Sanctum Sanctorum, gazing down at the ancient building cloaked in protective enchantments. He held his phone to his ear and spoke.
"I've been inside a special place this whole time — the Sanctum Sanctorum. Rings a bell?"
"Doctor Strange's secret base? Yeah, I've read his comics," Sam nodded to himself, instantly piecing together why Alex's phone had been unreachable earlier.
And just as he guessed, Alex offered the explanation.
"Exactly. The place is protected by some kind of ancient magic, so there's zero cell reception inside. I only saw your missed calls and texts after I came up to the rooftop."
"I even pinged you through the app. Didn't you see that either?" Sam clicked his tongue. "Don't tell me that was also blocked by some ancient mystical force?"
"Oh…"
Alex let out a helpless sigh.
"Not quite. The place has been abandoned for a while. I'm guessing the Wi-Fi's been shut off for ages — probably didn't even have internet installed back when it was still active. Ever since I came in here, I haven't seen a single bar of signal."
"Uh… right." Sam's mouth twitched at that, but he quickly refocused, eyes narrowing. "Wait, did you just say it was abandoned?"
Hearing that, Alex's expression turned serious. He slowly walked to the edge of the Sanctum Sanctorum's rooftop, his gaze falling on the dried, blackened bloodstains along the railing. Nearby, two human skeletons lay silently. After a pause, he spoke.
"The Sanctum Sanctorum was heavily damaged. We still haven't identified who attacked it—but I detected traces of dark magic here. Miss Minutes confirmed the energy signature. My guess? It was the work of dark sorcerers."
"What? The Sanctum was destroyed? What about Doctor Strange!?" Sam's voice was full of disbelief. In his mind, Doctor Strange was easily one of the most powerful figures in the Marvel Universe.
"I'm afraid there is no Doctor Strange in this world, Sam," Alex said quietly, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "I found Wong's journal here. Based on the last entry, this place was abandoned as early as the year 2000. As for Stephen Strange… it seems he never got the chance to become a sorcerer at all."
Yes. The body Alex had found slumped lifelessly in a chair, facing away from the door—that was Wong. In other timelines, he would have been Doctor Strange's closest companion and successor as the Sorcerer Supreme. But here, he was just a cold, forgotten corpse.
After reading through Wong's final entries, Alex was left shaken. He hadn't expected this world to be so twisted, so fundamentally wrong.
Wong hadn't died instantly after the Sanctum was attacked. It appeared he—or perhaps some other magical guardian—had unleashed a devastating counterspell. Whatever they did, it had cost them everything to repel the invaders. Wong was mortally wounded in the process. And before the end came, Wong wrote everything down.
Holding the journal tightly in his hands, Alex spoke grimly into the phone.
"I've found some key evidence here. Someone's been tampering with this world's timeline from the shadows. The Sorcerer Supreme—The Ancient One—sensed it too. He crossed timelines herself, hoping to uncover the truth. But from what I can tell now… He failed."
"The Ancient One could cross timelines?"
"He used the Time Stone," Alex confirmed. "I'm not sure how he acquired it, but I know this—once he activated its power and entered the timestream, He never returned."
Alex closed his eyes briefly, then continued.
"And with him gone, the timeline was left defenseless. That's probably what led the dark sorcerers to target the Sanctum in the first place."
Wong's journal seemed meant to serve as a warning to any sorcerer—intentional or accidental—who might one day stumble upon the ruined Sanctum. But decades had passed, and no one had come. There was no sign that the mystical traditions had even survived outside its walls. With humanity oppressing mutants so viciously, it was possible that even sorcerers had been swept up in that wave of persecution.
In the end, that journal—Wong's final record—had fallen into Alex's hands.
"I can say it with certainty now," Alex said quietly, standing on the ruined rooftop of the Sanctum Sanctorum, fingers tightening around the worn leather cover, "this world was never meant to be just the world of the X-Men. Originally, the Avengers were supposed to be here too. Along with other heroes. But the timeline's been altered... and they've been erased from it."
Guilt gnawed at him. For the first time, he understood the thing he'd been unconsciously ignoring all along. This world—they were in the 20th Century Fox Universe. But it was still part of the Marvel Multiverse.
People—mutants, humans, heroes—living here had no concept of "intellectual property rights." They didn't know their existence had been separated into studios and contracts. To them, their world was real. History moved forward as it should—until someone, or something, changed it.
Pollution from higher dimensions hadn't simply wiped out the other heroes—it had rewritten them. The timeline had been rethreaded. Origins altered. Entire legacies buried in forgotten history. Quietly, insidiously, with precision.
Those scenes you never saw. Those little inconsistencies and Easter eggs hidden in the background of films. All of them were traces left by higher-dimensional interference—subtle fingerprints of the cosmic contamination spreading through the multiverse.
You thought this was the "X-Men Universe" created by 20th Century Fox. But in truth, it was just one branch of the vast Marvel Multiverse. A reality where, somehow, the Avengers and other heroes had been overwritten. Their origin stories tampered with.
Alex didn't know who had started it.
At first, he suspected the Dark Watchers—those cryptic beings lurking beyond time. He had wondered which part of the timeline they'd tampered with. Why the timeline didn't ripple when such major events had clearly changed. But now he understood: the Watchers weren't the culprits. This wasn't their doing.
This... this was contamination from the higher-dimensional realm—an infection seeded by a vast, unknowable Will from his original world. Even the Ancient One hadn't been able to fight it. Even He couldn't hold back that kind of power.
As for the Dark Watchers? They hadn't corrupted this world. They'd simply discovered it. With his help.
And now Alex had only one burning question: What do They want?
...
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