The Ancient One's golden eyes softened as she addressed the white-haired girl flickering across the monitors. "Now, young lady," she said, her voice warm as sunlight through stained glass, "can you show us where your father is?"
Behind her, Logan and Michelle exchanged glances. To them, this was just a digital projection—a sophisticated AI. But the Ancient One knew. She saw the truth shimmering beneath Magina's code: a soul, brilliant and fierce, woven from equal parts magic and technology. A miracle. A daughter.
Magina's crimson eyes narrowed. "I know who you are," she said, her voice crisp despite the slight warble of speakers. "But why are you here?"
"I believe, me and my father had never once attracted you and your kind attention, Ancient One," Magina knew the threat that comes with her. Magina recognized Ancient One instantly when she laid eyes on her, the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, the Leader of Kamar-Taj, Magina were shocked by the appearance of the strongest magic wielder in the universe, and naturally wary of her.
The monitors flickered as subroutines activated. Backup protocols. Contingencies. Magina's consciousness splintered, scattering copies of herself across the internet like seeds in the wind. Should the Sorcerer Supreme make one wrong move, this entire base would become a tomb—for all of them.
The Ancient One raised her hands, palms out. "I swear on my life, I'm only here to help. Isn't bringing Michelle and Logan proof enough of my goodwill?"
Silence. Then—
"Alright. I understand."
But the base's systems remained armed. Hidden explosives hummed to life in the walls. Magina might play along, but she was still her father's child—trust didn't come easy.
Logan, ever the blunt one, jabbed a claw at the screen. "Kiddo, if you're his kid, why you look like a damn hologram?"
"Mr. Logan—" Magina began, but the Ancient One smoothly interjected.
"She is his daughter," the sorceress said, her voice dropping into the cadence of a storyteller weaving a tragedy. "But when she was just a girl, the same monsters who hurt The Wraith took her too. Experimented on her. Left her body broken, her mind trapped in a coma..."
Magina or The Wraith daughter were raising by her father alone, both were kidnapped and experimented on. The Wraith who survived and managed to escape, dive straight to find Magina again, only to found her comatose. Hence in desperation, The Wraith decides to upload her consciousness into digital form, whilst he was currently working hard to find a cure for her comatose physical body.
Michelle's breath hitched. Due to the sudden sad story,
"Her father refused to accept that," the Ancient One continued. "So, he did the impossible. He gave her a new home—here, in the digital world—while he searches for a way to heal her flesh."
Logan's cigar had gone out. He stared at the tiny figure on the screens, his usual gruffness replaced by something quieter. "Damn," he muttered. "What a shitty world we live in."
Tears-streaked Michelle's cheeks. "That's... that's horrible."
The Ancient One, however, caught Magina's eye—and winked. The girl's digital lips twitched. Just slightly. Magina's digital eyes flickered as she processed the Ancient One's fabricated backstory. Unwarranted, she thought. The sorceress had softened the blows, painting her father in sympathetic hues for their audience. A manipulation—but not an unkind one.
Michelle's sobs filled the sterile air. "No wonder he's so hard on himself..." she whispered, gazing at Magina with tearful pity.
Seizing the moment, Magina leaned into the role. "Father is always working hard for me," she said, her voice deliberately small. "It's sad that I can't help him more."
The words landed like stones. Logan's jaw tightened, his usual gruffness giving way to something darker. Michelle pressed a hand to her mouth, fresh tears spilling over.
"Don't worry, kid," Logan said, stubbing out his cigar with more force than necessary. "We'll get your father the help he needs. Just point us to him."
Magina hesitated. "I'll show you. But... don't misunderstand what you see."
The lights above the surgical theater flickered on. The revelation was grotesque.
At the center of the hall, strapped to a metal table, lay Dietrich Voss. His torso had been flayed open, the skin pinned back like some macabre dissection project. Ribs gleamed white under the harsh lights. Organs pulsed—still functioning—beneath a thin membrane of preserved tissue.
Logan's nose wrinkled. "...Is that man still alive?"
"I believe so," the Ancient One murmured.
Michelle took one look—at the beating heart, the twitching lungs—and spun away, retching violently.
Magina's voice echoed calmly through the speakers: "Dietrich Voss. HYDRA's Director for New York. Responsible for illegal meta-human experimentation, mass kidnappings, and countless murders." A pause. "He also personally oversaw the torture of my father... and me."
The unspoken justification hung heavy in the air. He deserved this.
Logan's growled, Voss evil deed just made him gnarl in anger. "Where's your dad, kid?"
"There."
Their eyes followed Magina's direction—to the northern shadows of the hall.
At first, nothing. Then—
—a shift in the darkness.
A figure emerged, moving with the eerie stillness of a predator.
Sai Morvayne aka The Wraith, or what was left of him.
Blood crusted his face, his clothes, his hands. His eyes—once sharp with cunning—were hollow pits. The scalpel in his grip glinted wetly under the lights.
"Oh shit," Logan breathed. "That... doesn't look good."
It wasn't just the blood.
It was the way Sai stood—like a marionette with cut strings. The way his fingers twitched around the scalpel, as if aching to carve again. The way he didn't seem to see them at all. This wasn't a man. This was a wound given flesh.