They landed in Los Angeles just after dusk.
Not on a private runway. Not on some sleek jet.They barely got a damn plane.
After a few "we saved your ass during the Kaiju thing, Tony" messages and about four hours of Deadpool prank-calling Stark's AI, they'd scored a battered, unmarked SHIELD transport plane and a very grumpy pilot who didn't stop muttering about "weirdos" the entire flight.
But now?
They were here.
Los Angeles.
A city drowning in neon, cracked concrete, and promises it never intended to keep.
As they dragged their luggage out of the terminal, Deadpool spread his arms wide and declared:
"WELCOME TO LA! The city of fake teeth, fake friends, and fake orgasms!"
Frenchie lit a cigarette without looking up. "You've been here before?"
"Bro," Deadpool grinned. "I've been every version of 'rock bottom' in this place."
But Alex didn't laugh.
He paused. Just outside the terminal.
Something was wrong.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… wrong.
The way the air felt slightly thicker. The shadows slightly longer.The way the city stared back.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Deadpool popped in beside him, still wearing those ridiculous Hollywood sunglasses. "You okay there, starboy? You look like you just walked through a ghost."
Alex blinked.
"Yeah. Fine. Just tired."
He lied.
Nightfall — West LA
They'd managed to find a cheap, dusty apartment in a rundown neighborhood just off the freeway. Faded palm trees lined the streets like wilted sentinels. The air smelled like gasoline, hot trash, and whatever dream died in this block last week.
Inside the apartment, the others were already half-passed out or rummaging for something edible.
Alex stepped onto the small balcony.
The city was lit below — buzzing, chaotic, endless. But above it all…
He felt it again.
That pull. That pressure. Like someone watching from inside his spine.
He turned his head slowly.
Across the rooftops, barely distinguishable in the haze of night, a shape stood.
Not a person.
A presence.
Wrapped in shadows darker than the night around it. Its form unmoving. Long, ragged shrouds drifting without wind. Dim, white-glow eyes — not glowing bright, but burning dull, like ancient stars dying behind a veil.
It didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just watched.
Then—Gone.
No blink. No flash.Just… gone.
Like it had never been there at all.
Alex staggered back.
And then—
DING.
His system chimed.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
He Is Watching You.
Alex's breath caught.
Not a threat. Not an enemy.
A statement.
A warning.
He looked back at the spot across the rooftops.
Empty.
But the feeling?
Still there.