Ryu nodded. Spider-Man cracked a weak joke: "Great. So we just have to beat up reality until it works again. No pressure."

"No way," he whispered.

"You're a new download," Ryu said, not unkindly. "The merger corrupts all who install it. You must fight to uncorrupt your world."

Leo looked down. His hands were gone. In their place were glowing, translucent menu screens. His inventory. His health bar. His special move list .

This was not a game. This was the seam between worlds.

"Alright," he said, stepping forward. "Let's install some justice."

A booming voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere: "FATE OF TWO WORLDS. CHOOSE YOUR SIDE."

Leo realized then: the game wasn't something he played anymore. The game was playing him . Every punch he’d ever thrown as Wolverine, every combo he’d nailed as Dante—they were etched into his muscle memory. But he wasn't a character. He was the player, trapped inside the controller.