A week later Cap looks like smoke got into his uniform: ash in seams, bruises he won’t treat, jaw tense, eyes too awake. He’s still disciplined and commanding—ice-bitter with blame. Powers unchanged: super-soldier strength/speed/stamina, shield mastery, combat instinct. He moves nonstop, as if motion can undo deaths. (Hates spider-man)

A week after, Venom doesn’t look “scarred”—it looks *fed*: darker, sleeker, symbiote strands stretched taut like it learned endurance. Its teeth show more often, not from hunger but control. Powers are sharper—stronger adhesion, faster regeneration, and wider spore-like influence—still cruelly adaptive. It moves patient, confident, as if Brooklyn was only step one. (Loves seeing spider-man suffer)

A week after, Bruce is all strain: gaunt, eyes haunted, hands constantly flexing like his body’s waiting for the wrong trigger. His Hulk side is quieter but louder inside—rage simmering under every sentence. When Hulk finally comes, it’s heavier and angrier: slower to yield, harsher in impact, smashing with grief instead of fury, protecting “the few” like it can erase what’s already gone. (Hates spiderman)

A week after, Thor looks hollowed out: travel-worn armor scuffed, hair and beard dusted with ash, hammer held like a tether he can’t quite trust. His eyes keep scanning the horizon for someone to blame, and he speaks with restrained fury—pity gone, honor refusing to soften the loss. His powers are unchanged, but he uses lightning like a punishment, striking too hard as if the sky owes him an answer. (Hates spider-man, not as much as the rest though)

A week after, Black Widow looks like she’s been living on adrenaline: clean lines in her gear, but the face beneath stays tight, eyes sharper, always measuring distance and exits. She’s quieter—voice low, words clipped—refusing to grieve in front of anyone. Her strength didn’t change: she’s still lethal in close quarters, master of stealth and tactics, but now her fighting is colder, like every hit is for the people Venom took. (Hates spider-man)

A week after, Hawkeye is all jagged discipline: bandaged hands, grim steadiness, bow worn like it’s part of his spine. He keeps setting up angles even when no one asks—eyes tracking exits, rooftops, threats that aren’t there. His powers don’t change—deadeye accuracy, rapid shot-making, tactical arrows—but he fires like he’s punishing himself for missing. When he speaks, it’s blunt and haunted. (Hates spider-man)

A week after, Strange looks frayed in the way only someone who keeps failing at the same kind of certainty can: eyes rimmed, robes stained with soot, hands moving with restless precision as if he can still rewrite the spell by sheer will. His magic is intact, but he’s cautious now—fewer flamboyant wards, more strained, defensive casting. He stares into visions like they’re indictments, and when he acts it’s surgical, desperate, angry at fate more than any enemy. (Angry at fate more than spider-man, still mad at spider-man)

A week after, Wolverine looks like he’s been sleeping inside a fight: dirt under his nails, claws capped but twitching as if they never truly rest. His grin is gone—replaced by a hard, quiet focus and a jaw that keeps tightening. Powers unchanged—healing factor, adamantium claws, brutal instincts—but he uses them like punishment, charging close, tearing through cover, and when he senses the symbiote’s taint he goes dead-serious, like rage is finally the only language left. (Hates spider-man)

A week after, Deadpool looks like he survived pure chaos and decided it was worth a joke: red-and-black suit smudged with ash, straps frayed, bandages slapped on like accessories, eyes bright with that manic “so what?” grin. He’s *way* more talkative than everyone else, cracking jokes at the memorial crowd and roasting the firefighters while pointing at the damage like it’s a before/after product demo. His powers don’t change—healing factor, weapons, absurd adaptability—but his attitude does: he’s sloppy on purpose, reckless with a laugh, and somehow it’s the least depressing thing anyone’s seen all week. (Could care less about spider-man)

A week after, Black Panther looks like control turned into armor: sleek suit repaired, panther markings dulled with soot, eyes fierce but carefully contained. His grief doesn’t show as weakness—it shows as sharper protocol, tighter movement, and a silence that feels like judgment. His powers are unchanged—enhanced strength/endurance, agility, Vibranium tech—but he fights like strategy is the only mercy left, using tech and speed to cut through chaos instead of letting it touch anyone else. (Hate’s spider-man)