The safe haven stood resolute under a gray April sky, its obsidian walls glinting with traces of Iron Man's alloy enhancements, its moat of Lily's fire simmering low but ever-present. Inside, life settled into a rhythm—fragile, hard-won, but theirs. Bill woke each morning to the hum of the arc reactor fragment powering their sanctuary, a reminder of the Marvel world's dangers lurking beyond. Yet here, with Clara and Lily, he found purpose.Dawn broke with Bill in the workshop, the Steve template active. His pixelated hands shaped wood into shelves, crafting tools from scavenged Sentinel parts—a hoe for Clara's garden, a fishing rod for Lily. Iron Man's HUD flickered on, scanning for structural weak points; he'd reinforce a wall with nanite-laced stone before breakfast. The comics' memories—mutant ghettos, Sentinels' relentless hunts—kept him vigilant, but today, he focused on normalcy.Clara called from the kitchen, her voice warm. "Bill, coffee's ready. Lily's got the bread going."He stepped in, templates fading, and smiled. The room smelled of yeast and roasted beans—Clara's doing, using wheat Lily had scorched into flour with precise flames. A Steve-crafted table held their meal, Iron Man's tech keeping it heated. "You're spoiling us," Bill said, kissing her cheek."Someone has to," Clara teased, her hands dusted with flour. She'd adapted fast, turning the haven's resources into comfort—gardening in soil Bill tilled with Steve's hoe, cooking with pots he'd forged. Her strength anchored them, a quiet defiance against the chaos outside.Lily bounded in, her glow dim but steady. "Bread's done! I didn't burn it this time." She set a loaf down, golden-brown, a triumph of her control."Looks perfect," Bill said, ruffling her hair. "You're getting good at this."After breakfast, they split tasks. Bill patrolled the haven's perimeter, Iron Man's sensors tracking for magnetic pulses—Magneto's signature—or seismic shifts hinting at Apocalypse. He'd tweak the turrets, Steve's arrows now tipped with Iron Man's explosive microcharges, comics' lessons ensuring no threat slipped through. Clara tended her garden, coaxing carrots and potatoes from dirt enriched by Lily's ash, while Lily trained her fire nearby, shaping it into rings under Storm's distant guidance via radio.Midday brought a break. They sat by the moat, its flames a soft barrier, and fished in a pond Bill had dug with Steve's shovel, stocked with fish he'd caught using Iron Man's sonar. Lily laughed as she reeled in a trout, her line snapping—Bill webbed it with Spider-Man's reflexes, grinning. "Teamwork, kiddo."Clara leaned against him, watching Lily. "This feels… normal. After everything.""It's what I wanted," Bill said, his tone soft but firm. "A place where you're safe, where we're us. The comics showed me what happens when families don't have this—Wolverine's losses, Tony's isolation. I won't let that be us."Afternoon meant maintenance. Bill climbed the walls, Steve's pickaxe harvesting stone to patch wear, Iron Man's repulsors welding it tight. Lily helped, her fire melting ore into bars for Clara's projects—a wind chime, a knife. They'd laugh over small victories, like when Lily's flame accidentally glazed a clay pot Clara shaped, turning it into a keepsake.Evenings were for stories. In the bunker's main room, lit by Steve-crafted torches and Iron Man's soft glow, Bill recounted tales—not comics' tragedies, but his old life's quieter moments: camping trips, game nights. Clara added her own, pre-haven memories of baking with Lily, while Lily spun wild ideas—using her fire to fly, Bill crafting a dragon. They'd end with a hug, the haven's walls muffling the world's threats.The Template System stayed quiet, only chiming once:
"Host emotional state: Content. Templates utilized for stability. Objective: Maintain family haven."Night patrols were Bill's alone. He'd stand atop the haven, Wolverine's senses sharp, listening for Sentinels or Brotherhood whispers. The comics' shadows—Phoenix's fire, Apocalypse's judgment—loomed, but inside, Clara slept soundly, Lily's glow a faint comfort. He'd built this with Iron Man's brilliance and Steve's grit, a sanctuary against Marvel's storm.Back inside, he'd check the biometric lock—his family's prints, their bond coded in steel—and rest, knowing tomorrow's routine would hold them together. The haven wasn't just walls; it was their life, carved from love and defiance.