Scott took a deep breath, adjusting the micro-control knob next to his visor. Two blazing red concussive beams fired precisely from behind his ruby-quartz lens, striking the heavy, composite energy absorption target marked 'A3' in the distance.
With a soft BZZT, the target vibrated slightly, ripples spreading across its surface.
The screen on the right immediately synchronized a new, stable, clear red energy waveform and data stream. The blurred crimson-gold ray waveform from the video was highlighted next to it for comparison.
Hank swiftly manipulated the control console, issuing constant commands: "Increase to 25%... Maximum power burst in scatter mode... Maintain for five seconds..."
Scott complied with each command. The red concussive beams firing from behind his ruby-quartz visor sometimes focused like a spear and sometimes spread out like a fan, with varying intensities. With every emission, the waveform graph on the right faithfully recorded the results, performing a high-speed, multi-dimensional analysis against the crimson-gold ray graph, down to the sub-atomic energy level.
The only sounds in the lab were the faint hum of the running equipment, the specific whoom of Scott's power activating, and Hank's occasional instruction detailing the parameters. The atmosphere was slightly heavy.
Jean's eyes moved between Scott's focused profile and the comparison data on the screen, showing a trace of concern. Blink sucked on her bubble tea straw, her large eyes darting back and forth between the two graphs, seemingly trying to comprehend the complex lines. Coulson stood with his arms crossed, his expression calm but his attention locked on every comparison result displayed on the monitor.
Time ticked by.
Finally, Hank stopped working, meticulously reviewing the final analysis report. He then looked up at Professor Xavier and Coulson, his voice carrying the faint certainty and excitement common to research scientists:
"The comparison results are clear. Whether examining the core energy frequency, spectral composition, particle flow characteristics, power decay mode, or even the spacetime curvature perturbation signature at the moment of energy burst, there is a fundamental, massive difference between Scott's ability and the Heat Ray captured in the footage."
Hank gave a distinct, very human shrug, a nuanced expression on his blue face. "It's like... trying to open a lock meticulously cast from alien metal with a nebulous internal structure, using a precision-machined key. It's a complete mismatch. To put it plainly, the focus is different. Scott's eyes emit highly concussive energy particles—think of it as impact. High impact creates friction, which can result in a high-temperature melting effect. The ray in the video, however, leans toward extreme, pure heat."
The instant Hank finished speaking, Scott's tense shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly.
The others nodded, somewhat understanding. Coulson's professional smile deepened a few degrees; he was clearly satisfied with the result, as it eliminated a key internal suspect.
He turned to Professor Xavier: "Thank you very much, Professor. My thanks to Dr. McCoy and Mr. Summers for your full cooperation. This result is vital; it rules out a major direction. Director Fury will receive the detailed report."
Professor Xavier nodded slightly, looking thoughtful. "It is our privilege to assist S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Coulson. This unknown power... it is so potent, yet so unfamiliar. Let us hope he is merely one of our own kind, and not a threat from beyond the stars."
Just as Coulson prepared to take his leave and the lab atmosphere began to relax, a deep, raspy voice, thick with smoke and an untamed edge, cut in abruptly from the doorway, accompanied by a heavy cloud of cigar smoke:
"Oh? Results are in? I figured there was no way it had anything to do with our 'Mr. By-The-Book Leader.'"
Everyone turned to look.
Logan, also known as Wolverine, leaned against the lab doorway, a thick, lit cigar clamped between his teeth, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. His signature, rebellious eyes were fixed on Scott, and the corners of his mouth held an undisguised, mocking grin.
He took a long drag from the cigar and slowly exhaled a smoke ring, his gaze sweeping over the two destructive, crimson-gold rays frozen on the screen. Then, he deliberately scrutinized Scott, who was standing rigid in his X-Men uniform, and spoke in his unique, sandpaper-like rasp:
"Tsk, I told you, Hank. Stop trying to pretty up the results for him." He made an ambiguous clicking sound with his tongue.
Hank pursed his lips and lowered his head slightly, embarrassed.
"That guy in the video... what's shooting out of his eyes, man, it looks like he stuffed a micro solar flare into his sockets and squeezed it out to detonate people."
He raised his thick brows at Scott, his grin widening to show his sharp, white teeth. "Scott, your precious glasses' red light, compared to that guy's... Ha! Honestly, pal, yours looks more like... hmm... a high-powered laser pointer? Pretty suitable for lighting the candles on a birthday cake, though."
The lab fell instantly silent, save for the low hum of the instruments.
Scott's face instantly flushed bright red, all the way down to his neck. The eyes behind his visor narrowed sharply, his body tensing like a drawn bow, his fists clenching until his knuckles were white. He whipped his head around, glaring murderously at the provocative Logan in the doorway, his voice practically ground out through gritted teeth, alight with fury:
"Logan! You—"
Jean immediately rubbed her temples, sighing in resignation: "Logan." Her telekinetic field swiftly enveloped the area, attempting to prevent the situation from escalating. Hank frantically worked the control console; several energy absorption targets in the lab instantly lit up with defensive glows, ready to intercept any potential optic blasts.
Blink pulled her neck back, quickly took another long sip of her bubble tea, her large eyes darting between the two antagonists, as if watching the prelude to a spectacular show.
Coulson maintained his flawless, professional smile, subtly taking a small step backward. He set his empty teacup gently on a nearby counter, recognizing the perfect moment to excuse himself. Internal mutant 'harmonious interaction' was decidedly not on his mission checklist.
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