Five days later, at the genetic modification research institute in Mexico City.
Sander Rice gazed at the young Wolverine, X-24, he had replicated using Logan's genes, and laughter escaped him.
"Finally. I've succeeded in my research—a Wolverine who obeys my every command. The future world will bow at my feet."
His father, Dale Rice, had been one of the scientists who performed the Adamantium implantation on Logan. Dale was killed when Logan escaped the laboratory, and from that moment, Sander resolved to eliminate all uncontrolled, dangerous mutants and create a generation of mutant soldiers who would follow his commands without question.
Over the years, he had poured effort into ensuring no new mutants could be born in this world, deploying a virus that, while harmless to humans, would suppress the abilities of existing mutants and prevent genetic mutations in offspring. After more than twenty years, no new mutants would emerge.
"Donald," Sander said, turning to a man whose right arm had been completely replaced with a mechanical prosthetic. "Those Experiment 757s refuse to obey. Just eliminate them all."
Originally, Sander had intended to use the mutant genes collected through surrogates in Mexico to breed a new batch of mutant children to sell as weapons. But over time, he realized that these children, once grown, developed independent thoughts, resisted control, and even tried to escape.
Now that he had perfected the replication technology for fully obedient mutants, the failures were useless. More than that, if he could mass-produce mutants under his control, he could dominate the entire world.
"Should Experiment 757 also be eliminated?"
Donald didn't flinch at the suggestion. Sander paused for two seconds, then nodded.
"Dispose of him. With replication technology fully matured, we can create copies of Wolverine, maybe even Professor X or Magneto. No need to waste resources on inferior 757s."
"Understood."
Donald drew his pistol and turned to leave the lab.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the base, George was practicing his gesture casting in his room. He glanced at the clock, his expression hardening.
"No… is it about to start?"
Normally, someone would have come to take him for training by now.
"It seems it has begun."
At that moment, his door suddenly burst open, and two familiar shadows stepped inside. Leading them was the Captain who had been overseeing his training.
"I said this guy was useless," the Captain sneered. "Training him all this time was a waste, and now he still needs to be disposed of."
He glanced at George with disgust and then gestured to a subordinate holding a submachine gun.
"Take care of him. Burn the body in the laboratory incinerator along with the rest of the trash."
"Yes, Captain."
The subordinate raised the gun and aimed at George. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, George shouted a strange word:
"Alohomora!"
A sudden click sounded as the inhibitor on Experiment 757's neck disengaged. He felt a sharp chill travel through his body, and his consciousness blurred.
The Captain's subordinate froze in confusion, and before he could react, George's magnetic control flared. The dagger he had secretly placed at the door flew through the air, slicing the guard's throat and neutralizing the immediate threat.
"Slash!"
The Captain instinctively drew his dagger and deflected the incoming blade, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"How… how is this possible?" he muttered.
He realized that Experiment 757 had been hiding his true abilities. The speed and precision of George's dagger manipulation were far beyond what he had encountered before. Though the Captain managed to block the first strike, his wrist ached from the force.
"Dead men don't need to know that much," George muttered under his breath.
He immediately destroyed the surveillance in the room and unleashed a furious storm of attacks on the Captain. The shared Wizard Bloodline had amplified his mutant abilities, making him far more dangerous than before.
Despite the Captain's attempts to escape and engage George in close combat, he found no opening. George's dagger danced like lightning, striking with impossible angles and terrifying speed. Within moments, the Captain was wounded and reeling.
Knowing escape time was precious, George didn't linger. He controlled the dagger to strike down surveillance cameras and neutralize guards along his path. When he came across a guard with a submachine gun, George manipulated the weapon into his own hands.
"Captain, goodbye," he said coldly.
The Captain, still struggling to block the relentless dagger, watched in horror as George emptied the gun into him. When the chaos settled, George retrieved both his own dagger and the Captain's, then silently slipped out of the room, making his way toward the laboratory's exterior.
Gunfire and screams erupted around him. Clearly, he wasn't the only one targeted—other mutant children were also being eliminated. Their chaotic resistance had drawn attention and diverted forces, which allowed George to move without immediate pursuit.
This was precisely why he had waited until now to act. If he had tried to escape earlier, he would have been quickly surrounded. The disorder caused by the other mutant children was essential—it bought him the precious time needed to escape.
With every step, George disabled surveillance and overcame armed guards, moving closer to the exit. His control over the dagger allowed him to navigate the heavily monitored base without triggering alarms.
The Captain had underestimated him, and the base was about to pay the price for that mistake.