The steel doors hissed open beneath Mark's touch, bending inward as if they feared him. Alkali Lake's underground complex stretched out before him—cold, metallic, and haunted by memories that did not belong to him but flowed from Logan like distant screams.
Mark stepped forward, the white suit he wore glowing faintly under the flickering industrial lights. The golden aura around him was calm… too calm. Like the stillness before a star explodes.
Logan moved beside him, claws half-unsheathed, jaw tight.
"You ready for this, kid?" Logan asked, voice low.
Mark's eyes didn't shift toward him.
"I've been ready for six months," he answered, tone flat, resonant—almost echoing. "Let's finish what he started."
They walked deeper into the corridor.
Two armed soldiers turned the corner.
They froze.
Mark didn't.
"Target sighted!" one yelled, lifting his rifle.
The bullets never touched him.
They didn't even slow him.
Ten centimeters from his chest, the metal rounds shivered—then fell to the floor like pebbles thrown at a mountain.
Logan smirked. "Nice."
Mark didn't smirk back.
He stepped forward, grabbed the first soldier by the skull—
CRACK.
Blood misted the air.
The second soldier screamed, firing wildly. Mark lifted a hand, and energy spiraled around his fingers—white, gold, lightning-like.
"Be silent."
The energy shot forward like a blade, clean and merciless. The soldier disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but a scorch mark and a rifle clattering to the floor.
Logan whistled softly. "And here I thought I was the violent one."
"I've learned efficiency," Mark replied. "Violence is just the tool."
They moved again.
Every few meters, more soldiers appeared—shouting, panicking, firing. Mark didn't bother using reality warping. He wanted to feel something real. Something physical. So he used only raw force, keeping reality warping dormant.
A soldier tackled him from behind.
Mark didn't turn.
He snapped his fingers.
The man's entire body exploded into particles of blue-white energy, dissolving into the vents.
Logan stared.
"Show-off."
Mark spoke softly. "This is restraint, Logan."
They reached a reinforced door with the words SUBJECT X-23 – HIGH SECURITY printed across it.
Logan's eyes widened. "Wait… no. This can't be what I think it is."
"It is," Mark said.
He waved his hand.
The door peeled open like melting wax.
Inside stood a girl—barefoot, black hair messy, eyes feral but brilliant green. Metal restraints chained her arms. Needles were pushed into her veins. She looked thirteen.
Mark told who she really is, and her name is Laura.
Logan whispered, "…Laura?"
Her head snapped up.
She growled—low, animalistic. Like him.
Mark stepped in.
She lunged.
But before she reached him, Mark flicked a finger.
Her body froze mid-air.
Not by force—by reality itself stopping around her. Her mind, however, still raced in panic.
"She's controlled," Mark said.
He moved closer, studying the psychic device implanted at the base of her skull.
Logan's muscles tensed. "Don't hurt her."
Mark looked at him, emotionless.
"Logan. I kill people. I do not hurt children."
Logan relaxed a fraction.
Mark touched Laura's forehead.
His golden aura expanded, filling the room like a divine storm. Electrodes melted, restraints shattered, and the mind-control device dissolved into dust.
Laura collapsed into Mark's arms, unconscious, peaceful.
"Take her," Mark said.
Logan lifted her, holding her with a gentleness no one would expect from him.
" So she's my clone," Logan whispered. "Stryker made her from my DNA."
Mark's gaze hardened. "Then we end the man responsible."
They walked forward. Deeper. Darker. Each step sending echoes through Stryker's metallic tomb.
At the end of the hallway stood a heavy door—marked COMMAND ROOM.
Mark raised his hand.
The door tore itself apart atom by atom.
Inside was a man with silver hair, trembling behind a console.
Stryker.
He pointed a gun at Logan. "Stop right there! Or I'll—"
Mark's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You will lower your hand."
Stryker's arm shook violently. "Y-You don't give me orders—"
Mark stepped in front of him, towering, calm.
"William Stryker," Mark said, voice echoing with something divine, something older than the room around them. "You've harmed mutants for decades. Tortured children. Created weapons out of innocent lives."
Stryker spat. "Mutants are monsters! Tools! Experiments! I was defending humanity!"
Mark's head tilted slightly.
"Humanity?" he repeated. "I could erase humanity with a thought. Yet I don't."
Logan smirked coldly from behind. "You heard him."
Stryker backed up, hitting the wall.
"W-What are you?"
Mark leaned forward, eyes glowing.
"A god you chose to anger."
Stryker screamed and pulled the trigger.
The shot never reached Mark.
It dissolved into light.
Mark didn't blink.
Then another voice spoke from the back of the room—weak, trembling, yet filled with psychic pressure.
"Father…?"
A young man stepped forward—blind, head twitching, wires connected to a machine.
Stryker's son.
The mutant with dangerous psychic abilities.
Mark turned to him. "You must be the one he experimented on the longest."
The young man whispered, "Please… kill me. I can feel everything. Every thought. Every scream. He made me hurt people. I can't stop it…"
Mark studied him.
Logan spoke softly. "Kid… we can help you."
Mark shook his head once.
"No. His actions are beyond repair. Killing him is mercy."
Stryker screamed. "NO! DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
Mark raised two fingers.
Golden energy coiled around the young man. His suffering… stopped. Instantly. Painlessly.
A gentle death.
Stryker collapsed to his knees, sobbing. "Please… please… don't kill me…"
Mark's voice was colder than the lake above them.
"Logan?"
Logan stepped forward, claws out—pitch-black vibranium shining like a void.
"You can't imagine how long I waited for this," Logan growled.
Stryker raised his hands. "Wait! WAIT—"
Logan didn't.
SHINK.
Three claws plunged into Stryker's chest.
Blood poured.
Stryker gasped, choking. "Logan… Logan… please… I—I created you—"
"That's the problem," Logan snarled.
He shoved the claws deeper.
Stryker died slowly.
And painfully.
Mark watched without emotion.
When the body hit the floor, Logan looked at Mark. "…You okay?"
"I'm fine," Mark said. "He wasn't worth anger."
"What about his son…?"
Mark's expression didn't change. "Free."
Logan nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's one way to put it."
The alarms suddenly blared.
FACILITY BREACH. SELF-DESTRUCT INITIATED.
Mark sighed. "Annoying."
He snapped his fingers.
The whole facility froze.
The alarms silenced.
Then—everything started turning into dust. Walls, floors, machines—dissolving outward like sand in the wind.
"Damn…" Logan whispered.
Mark turned to him. "We're done here."
"What about the girl?"
"She's safe. Let's go."
Mark put a hand on Logan's shoulder.
They vanished.
— — — — —
They reappeared outside the mansion, moonlight shining over them.
Logan still held Laura.
Mark's aura dimmed, settling at a calm golden glow around his suit.
"You really went all out," Logan muttered.
Mark responded quietly, "He deserved worse."
Logan smirked. "I won't argue with that."
Xavier appeared at the entrance, shocked to see Laura in Logan's arms.
"My God…" Charles whispered.
Mark's voice remained steady. "We destroyed the facility. Stryker is dead. His son is gone."
Charles nodded slowly. "And you?"
Mark's reply was simple.
"I'm exactly what I need to be."
Logan looked at him—studying the cold eyes, the flawless suit, the divine aura that shimmered like molten gold.
"You're different now, kid."
Mark's expression didn't change.
"I've evolved."
Then he turned around, walking toward the mansion.
His voice drifted back, echoing with power.
"Prepare the jet. We have work to do."