Rowan had known his limits for a long time.
He wasn't Magneto. He couldn't freeze missiles midair, tear cities apart, or bend the planet's magnetic field to his will. Flying by magnetic force was out of the question. So was stopping an army with a casual gesture.
But what the trainers at the facility had taught him was still laughably inefficient.
Knives were crude. Predictable. If he was going to use magnetism, he needed speed and volume. Needles would have been better. Bullets were best.
A firearm already did most of the work. All Rowan had to do was nudge the trajectory. With even minimal correction, he could turn automatic weapons into something far beyond human marksmanship.
That was the key.
And if his control grew stronger one day—if he could bend the fire of heavy machine guns—then a single person really could hold a gate against an army.
"Move!" Rowan shouted.
The cafeteria floor was littered with bodies. He waved sharply at Gabriela and Laura, who were still staring at the carnage in stunned silence.
"Laura, let's go!"
Gabriela snapped out of it and grabbed the girl, pulling her into a sprint. She knew who Rowan was—Subject 757—but unlike the children, he'd never needed nurses or caretakers. He'd always been handled separately.
Still, anyone fighting for them couldn't be an enemy.
They ran hard, catching up to the fleeing children ahead. Rowan stayed alert the entire time. This facility had more guards than they'd seen so far, and possibly heavier weapons. What he'd pulled off in the cafeteria worked because of surprise—and because Laura had drawn attention.
A sniper would end him in seconds.
Some rifles punched clean through concrete. At that distance, even his magnetism wouldn't save him.
They reached the outer gate without resistance.
Only then did Rowan finally breathe.
After helping the children climb into the truck, he stayed behind instead of boarding.
"Do you know where the most important labs and data archives are?" he asked Gabriela.
She hesitated, then pointed. "There. And there."
Rowan nodded.
"Good. Then let's leave them a parting gift."
He opened his pack and took out a handful of grenades scavenged from fallen guards. Cash was tucked in there too—he wasn't planning to leave this country broke.
With precise magnetic control, he sent the grenades sailing toward both locations. Their pins popped midair.
Seconds later, the ground shook.
Fire and smoke swallowed the labs.
"Hope you enjoy it," Rowan muttered.
He climbed into the truck.
"Go!"
An hour later, Dr. Sandor Rice slammed his hand across Donald's face.
"Useless!" he roared. "You were told to clean up trash, and instead you let half of it escape and destroy my research! If X-24 weren't intact, I'd throw you into the incinerator myself!"
Donald lowered his head. "My failure, sir. We didn't anticipate staff interference."
"I don't want excuses," Rice snapped. "Find the escaped children. Eliminate them before another organization gets involved. I will not have S.H.I.E.L.D. tracing this back to us."
Until mass production was stable, he had no intention of confronting forces like that.
"If necessary," Rice added coldly, "I'll deploy X-24. Consider it a field test."
"Yes, sir."
Donald left the damaged lab and began mobilizing his forces.
"Report," he demanded.
"Commander, evidence indicates Subject 757 was responsible," a team leader said quickly. "Captain Beis was killed. Most cameras were destroyed, but trajectory and residue analysis places 757 at the cafeteria. Most casualties died from gunfire—precise, fatal shots."
Donald frowned.
"A sharpshooter? That doesn't fit his profile."
Subject 757 wasn't supposed to be capable of that.
After a moment, Donald shook his head.
"That's the boss's problem now."