At the Arkley Genetics headquarters, Dr. Sander Rice stood before a row of glass containment tanks, laughter echoing through the sterile lab.
Inside each tank floated a powerful body, threaded with tubes and sensors. The data scrolling across his tablet only fueled his excitement.
"I knew it," he said, grinning wide. "I knew I'd crack it. Soon, this world won't answer to nations. It'll answer to me."
The last operation had been a failure. X-24 hadn't eliminated the escaped mutant children. But failure brought data, and data brought refinement. Over the past few months, Rice had pushed his cloning program further than ever before.
Wolverine clones were no longer the limit.
With every iteration, the process stabilized. Replication of other high-profile mutants was no longer theoretical. Given another month or two, he was confident he could produce viable copies of figures like Professor Xavier, Magneto, Jean Grey, and Scott Summers.
The clones were weaker than the originals. That was unavoidable. But Rice didn't need perfection.
Even at a fraction of the original strength, a clone was dangerous. And Rice wasn't building one.
He was building thousands.
Controlled remotely. Fearless. Disposable. Loyal in ways humans never were.
A single inferior Magneto clone was nothing. A thousand acting in concert? That was leverage. That was conquest.
He lowered the tablet, eyes shining.
"Call Donald," he said. "Now."
Minutes later, the base commander stood before him.
"Any progress tracking the escaped subjects?"
"No confirmed location yet," Donald replied. "But we're certain they're in New York. They stopped rotating vehicles once they entered the city. They're hiding somewhere secure."
Rice's expression hardened. "Good. They'll be useful."
Donald hesitated. "Useful, sir?"
"The clones need real combat data," Rice said coldly. "And loose ends need to be erased. Once the next phase is ready, I'll provide you with a Caliban clone. Its tracking abilities will make finding them trivial."
He leaned forward. "If you fail again, don't bother coming back."
Sweat beaded at Donald's temples. "I won't fail. I'll bring back every body. Wolverine. Xavier. All of them."
"See that you do."
Donald left quickly.
Rice turned back to the tanks, his smile returning.
Trask. Stryker. Their Sentinels and half-measures were jokes. Machines rebelled. Soldiers questioned orders. His creations didn't.
They obeyed.
The only problem was adamantium. Supplies were nearly exhausted. Most of it had gone into X-23 and X-24. The newer Wolverine clones relied on bone claws instead.
Rice smirked. "Might be for the best."
Bone wasn't affected by magnetic manipulation. Whoever Subject 757 had become, his abilities wouldn't work the same way on these models.
Rice had tried recreating that anomaly. Every attempt failed. Five of the new prototypes couldn't even overpower a single bone-claw clone. Useless.
He'd abandoned that line of research entirely.
In Washington, D.C., inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters at the Triskelion, Nick Fury watched a video feed shut down.
"Stark still isn't cooperating," Phil Coulson reported. "We'll need more time."
Fury nodded. "There's no chance Tony Stark and Dr. Farid escaped that camp alone. Our survey of the site confirms a third party intervened."
He leaned back. "Your priorities are twofold. Find out who ordered the attack on Stark. And identify who pulled him out."
"Yes, sir."
Once the call ended, Fury opened another file.
Half an hour later, Natasha Romanoff stepped into his office.
"Arkley Genetics," Fury said, sliding the file across the desk. "Our investigations strongly link them to mutant disappearances. Intelligence suggests they're developing engineered mutant weapons."
Natasha skimmed the contents, expression calm.
"I want you inside their operation," Fury continued. "Find out what they're planning. Get proof. If there's anything usable for us, flag it."
Arkley had friends in high places. Without evidence, S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't move openly without political backlash.
Natasha closed the file. "Understood."
For her, it was just another assignment.
Her last mission had involved seducing a general who never realized the woman he loved was the one who ended his career.
This would be simpler.