Rai_jin
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#33 VCM
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 10:15:55 +0000 UTCAs Magneto stood deep in thought, Ethan had already approached and carefully removed the helmet from Professor X’s head.
This time, however, Magneto didn’t intervene.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward Mystique.
Understanding his silent command, Mystique leaned in and whispered something into Jason’s ear.
Receiving his orders from 'Stryker', Jason finally released the illusion that had kept Professor X ensnared.
“Well, it looks like we’ve received Stryker’s first ‘gift’ of experimental material.” Ethan circled Jason, looking at the boy's empty look, regarding him with a calculating expression.
“Might as well take this ‘humanoid tool’ with us. He could be useful.”
A moment later, Professor X blinked, his consciousness fully returning.
His eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. “Eric… you’re all here.”
“Professor, are you alright?” Ethan turned to face him, his voice edged with concern.
“I’m fine. What’s the situation?” Professor X quickly inquired, recalling the disturbing events from before.
“Don’t worry, everything’s under control.” But just as the words left Ethan’s lips, the ground beneath them trembled violently.
Professor X gripped the armrest of his wheelchair. “What’s happening?”
Ethan tilted his head up, spotting a thin crack forming along the top of the wall.
A single drop of water seeped through, landing on his nose.
His expression darkened. “Something’s wrong with the dam.”
A sudden realization struck him. “Damn it… who broke the dam?”
He wiped his nose, but as he turned to the others, he noticed their collective stare fixated on him.
He hesitated, then gave a dry cough, swiftly changing the subject.
“This place isn’t safe anymore. We need to leave. Now.” He took hold of Professor X’s wheelchair and started pushing it at a brisk pace toward the exit.
········
Meanwhile, deep within the facility, Logan prowled through the tunnels, his senses sharp, searching for any trace of Stryker.
As he moved, something stirred within him—a faint call, resonating from the depths of his mind.
His instincts led him toward a massive underground chamber.
The room was filled with eerie-looking instruments and research materials.
Scattered across the walls were numerous X-ray images of human bodies.
Logan barely spared them a glance—his attention was drawn instead to a particular set of claw marks embedded in metal.
His claw marks.
His vision blurred.
Fragments of forgotten memories flickered to life, flashing in and out like a broken film reel.
“So… are you remembering the place where you were ‘reborn,’ beast?”
The chilling voice came from the corridor.
Stryker stepped forward, calm and composed, showing no sign of fear as he faced Logan.
Behind him, his ever-loyal enforcer—his deadly weapon—followed in silence, her gaze fixed on Logan with an unsettling detachment.
Logan’s hands clenched into fists, his claws unsheathing with a metallic snikt.
His voice was a low growl.
“It was you… you did this to me.”
Logan extended his claws, his voice ice-cold. “You act like I owe you something.”
Stryker smirked, feigning surprise.
“Oh? Have you forgotten? You volunteered for the experiment. You wanted power.” He paused, watching Logan’s expression darken.
“Ah, right… you don’t remember, do you?”
“You’re dead!” Logan snarled, ready to lunge, but before he could strike, the woman behind Stryker stepped forward, blocking his path.
“Do you know something, Wolverine?” Stryker mused as he backed toward the exit.
“I used to think you were one of a kind. Turns out, I was wrong. You were just a prototype… a failure. Now, let me introduce you to my latest masterpiece—Lady Deathstrike.”
Logan glared at the woman standing before him.
“Move, or I won’t be nice about it.” He flexed his claws, prepared to tear through her.
Lady Deathstrike remained unfazed.
She calmly raised her hands, and ten razor-sharp blades extended from her fingers, longer and sleeker than Logan’s own adamantium claws.
“Fuck…” Logan muttered under his breath.
He briefly hesitated, but then a smirk tugged at his lips. “Doesn’t matter. Mine are thicker.”
With that, he charged at her.
Steel clashed against steel as Logan’s claws met Lady Deathstrike’s in a brutal exchange.
She was fast—too fast. Her blades struck with precision, forcing Logan on the defensive.
But he was relentless, matching her blow for blow, their strikes creating sparks in the dimly lit chamber.
From a safe distance, Stryker sneered.
“Enjoy yourself, Wolverine.” He turned, reaching for the escape door—only to freeze as he found 4 individuals standing right in his way.
“Yo,” Ethan greeted, waving casually.
Stryker’s smirk vanished.
“Damn it!” He yanked a pistol from his holster and aimed at Ethan.
Before he could fire, a gunshot rang out—but it wasn’t his.
A bullet ricocheted, shattering his weapon and sending him to the floor, clutching his bleeding hand.
“Ahhh!” he howled in pain.
“Well, that’s one less problem.” Ethan stepped over Stryker’s writhing body, then glanced over at the ongoing battle.
Logan and Lady Deathstrike were locked in a deadly struggle, neither yielding an inch.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Should we step in?”
“Are you kidding me?” Logan barked between gritted teeth, slashing wildly at Lady Deathstrike. “Stay the hell out of this!”
Despite his bravado, Logan was struggling.
Lady Deathstrike was more than just a match—she was superior in speed, technique, and precision.
Every time he landed a strike, she countered effortlessly. She healed just as fast as he did, making every wound meaningless.
He couldn’t beat her.
A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest. His whole philosophy—fight first, ask later—was crumbling under the reality that brute force wasn’t enough this time.
“Lady Deathstrike! Finish him!” Stryker barked from the ground, desperation lacing his voice.
Hearing her master’s command,
Lady Deathstrike abruptly disengaged from Logan and turned toward Ethan.
With inhuman speed, she leaped forward, aiming to drive her claws through his chest.
Her attack never landed.
Ethan caught her wrist mid-strike.
The moment their skin touched, a violent tremor ran through her body.
Her muscles locked, her healing factor unable to compensate for whatever was happening.
Terror flickered in her usually lifeless eyes. 'What… did you do?'
Ethan’s expression remained unreadable.
He pressed his fingers lightly against her forehead.
Lady Deathstrike shuddered, her eyes rolling back as her body went limp.
She collapsed to the ground, completely still.
Blood leaking out from her ears, eyes, mouth, and nose.
Ethan destroyed her brain from inside, popping it like a fucking balloon.
Logan, still catching his breath, stalked over.
He glared down at her motionless form, then back at Ethan.
“What the hell did you just do?”
“Let’s just call it a full system reboot,” Ethan said nonchalantly. “She’ll recover—eventually. But it’ll take a while.”
