"Shit!"
Pierce stumbled back in alarm. He recognized that syringe instantly—Transigen's experimental combat stimulant, designed to temporarily restore a mutant's peak abilities.
A juiced-up Wolverine? That was a nightmare scenario.
"Sniper! Target Logan—"
The response crackled through his earpiece:
"X-23 and Subject 757 detected. They're charging my position."
"Release X-24. You keep Wolverine pinned."
Pierce barked orders while his men formed a defensive line. How the hell had the girl and the telekinetic slipped through their perimeter? No matter. X-24 would shred them.
Lab data proved it: X-23 couldn't match X-24's brutality, and 757's bullet-bending was useless against adamantium.
But right now? The real threat was Logan.
Even mid-conversation, the drugged berserker had already butchered ten elite soldiers. Without sniper suppression, Pierce and the rest would be gutted within minutes.
No wonder Rice obsesses over him.
"Confirmed."
A thunderous rifle shot echoed. Logan's torso erupted in crimson as the round hammered him down. Soldiers swarmed, pouring gunfire to keep him grounded.
Meanwhile—
George sprinted toward the armored bus with Laura beside him.
They hadn't escaped the encirclement—they'd never been inside. While Pierce's forces focused on the factory, the duo had flanked from cover, zeroing in on X-24's transport.
Eliminate the clone, win the battle.
But the sniper? That was an unwelcome variable. Not in the damn movie.
Fortunately, he'd brought backup.
If that sniper draws a bead on me… His grip tightened on Laura's collar. Sorry, kid. You're taking the bullet.
Her healing factor could tank a rifle shot. He couldn't.
Brutal? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely. Failure meant death for all thirty-five children.
Though she's tiny. Might only shield my torso. Legs'll have to dodge.
His mutant-wizard hybrid vitality might survive non-fatal wounds. And at closer range, he could disrupt the sniper's aim by warping the rifle's metal components.
Luckily, the sniper kept targeting Logan, buying them time.
Then the bus doors hissed open.
X-24 lunged out, roaring.
"Perfect." George grinned.
Four soldiers followed, setting up a camera—clearly here to document the clone's performance. Their casual confidence screamed "This isn't a fight; it's a demo reel."
Twenty meters. Ten.
George hoisted Laura like a football and fired his SMG.
Not the adamantium round. Not yet.
Killing X-24 prematurely would shift all attention to them.
"Bang! Bang!"
Two bullets arced around X-24's guarding arm—straight into its eyeballs.
The clone howled, clutching its face. Regeneration didn't negate pain.
"Laura—go!"
He hurled her over X-24's head. She landed in a roll and bolted toward the sniper's nest.
X-24's eyes healed. Its claws lashed out.
"Shink!"
George barely yanked back as the SMG split in half. The second swipe aimed for his throat.
"Christ, you're fast."
Magnetism flared. Fifty pounds of force wrenched X-24's wrist mid-swing.
Not enough to stop it—but enough to deflect.
George ducked and ran.
No heroic stands. No fair fights. Just a mad dash for the bus, using every ounce of magnetic trickery to hinder X-24's pursuit.
I need distance. Need the sniper in range.
His power was still underdeveloped. A few months ago, he could barely lift ten pounds telekinetically. Now? Fifty.
Give him years, and he'd be hurling cars.
Or a proper Hogwarts education, and a single Stupefy could end this.
Future's bright. Present's dicey.
For now?
Run. Distract. Survive.