Nathaniel settled into an ornate chair, one pale hand resting against his cheek as he regarded the scene before him with obvious amusement. His blood-red eyes gleamed with the anticipation of someone about to witness a particularly fascinating experiment.
Lucien stood facing the massive Sentinel, his muscles coiled for combat.
The Sentinel's optical sensors—or at least the areas where they should have been—suddenly blazed to life with scanning beams that swept across Lucien's body.
Red light played across his skin, his clothes, analyzing every detail with the thoroughness of a medical examination.
Just as Lucien was about to get out of the scanning beam's path, the machine spoke in a voice devoid of any warmth or humanity.
"X-gene detected. Classification: Minor superhuman strength."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, but not for the reason the Sentinel intended.
Nathaniel, who had been leaning back in his chair with supreme confidence, suddenly straightened. His expression shifted from amusement to confusion, then to something approaching genuine concern.
"Minor?" he said, his cultured voice carrying a sharp edge of disbelief.
"No, that can't be right. Your X-gene should be registering at least at Peak Superhuman standards according to the measuring protocols I designed."
He leaned forward, his red eyes narrowing as he studied Lucien more intently. "The data from your facility showed exponential strength, speed, and combat effectiveness. Its sensors should be reading you as..."
Lucien felt his own confusion rising.
Why wasn't the Sentinel detecting his real capabilities? His current strength and speed could make the super soldiers looking sluggish, his combat prowess had just torn through multiple facilities like they were made of paper.
Then understanding hit him like a physical blow.
Originally, my X-gene had been exactly that—minor superhuman strength.
The system, the exponential growth in power—none of that was connected to his mutant genetics. The Sentinel was reading what he'd been born with, not what he'd become.
Looking at Mister Sinister's deepening frown, Lucien felt a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Confused?" he said, his voice carrying dark amusement. "Well, just be ready to die after I'm done with this piece of scrap."
The Sentinel, even without any mutant abilities to copy and adapt to, was still a formidable opponent.
Its construction was leagues beyond the guardian units he'd faced earlier—faster, stronger, with armor that could probably withstand a lot.
Lucien moved like liquid lightning, closing the distance before it could fully react.
His first strike caved in its chest plate, sending sparks cascading across the laboratory floor. The Sentinel tried to retaliate with an arm-mounted energy weapon, as it fired multiple energy blasts at Lucien.
Lucien escaped the trajectory of the attacks.
The Sentinel tried to create a charge energy attack, but Lucien was already behind it, his hands closing around the machine's head.
The fight, if it could even be called that, lasted less than forty seconds. When it ended, the Sentinel's head was completely crushed, its body sparking and twitching on the laboratory floor like a broken toy.
Lucien straightened, not even breathing hard, and fixed Nathaniel with a cold stare.
"Was that all?" he asked, his voice carrying casual contempt. "Now, will you fulfill your end of the bet, or should I just get straight to the killing you part?"
Nathaniel stared at the destroyed Sentinel with genuine shock.
Even knowing the prototype was incomplete, he'd expected it to last far longer against Lucien.
It wasn't that it was made of strong metals, but its adaptability of mutant genes was what made it special.
He'd watched Lucien's fights in all the facilities through hidden cameras, had seen his combat effectiveness, but this level of overwhelming superiority was beyond his calculations.
Though if he was being honest with himself, the shock was mixed with excitement.
This wasn't just about testing his creation—he'd wanted to observe Lucien's fighting style up close, to gather data on him.
Coming out of his momentary stupor, Nathaniel regained his composure, though his earlier smug confidence was notably absent.
"Well," he said, his voice carrying forced calm, "even though quite a lot of things didn't happen according to my calculations, I shall still answer your question. You did win, after all. I am, if nothing else, a man of my word."
He stood from his chair, his movements more careful now, as if he was finally recognizing the genuine danger Lucien represented.
"A serum," he said simply. "I was creating a serum."
"What kind of serum?" Lucien demanded, his patience wearing thin.
Nathaniel's lips curved into what might have been a smile, but there was something desperate about it now. "Well, you see, the status quo of this world is extremely simple. Only those with powers shall be superior to normal humans. It's a natural hierarchy based on genetic lottery and random chance."
He began pacing again, but his earlier confident stride had been replaced by something more agitated. "Someone shared an interesting idea with me, and I decided to put it into reality. The serum—I won't tell you exactly what it does, but once I'm finished with it, the power dynamic will no longer be the same."
Nathaniel's eyes gleamed with renewed excitement as he spoke about his work. "I'm really quite close to completion now. All the blood samples, all the genetic material, all the stress testing we performed—it's all been leading to this moment. And when I succeed, when the serum is complete, we shall meet again under very different circumstances."
The vague answer sent ice through Lucien's veins. A serum that would change the power dynamic between mutants and humans? Given Nathaniel's complete lack of moral restraint, that could mean anything from mass genocide to forced evolution.
"Meet again?" Lucien's voice dropped to something dangerously quiet. "Do you think I would let you go? You will die here today!"
Nathaniel's response was an eerie laugh that echoed strangely in the laboratory, carrying a hollow quality.
"Indeed," he said, his voice taking on that same hollow echo, "I would have died to you today under normal circumstances. You're certainly capable of it, and I respect that power immensely."
His figure began to flicker slightly, like a television with poor reception. "Unfortunately for you, I am not actually here."
The laughter became genuinely maniacal now as Nathaniel's form started to fade out like dispersing light. "Did you really think I would face someone of your demonstrated capabilities in person? I may be dedicated to my research, but I'm not suicidal."
Lucien lunged forward, his hands passing through empty air where Nathaniel had been standing. A hologram. The entire conversation, the entire confrontation—he'd been talking to a projection while the real Mister Sinister was safely elsewhere.
"Become stronger," Nathaniel's fading voice called out, the sound seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Train harder, develop your abilities further, because next time we meet, it won't be a test. It will be your demise. So please, don't die before that. I have such wonderful plans for you."
His figure completely vanished, leaving Lucien alone in the sterile laboratory with nothing but the smoking remains of the destroyed Sentinel and his own burning rage.
That's when he noticed the display panels on the walls lighting up, showing a countdown timer that read ten seconds and dropping fast.
A mechanical voice filled the laboratory, calm and implacable: "Self-destruct sequence initiated. Facility destruction in ten... nine... eight..."
Even in defeat, Nathaniel couldn't resist having the last word. With extreme annoyance, Lucien spun toward the exit, his enhanced speed carrying him through corridors that were already beginning to shake with preliminary explosions.
"Seven... six... five..."
Inside the Quinjet
Natasha and Bucky had been preparing to go in after Lucien when their communications were cut off. The sudden silence from their most capable team member had sent alarm bells ringing through both veteran operatives.
"Let's go," Natasha said, checking her weapons one final time.
Bucky nodded at her as they were ready to move out.
That's when the explosion lit up the horizon like a miniature sun.
The blast wave hit them seconds later, rocking the aircraft despite their distance from the facility.
Through the windows, they could see the entire complex collapsing into itself, consumed by flames that reached hundreds of feet into the air.
"Oh no," one of the rescued children whispered from the passenger area. "Was he still in there?"
Natasha and Bucky were already moving, grabbing equipment and preparing to search the wreckage, when Yelena's voice cut through their preparations.
"Wait," she said, pointing toward the inferno. "Look."
A figure was emerging from the flames—walking, not running, moving with deliberate purpose through the burning debris. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his form, but there was no mistaking who it was.
Lucien stepped clear of the destruction, his clothes torn and burnt but still intact, his expression carved from stone. The orange glow of the flames behind him created an almost demonic silhouette as he approached their position.
But it was his eyes that captured their attention—cold, calculating, carrying a fury that had been refined into something far more dangerous than simple anger.
"He looks..." Bucky started, then trailed off.
"Pissed," Yelena finished bluntly. "Very, very pissed."
As Lucien drew closer, they could see that while he was physically unharmed/
"Lucien!" Natasha called out as he reached the Quinjet. "What happened in there? Are you hurt?"
He looked up at her, and she actually took a step back at the intensity in his gaze.
"Nathaniel Essex," he said, his voice carrying absolute promise of violence. "Mister Sinister. He was never there—just a hologram. But he's out there somewhere, and when I find him..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
The rescue mission was complete, but it was clear that there was a lot that would unveil itself in the future.
.....
POWER STONE GOAL: 700 ( 1 Extra Chapter)
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