Synopsis: A young adult mutant who had been experimented on for nearly his entire adolescent life because of his mutant ability escaped from the experimental facility.
After destroying it and everyone inside, he escaped and was found by the X-Men, the Brotherhood, and the Hellfire Club.
Which side will he choose: the heroes, the villains, or the other side? How will he live his life now that he is in the real world?
Notes I suggest you read.
1. I will use most of the information and plot points from the MCU and Fox X-Men movies, along with some things from the comics that I find interesting.
2. This is an AU, so things will be different from canon. If you notice any characters or discrepancies in the world or timeline, they are either part of my plan or something.
3. This is a Harem; what can I say, I love harems. But yeah, will it be a Pokémon or a small or medium-sized harem? I don't know the exact number. Maybe 7, more or less. I have seven girls planned; some may happen, some may not.
4. There will be occasional adult scenes in this novel.
5. No Rape, no NTR, no yaoi. For Yuri, I really don't know. For Sol-Rao, he has too much pride to see one of his girls have sex with another one of his girls, but Cain is different, and this is Marvel, where marvelous things can happen.
Chapter 1: Subject: 666, I
—Third-Person POV—
Deep within a remote forest, far from any nearby town or heavily traveled road, stood a large building that looked like an ordinary wood-chipping farm.
Workers moved throughout the property, carrying lumber, operating heavy machinery, and performing all the usual tasks expected of people employed at such a place.
From the outside, there was nothing particularly suspicious about it. Beneath that convincing appearance, however, was a hidden underground base where captured mutants were imprisoned and experimented on.
Inside the base were long corridors lined with reinforced cells. Many mutants simply sat inside them with their heads hanging low, their bodies weak and their spirits broken.
The light in their eyes had nearly been extinguished after years of captivity, pain, and hopelessness. Most of them no longer spoke unless ordered to.
However, above the entrance of one particular cell, the number 666 had been written in bold, faded lettering.
Inside that cell was a young man with long, untamed silver hair that fell messily around his face. His bright golden eyes stared upward at the dark night sky, focusing primarily on the moon.
Its pale, reflected light passed through the narrow opening above his cell and pierced the darkness surrounding him, providing one of the only sources of natural light he had seen in years.
His body was malnourished yet muscular, creating a disturbing contradiction. His bones were visible beneath his skin, but what remained of his physique was lean and powerful, hardened by years of suffering and his body's stubborn refusal to die.
Scars, cuts, puncture wounds, surgical incisions, burns, and countless other injuries covered him from head to toe. Some had healed long ago, while others were still fresh enough to ache whenever he moved.
The most important things about him, however, were the thick chains restraining his limbs and the metallic collar locked around his neck.
The chains were strong enough to keep him pinned down, while the collar suppressed his mutant abilities and prevented him from using them to escape.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor outside. The young man paid them no attention. He assumed it was merely a routine guard transfer and that whoever was approaching would pass his cell without stopping.
He had spent enough time in the facility to memorize those details. Guard shifts, meal deliveries, inspections, and scheduled experiments all followed recognizable patterns with only slight differences, and even those were rare.
"Hey, 666! It's time for another checkup!" an aggressive voice shouted from outside the young man's cell.
At those words, the young man looked up in genuine surprise. According to the schedule he had memorized, he should have been left alone for at least another few weeks.
"What do you mean? I just got back from one a few hours ago!" he snapped. "You already took ten pints of my blood and spinal fluid. What do you want now, my fucking sperm?"
His voice was hoarse, as though it had not been properly used in a long time, but it was still filled with anger and contempt. His words were as vulgar as they were disturbing.
"God, I forgot how disturbing your vocabulary is," the guard muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "Well, you don't get a say, you disgusting thing."
The guard unlocked the cell door before pulling it open and pointing his gun directly at the young man's head. For a moment, the young man considered fighting back.
The thought came naturally, almost instinctively. He had tried it once, years ago, and he could still remember what happened afterward.
The guards had punished not only him but also several prisoners whose mutations they considered less useful.
Those prisoners had suffered far worse consequences than he had simply because the researchers viewed them as disposable.
Remembering their screams, the young man slowly rose and followed the guard without resistance.
"Ah, you're finally here. I hope you aren't too shocked by the unexpected appointment. I was recently able to develop a new booster, but I need someone suitable to test it on."
An aged voice came from the shadows of the examination room. A short, unsettling man stepped into the light, holding a vial filled with a strange liquid.
The substance appeared almost too thick to be injected, and its color shifted slightly whenever the doctor turned the vial, and it caught the light from a particular angle.
He looked at the young man with an eager, hungry glint in his eyes, as though he were examining an especially valuable laboratory animal rather than another human being.
The young man said nothing, nor did he make any move to cooperate. His golden eyes remained fixed on the vial, carefully studying it and the doctor holding it.
Growing impatient, the guard grabbed him, shoved him down onto the operating table, and tightened several reinforced restraints around his wrists, ankles, waist, and chest.
He was positioned face down so the doctor could inject the mysterious substance directly into his back, more specifically into the area surrounding his spine.
"Now, boy, you've been here for what? Eight years? Nine, if I remember correctly?" the doctor asked in a casual, conversational tone.
Without waiting for an answer, the doctor forced the needle into the young man's back and injected the strange substance into his spinal cord.
The young man made no sound and forced himself not to move, but sweat immediately gathered across his forehead.
His fingers curled tightly against the operating table as the substance spread from his spine and coursed through his bloodstream.
It felt as though molten metal had been poured directly into his veins, burning through every nerve it touched.
'Dear God, this hurts like a bitch. If I can ever get my hands on him... Even if I die afterward, it won't matter. As long as I can kill everyone else first, I'll die satisfied.'
He could do nothing except close his eyes, grit his teeth, and hope the injection would not kill him.
At the very least, he did not want to die before he had the opportunity to kill the doctor and everyone else responsible for this place.
Before he could even begin recovering as he usually did, the doctor prepared another vial and injected a second dose into his back.
This time, the young man could not remain still. His entire body violently convulsed as he thrashed against the restraints.
The metal bindings dug into his wrists and ankles, reopening several wounds and staining the table beneath him with blood.
His muscles seized uncontrollably, his vision became clouded, and a small amount of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth.
"Hm," the doctor murmured, watching the instruments beside the table rather than the suffering prisoner.
"There appears to be no immediate sign of degeneration. We can end the procedure here. Take him back."
The doctor spoke in a flat, disinterested tone, as if he had not just injected an unknown substance directly into another person's spine and watched them convulse from the pain.
The guard followed the order without hesitation. He released the restraints and roughly lifted the young man from the operating table, since he was no longer capable of walking on his own.
Despite being accustomed to the experiments and the experimentees, the guard wore an expression suggesting that he had just touched the most disgusting creature in the world.
"Hey, Doctor," the young man rasped, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "I hope that when I finally get out of here, and I'm standing over you, ready to kill you, you beg. Once you do, I'll smile while I break you apart, piece by piece, just..."
He spoke in a hollow voice, with malice dripping from every word. His golden eyes locked onto the doctor with such concentrated hatred that, for the first time, one of the nearby assistants visibly recoiled.
Before he could finish his threat or continue staring the doctor down, the guard tightened his grip and pressed the barrel of his gun against the side of the young man's head.
"I wonder if you could say that again?" the guard asked, his finger resting against the trigger. "Go on. Finish what you were saying. I dare you"
The young man remained silent. After a tense moment, he lowered his head like a dog that had been chastised and threatened by a larger, more violent animal.
The submissive gesture meant nothing to him, but he understood when to stop provoking someone who currently held all the power. Satisfied, the guard dragged him away.
The doctor did not take the young man's threat seriously, nor did he pay any attention to the guard's reprimand. As soon as they left the room, he returned to studying the results displayed on his instruments.
The young man was not experiencing any of the normal degeneration caused by the doctor's injections.
Test subjects usually suffered organ damage, tissue breakdown, mental instability, or complete physical collapse.
Subject 666's body, however, was doing everything within its power to keep itself alive, rapidly adjusting to substances that should have killed him several times over.
Exactly how his body was accomplishing that was what the doctor intended to discover, regardless of how many procedures it required.
When the guard reached the young man's cell, he opened the reinforced door and threw him inside without the slightest concern for his condition.
His body struck the floor hard, sending another wave of pain through his spine. The guard locked the door and returned to his post without looking back.
The young man remained where he had fallen, staring at the ceiling with an expression of pure hatred.
There was so much hatred, rage, and bloodlust inside him that it seemed almost impossible for one human being to contain it all.
In fact, if he had been living in a Xianxia world, the intensity of his murderous intent might have manifested as a visible aura of blood and death surrounding his body.
'I only need one chance. Just one. If I get it, I can kill them ALL.' His fingers slowly curled against the floor.
'Or I could die trying. Either way, at least I'd die happy, unlike those bitches who think being a slave is acceptable as long as they're still alive.'
While the young man knew his mutation was not as immediately destructive as many others, it compensated for that supposed weakness with sheer versatility.
If he were given even a few seconds of freedom, practically anything around him could become a weapon.
The mutation in question was telekinesis.
Whether his power was the sole reason he had been captured and experimented on remained unknown to him.
The doctors rarely explained anything unless they were taunting him, and even then, there was no guarantee they were telling the truth.
What he did know was that he needed only one disturbance, one careless mistake, or one moment without the collar suppressing his abilities. If he received that opportunity, he believed he could kill everyone in the base.
'Mom... Dad... I wonder what would've happened if I had never been born this way.'
The young man could not stop himself from thinking about them. Memories of his family were among the only things still capable of grounding him in reality.
Without them, he suspected he would have become another near-mindless husk like the mutants in the neighboring cells.
'Why do I keep fighting? I don't have anything waiting for me if I survive. All the friends I made have probably forgotten about me by now.'
He swallowed and turned his gaze toward the narrow opening above him.
'But it doesn't matter. I'll figure all that shit out once I'm free and everyone here is dead.'
As that thought passed through his mind, he stared at the moon and tried to find some kind of guiding light within it.
It was one of the only things he could see from inside his godforsaken cell, and it was like his guiding light, that reminded him that an entire world still existed beyond these walls.
"You know, I was starting to wonder where you went."
A feminine voice came from somewhere beyond the wall. It was familiar enough to draw a small trace of joy from the young man, which was especially noticeable given the condition he was in.
"Black," he said, slowly turning his head toward the voice. "How have you been? Better than me, I hope."
The young man was speaking to one of the few people with whom he could communicate in a facility where people like him were imprisoned and experimented on.
He had somehow managed to form a strange friendship with a girl whose face he had never even seen.
Most of their conversations took place through a wall, with neither of them able to see the other clearly, but speaking to her was much better than constantly speaking to himself.
He had enough problems without allowing complete isolation to drive him insane. Well, more insane than he already was.
"I've been better, but what happened to you?" Black asked from the other side of the wall. "You weren't supposed to be called in for another few weeks."
Concern entered her voice as she leaned closer.
The young man hesitated briefly before describing the experience he had just endured. He told her about the unscheduled procedure, the strange booster, and the two injections the doctor had forced into his spine.
He left out some of the more gruesome details, but his hoarse voice and labored breathing revealed enough.
"I'm sorry," Black said after a long silence. "I'm sorry that I can't help you. If there were anything I could do, I would do it."
She leaned against the outer wall and lowered her head, feeling useless despite how sincere her words were.
The young man could not help smiling ruefully.
If he had heard those words several years earlier, they might have filled him with hope. Back then, he might have believed that someone would eventually rescue him.
Now, however, they only served as a cruel reminder that his chances of ever leaving the facility were nearly nonexistent.
"Hey, don't be like that," 666 said, weakly shaking his head. "If you spend all your time thinking about what you would do if things were different, you'll never move forward."
He knew she could not rescue him, and he refused to burden her with the guilt of something beyond her control.
If speaking with her was the only comfort available to him, then that was enough for now.
"Hey, you said something about a new movie you wanted to see yesterday," 666 continued, deliberately steering the conversation away from his torment. "How was it?"
He remembered the movie from an offhand comment she had made during one of her previous visits.
She had only mentioned it once, but there were very few new things in his life, which made every detail she shared easier to remember.
Well, any detail was easy for him to remember, but ones like this were extremely easy, since he actually cared.
"Oh, you actually remembered that?" Black asked, unable to hide her surprise.
Not even her family had remembered that she wanted to see the movie. At least, they had not remembered until she had already left to watch it and suddenly needed her for something.
"Of course I remembered. You know me. I pay attention to things," 666 replied. "For example, I noticed the doctor has been moving our experiments closer together.
He's rushing them now, so someone must be breathing down his neck, or maybe he's running out of time for something." He had noticed the growing urgency surrounding the facility's lead scientist and head doctor.
The guards were more agitated, the researchers moved through the halls more quickly, and the experiments had become increasingly frequent.
He could only hope the pressure would eventually force one of them to make a mistake.
"Oh. I, um... I don't know what to say. I..." Black trailed off, momentarily speechless. She had never expected to hear something like that from him.
While she knew some of what happened inside the facility, 666 rarely described his experiences in any detail.
He usually hid the worst parts behind crude jokes, casual threats, or abrupt changes in the conversation. Before she could continue, 666 cut her off.
"Hey, I shouldn't have brought that up," he said. "Let's get back to the movie. Was it a superhero movie? Something about Captain America, maybe? A reenactment of one of Cap's missions?"
He remembered the admiration in her voice whenever she spoke about Captain America, so it seemed like the kind of movie she would have gone out of her way to see.
Black remained silent for another moment. The person trapped beneath the ground, isolated from the rest of the world, had somehow paid closer attention to her than most of the people she encountered every day.
"Yeah, it was," she eventually admitted, though she did not elaborate. "Anyway, it was nice talking to you, but I told you about my dad and how much of a stickler he is for rules. It's time for me to go."
Black rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her clothes. Before leaving, however, she dragged over a ladder and carefully climbed high enough to reach the opening leading into his cell.
She then dropped something through it. "Wah?" 666 blurted out in confusion when the object landed nearby with a quiet clatter.
He slowly crawled toward it and discovered that Black had dropped an electric shaver into his cell. A faint smile crept across his face as he stared at the device.
It was small and ordinary, something most people would never consider dangerous. To someone with his abilities and years of desperation, however, it was far more than a grooming tool.
The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.
He concealed the electric shaver beneath his body and slowly allowed himself to fall onto his side, pretending exhaustion had finally overwhelmed him.
His eyes closed, but he did not immediately fall asleep. Instead, his mind raced through possibilities as the beginnings of a plan took shape.