As far back as my memory allows, death was always described to me as the end of all suffering — the key to peace, the doorway to either eternal bliss or eternal torment. Heaven for the worthy, hell for the damned.
But whatever this is… it is neither.
I've been here for what feels like centuries — stranded, weightless, floating in an endless, oppressive void. No light, no warmth, no sound except for the hollow echo of my own thoughts. At first, I clung to the idea of keeping track of time, counting each second as if it were a lifeline. But seconds bled into minutes, into hours, into years, until the numbers lost meaning.
Loneliness settled into me like frostbite. My own mind became my only companion, and even that began to turn against me.
Then, the voices came. At first faint… whispers, like radio static from another world. I froze, panic gripping me, the horrifying thought blooming in my mind — what if my body was still alive somewhere? What if I was trapped in a coma, my mind imprisoned here while the world moved on without me?
I tried everything — screaming, clawing at the nothingness, begging to wake up. But the void swallowed every word, every plea, without an echo.
Time became a cruel joke. I was broken, my thoughts fraying like old fabric. And yet… after enough time, even something broken learns to mend itself, not out of hope, but out of instinct. I adapted. I became something that could survive the darkness.
[POV Shift – Unknown Observer]
The activation rate of the X-gene in the last century has been… exponential. In raw numbers, mutants are appearing at unprecedented rates. Yet, the quality of these emerging specimens? Disappointing.
So many of them — mutations barely scratching the surface of potential, physical changes that invite fear and persecution but little else. Humanity reacts as it always does: with fear, with segregation, with violence. Pitiful men. They cannot comprehend what they fear, which is fortunate — their hostility serves as adversary. And adversary, as I well know, breeds evolution.
Adversity is the crucible that forges stronger mutations. Occasionally, the rare miracle occurs — the phenomenon of a secondary mutation. A true escalation of power, refinement beyond the original potential. Such individuals are rare enough to count on a single hand.
En Sabah Nur… Apocalypse. He was one of the lucky few — until the day his luck will run out. When that day comes, I will be there.
And now… finally… a development worth my attention. The clone's X-gene has begun to stir. The process is early, but the signs are undeniable. Soon, she will awaken, and with her awakening, I will have what I have long sought — Crafted to my design. Loyal by nature. And perhaps… the one force capable of bringing an ancient empire to its knees.
[POV Shift]
The voices have grown louder — not just words now, but thoughts. I hear what they think, no matter what their lips say. And the more I listen, the more my perspective of them shifts. They speak of care, of purpose, of order… but in their hearts, they harbor greed, fear, and selfish ambition.
I've learned more than I ever wanted, and my greatest revelation is this — I am not in my world anymore. I am in the Marvel Universe.
I have seen it through the eyes of those who hold me captive: a woman with dark red hair, pale skin, and a beautiful form… sealed inside a glass tank. My anger toward these people has burned hotter with each passing day, but one name sends a cold shiver through me: Doctor Nathaniel Essex — the infamous Mister Sinister. The greatest geneticist alive, a powerful mutant, a man who in countless iterations wields an arsenal of powers — self-cloning among them. A super-cockroach in human form, impossible to kill, no matter how many times death finds him.
And so, I withdrew. I shut myself off from the world, slipping into a pseudo-hibernation, waiting for… something. Anything.
That something came when my confinement shattered. I awoke to a pale man standing over me, a crimson diamond gleaming from the center of his forehead, his long robe split into flowing panels. He extended his hand toward me.
"Hello, darling," he said with a smile that was both charming and unsettling. "Welcome to the world, Madelyne Pryor"