The scent of gunpowder and scorched metal still lingered in the cold air of the underground military base, a silent reminder of the chaos that had erupted just moments ago. Debris floated in the air like feathers in a windless storm, held in suspension by an unseen force. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, struggling to remain alive under the overwhelming pressure radiating from one man.
Ethan Carter walked forward with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes glowed faintly—an ethereal orange that pulsed with contained wrath. Each step he took reverberated through the very walls of the bunker, as if the Earth itself was acknowledging his presence.
Ahead of him, General Marcus Heller writhed silently in place—his body caught in a telekinetic grip so absolute that even the act of breathing felt like an effort.
Ethan stopped just a few steps away, folding his hands behind his back like a disappointed teacher confronting a troublesome student.
"I didn't expect to find a general taking orders from Stryker," Ethan said with a calmness, "It's an eye-opener."
Heller's grizzled face twisted, but there was no fear—only contempt. His jaw tightened as his narrowed eyes met Ethan's. "You mutant scum will soon be wiped off the face of our Earth," he spat. "Humans are the true owners of this planet. I understand Stryker's ideology. That's why we're working together—to put an end to your virus."
Ethan tilted his head slightly, his expression unmoved. "So, your grand plan is to kill mutants… using other mutants, huh?"
He took a slow breath and looked upward, he had already delved deep into Heller's mind the moment he destroyed the neural chip embedded at the base of his skull.
And Ethan saw everything in his mind. Stryker had stolen blueprints from Xavier's mansion—designs meant for Cerebro. But Stryker's version was twisted. He planned to reconstruct Cerebro and link it to his own son, a powerful telepath twisted into an obedient weapon, a emotionally broken and brainwashed into unwavering obedience.
The objective?
Use the boy's telepathy, amplified through Cerebro, to locate every mutant on the planet. Then, to weaponize that ability—projecting a mass psychic pulse that would end mutantkind in a single, silent genocide.
But Stryker knew Charles Xavier was the key. Even though his son was a powerful telepath, Stryker understood that Charles Xavier was among the most powerful telepaths alive—and the ideal cornerstone for his plan.
His power and precision surpassed all others. To truly control Cerebro and execute his plan flawlessly, he needed Xavier—not just as a target, but as a host.
He wanted to control Xavier to execute his plan, but he knew it wasn't possible through direct means.
His son alone wasn't strong enough to override Xavier's will. So, Stryker turned to a more grotesque strategy: collecting and linking multiple low-level telepaths together like circuit nodes to his son, creating a psychic network strong enough to break even Charles's defenses.
It was insane. But Ethan had to admit—it could have worked.
A madman's vision, fragile yet terrifyingly real if executed with precision.
"A good plan, if you ask me," Ethan murmured, his voice a cold whisper brushing against Heller's ear. "But do you know why it failed before it even began?"
He paused before locking eyes with Heller. "Because the moment you tried to mess with my girl... you opened your arms to Lady Death herself."
The general felt it first—not fear, but the wrongness of the air itself. Ethan slowly turned around, addressing the scientists and soldiers whose movements were suspended, every one of them caught in the same invisible grip.
"Don't worry," Ethan said, "I won't kill you. This is a party. Didn't I say so myself?"
The temperature dropped as the lights flickered again—this time, dimming to a faint red hue as the air began to thrum with unseen psychic force.
Ethan's eyes erupted in bright orange glow that sent a wave of telepathic energy crashing across the room.
In an instant, the world changed.
------------
**Heller's Mindscape**
Marcus Heller blinked—and the base was gone.
He was now nailed to a wooden cross floating in the middle of a blood river. Crimson tides lapped below him, warm and thick, and the sky above was a haunting orange, stained with the hues of madness. A pale white moon stared down like a blind eye of judgment.
The first sensation he felt was pain.
His arms and legs—stretched and nailed to the cross—burned with unrelenting agony. He couldn't move. Couldn't scream as his voice had been stolen from him.
Then Ethan appeared, materializing from the blood like a phantom made flesh. His expression was calm—almost amused.
"Welcome to your hell, my test subject."
A katana manifested in his hand—sleek, black, and ancient. Without pause, Ethan drove the blade into Heller's gut. Slowly. Carefully. Like a surgeon savoring the dissection.
Heller tried to scream. Tried to thrash.
But nothing worked. Only pain. Unrelenting pain.
"I learned this trick from a legend," Ethan said casually. "Ever since I gained telepathy, I've been dying to try it out." He then twisting the blade.
"Let's have some fun in the world of Tsukuyomi."
Suddenly, more Ethans emerged from the red mists—each holding their own blade. And more Hellers appeared too—twisting in the same crucified agony, screaming voicelessly.
Each Ethan stabbed. Again. And again. Every vital organ. One. By. One.
Heller's mind fractured.
What the hell is this? Who the hell is this man? Not even a mutant should have this power! Not this cruelty! Not—
Another blade plunged into his ribs.
And another.
Blood coated his vision. His eyes blurred from pain.
"Don't worry," Ethan whispered to him, "I'll make sure you never die. After all, I'm a doctor with a degree. What kind of doctor lets his… patient die too early?"
He plunged another blade through Heller's throat—slowly.
Heller's eyes rolled back. His soul wanted to retreat. But it couldn't.
Time was meaningless here. A single minute outside equaled a full day inside.
And the torture would go on. Forever until Ethan was satisfied.
---------------
**Meanwhile – Reality**
Only two minutes had passed.
The room remained still, silent except for the faint hum of power around Ethan's form. Slowly, he relaxed his eyes and released the grip of his telekinesis.
All at once, the bodies dropped like puppets whose strings had been sliced.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Soldiers. Scientists. General Heller.
They were alive. But not truly alive.
Their minds had been flayed open, stabbed again and again inside the prison of Tsukuyomi. Their eyes were wide with horror, unfocused, drool leaking from the corners of their mouths. A few muttered incoherently. Most had gone completely silent.
Ethan stood in the center of it all, surveying the aftermath with an unreadable expression.
He walked over to Heller's collapsed form. The general twitched slightly, eyes fluttering as if reliving every single second of that eternal torture.
"Pathetic," Ethan muttered, nudging Heller's chin with the toe of his boot. "Your mind broke before half the soldiers did."
He exhaled slowly, then scanned the room again. Corpses of the mentally defeated littered the ground like broken dolls. But they weren't dead.
'Stryker will be here soon,' he thought before narrowing his eyes
Suddenly, a wicked smile curled across his lips. "Let's give him a warm welcome."
---------------
While Ethan worked in silence, preparing a brutal surprise for Stryker above ground, far beneath the facility's surface, a different kind of storm had already begun.
Two figures moved like comets—Anna and Diana, gliding at blistering speed through steel corridors. The underground part of the base was labyrinthine, designed to confuse intruders. But Ethan's telepathic imprint burned bright in their minds, a psychic map guiding them with pinpoint accuracy toward their objective: the imprisoned mutants.
Ethan had given them access codes that would've unlocked every door and gate in their way. But neither woman cared for patience today.
They crashed through the first heavy metal gate like it was made of cardboard. Diana's body crushed on the door reducing the steel barrier into flying shards. Anna followed close behind, a shockwave of kinetic force surrounding her as she flew straight through the next. The alarms hadn't even finished triggering when the third gate buckled like paper and exploded inwards. They weren't interested in stealth.
The final hallway came into view—long, fortified, dimly lit, lined with thick vault-like doors. Behind those doors were the mutants.
And then the final door exploded inward like a hand-swatted flyswatter from the force of their entry.
Anna flew in first with her hair whipping like a silver flame behind her. Diana followed with her sword already drawn and shield strapped to her arm.
But the enemy had prepared. A full squadron of armed soldiers stood guard, already in formation. The earlier commotion had reached them—unanswered calls, static on the radio, and distant concussive impacts made it clear: the base was under siege.
These soldiers weren't ordinary grunts. They were part of a specialized response unit trained for mutant combat, outfitted with military-grade weapons banned in most countries.
Miniguns loaded with adamantium-infused rounds, grenades. High-intensity energy rifles that fired beams hot enough to melt steel. Sonic disrupters.
"Open fire!" shouted one of the soldiers, already pulling the trigger of his minigun.
Every weapon fired at once and it was chaos. Bullets tore through the air like a metal storm. Flashbangs exploded in blinding light. Gas grenades hissed open. A pair of soldiers rolled forward twin-tank flamethrowers, spraying fire.
But the two women didn't flinch.
The corridor lit up in flashing muzzles and streaking plasma. Bullets ricocheted violently off the women like sparks off steel. The concussive force would have torn most soldiers apart—but they didn't flinch.
Anna stood her ground, a minigun round bouncing off her cheek with nothing more than a spark. Diana raised her shield, blocking fire as she flew like a thunderbolt through the crowd. Her sword flashed, slicing through weapons and soliders like paper.
Anna moved through the chaos, flipping a soldier with a swift kick, grabbing another by the vest and slamming him into the wall hard enough to crack the cement. But despite her strength, she held back—she wasn't ready to take lives.
She crashed into a group of three soldiers like a wrecking ball, elbowing one in the gut so hard his armor bent inward like a crushed can. Another she knocked out with a spinning kick, the force sending him into a wall hard enough to dent the steel. Bones cracked, helmets shattered.
Meanwhile, Diana didn't share Anna's mercy, she hurled her shield with terrifying force. It sliced clean through a mounted turret, decapitating the gunner behind it. She caught the shield mid-spin, rolled forward, and used her sword. In one fluid motion, she cleaved a soldier's weapon in half—and then his chest armor.
Steel and flesh parted like wet paper under her blade.
She moved with practiced brutality, severing limbs, cutting down men who dared raise weapons. Her lips were pressed into a thin line of cold fury. "Cowards," she hissed before stepping over a groaning man and kicking him unconscious. "Locking up children… you don't deserve mercy."
The last of the soldiers fell. Blood painted the corridor in streaks, glinting crimson under the emergency lights.
Just as they began catching their breath, a sharp metallic click echoed in the silence.
A soldier, half-buried under fallen debris, had reached a control panel.
Red lights exploded across the ceiling. A low-pitched hum filled the air.
The air changed and Anna's limbs went slightly numb. She dropped the minigun she'd picked up like a toy seconds earlier. It clattered against the floor.
Anna's breath hitched. "Something's wrong…"
From the side, a soldier aimed a sidearm and fired. The bullet hit her square in the stomach, and this time—this time—it didn't bounce off.
Blood trickled down her abdomen. Her hand moved shakily to the wound, her palm turning red.
Diana's gaze darted around. "What is this?!" She looked back—and froze.
Anna was bleeding. A single bullet had hit her, piercing her abdomen. Blood trickled down her suit, soaking into the fabric. Her knees gave out.
"No—Anna!" Diana dashed forward, catching her before she hit the ground. "Stay with me!"
Anna groaned weakly, eyes fluttering. Her fingers trembled as they clutched her side.
"I'll take you to Ethan. He can heal you. He has to have something—magic, a potion, something." Her voice cracked. "You hear me?! Stay awake!"
Anna's lips curled into a faint, weak smile. "He's… not the only magician… in our home…"
Her bloodied hand moved to the wound. A green magic circle flickered beneath her palm. A soft hum resonated. A magic circle bloomed—Ethan's healing spell, taught personally to Anna and Jean during their intense sessions in the Mirror Dimension.
The wound began to knit together.
Diana seeing this let out a breath of relief. "Thank God. I guess you all are a family of witches and wizards."
Anna coughed, then chuckled faintly. "We're more than that."
She stood slowly, swaying slightly.
The red lights above them blinked ominously. Anna looked up, eyes narrowed. "As soon as they activated… my powers disappeared. It's a suppression field. I've seen these before. These are… dampeners. Like the ones Stryker's men used during the Xavier Mansion raid…"
Diana narrowed her eyes. "We need to shut them down. Now."
One of the barely conscious soldiers who fired at Anna coughed nearby with blood on his lips. "You think you've won…?" he sneered, fingers fumbling at his vest. "I'll… take you with me…" He pulled a grenade.
Anna's eyes widened—but her instincts kicked in. Her hand reached to the side of her belt and slid the sling ring onto her finger.
With a practiced swirl, she conjured a portal beneath the soldier it led into the sky above the base and he was dropped with the grenade still clutched in his hand, just as it exploded mid-air far above the facility.
BOOM! A faint ripple of pressure followed.
Anna closed the portal with a flick of her wrist.
She turned toward Diana, who looked both stunned and relieved.
"Let's get them out of here."
Diana nodded.
First, they destroyed the suppression lights. Anna's strength returned the moment the humming faded. Her hands clenched experimentally with a satisfied smile on her face.
Then they moved to the cells.
One by one, Anna used her sling ring to open shimmering portals in front of each mutant.
Children. Teenagers. Adults. All dirty, malnourished, bruised—but alive. Most stared at Anna and Diana in shock, awe, and fear.
"It's okay," Anna said gently, kneeling down beside a trembling girl no older than ten. "You're safe now. We're getting you out."
Then she stood up and began opening portals into the lush gardens of Xavier's Mansion. She had set the destination herself.
"Go through the portal. It leads to Xavier's School. It's safe there."
(AN: It's not.)
The girl hesitated—then ran through.
More followed. Dozens of mutants poured into Xavier's Mansion through Anna's portal. Exhausted, grateful, and confused—but safe.
As the portal closed behind the final prisoner, Anna took a deep breath and turned to Diana. "That's all of them."
Diana placed a hand on Anna's shoulder. "You saved lives today."
Anna looked down at her bloodstained hand, then at the broken corridor filled with smoke and silence. They stood in the ruin they'd carved together.
Anna exhaled and looked to Diana. "Let's go check on Ethan."
Diana nodded and both of them flew towards Ethan.
------------
The hallway was dead silent.
Stryker who just returned to the base, stepped through the main corridor of his underground facility, his heavy boots echoing with each slow, cautious stride. The silence that greeted him was not the calm of security—it was the eerie absence of life. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, a slight flicker of unease passing over his features.
Behind him walked Yuriko Oyama—his personal creation, his weapon. Clad in a black bodysuit, her long black hair flowing behind her, she walked with purpose. Her hands hung at her sides, but the tension in her arms hinted at the adamantium claws hidden within, ready to be unsheathed at a moment's notice. Her emotionless eyes scanned their surroundings like a predator, waiting for a threat to appear.
Trailing them were six highly trained soldiers, each armed with advanced military-grade weapons. Their breathing was shallow, fingers near their triggers. They had received no communications since thier arrival—not a single response from the security units stationed around the base. It was abnormal.
Stryker clicked on his wrist-mounted communicator. "Command, come in."
Silence.
"Control room, Come in."
Silence again.
He tried again. "Unit B. Come in."
He tried again. Nothing.
He stopped walking while his eyes scanning the area. "...Something's wrong. Stay alert. Weapons ready."
Yuriko silently nodded and moved forward. She placed her hand on the reinforced metal door that led to the main hall. It scanned her bio-signature and unlocked with a hiss. With a smooth push, she opened it.
Then she froze.
Her breath hitched—barely perceptible, but real.
Stryker walked forward with a furrowed brow. "What is it—"
And then he saw it.
The main hall—once pristine, polished, fortified—was now a battlefield of devastation.
Dozens of bodies—his soldiers—lay scattered one by one, like discarded dolls tossed together in a careless tantrum, forming a grotesque mountain of flesh and armor.
At the summit of this macabre mound, atop a twisted throne fashioned from steel, sat a man.
Blonde hair, sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his right hand supporting his chin in a thoughtful manner. His left hand rested casually on his knee.
He didn't look like a savage killer. He looked like a king.
Stryker's eyes widened in recognition.
"Ah. Stryker," Ethan said with a calm, honey-smooth voice that somehow echoed in the massive chamber. "You're finally here. I was hoping we could have a... deep discussion."
The soldiers behind Stryker instinctively raised their weapons.
But before they could act—Every weapon they held disintegrated in their hands, crumbling into fine ash. Their mouths opened to scream or shout in confusion, but nothing came out. Their eyes went white.
"The moment you laid eyes on me… you were already under my genjutsu."
Internally, he grinned. 'Damn, I've always wanted to say that.'
Time warped in their minds, trapping them in an illusion that shattered their will within a second. Before their bodies could drop, an invisible force swept them from their feet and slammed them to the base of the throne, stacking them atop the very bodies Ethan now sat upon.
Only two remained standing.
Only Stryker and Yuriko remained standing.
Yuriko snarled and unsheathed her claws with a metallic snikt. Her stance was perfect, predatory. Her body coiled like a spring ready to explode.
But then—Stryker stepped forward. Casually. Without fear.
"Stand down, Yuriko," he said without turning to her.
She hesitated, her eyes flicking between Stryker and Ethan.
He looked up at Ethan with a smile that held no warmth. "So... you've returned to your true home, Subject 18," he said slowly, as if savoring the name.