VCM A research facility sat in a secluded suburb of New York, shrouded in secrecy. In one of its quiet rooms, a sudden crimson flash illuminated the dim space.
Three figures materialized— Azazel, Yuriko, and Ethan.
"I have to admit, your ability makes things a lot more convenient," Ethan remarked, eyeing the teleporter with appreciation.
Thanks to Azazel's power, their trips to the facility were almost entirely undetectable.
"An honor to be of service," Azazel replied smoothly, offering a slight bow with a smirk.
The door creaked open, and the White Queen stepped inside. "You're here."
With her telepathic abilities, she had sensed their arrival the moment Azazel initiated the teleport.
Ethan's gaze wandered around the room. "So, this is our research facility. Looks decent enough. Funding shouldn't be a problem, right?"
The White Queen's expression remained poised. "When Hammer Industries collapsed, we managed to extract Forty-three billion dollars in liquid assets.
Financially, we're stable for now. But I'd advise letting the money sit for a while. No matter how skilled Ivan Vanko was at laundering funds, there are always those with sharp noses."
"You mean S.H.I.E.L.D.," Ethan stated flatly, glancing at her. "You can stop worrying. I spoke to Fury. He's not touching the Hammer Industries mess."
The White Queen's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "That's reassuring."
"The facility's set, the funds are secured. Now, we need people." Ethan shifted his focus back to her. "I gave you a list. They're not exactly famous, but they're skilled. Have you found them?"
"Two of them arrived just recently, thanks to Azazel. Since you're here, you should meet them." She turned and pushed the door open wider.
Before she could say more, a young man with short blond hair, no older than seventeen or eighteen, stepped into the doorway. Ethan froze mid-step.
"John?"
"Ethan?!" The blond-haired youth blinked, just as stunned.
There was no mistaking him—John, better known as Pyro, had once been Ethan's roommate.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Ethan said, his tone unreadable.
He suddenly recalled noticing John's empty seat in class over the past couple of days.
At the time, he had been too preoccupied to dwell on it.
Now it was obvious—John had made his move.
Somehow, he had found his way to Magneto's camp.
And knowing Magneto, placing John in his path wasn't a coincidence.
"I could say the same to you," John replied, his expression just as conflicted.
Then, as if something clicked, a grin spread across his face. "Wait, this means we were thinking the same thing all along! It was the right choice to ditch Professor X and join Magneto."
Ethan's expression turned amused.
"Betray? I haven't betrayed Professor X. I'm just working with Magneto on some things. Xavier knows about it. Actually, I just skipped class—I'll be back this afternoon."
John stared at him, dumbfounded. "Wait… what?"
He understood each word Ethan said, but together, they made no sense. "You can do that?"
Ethan chuckled, patting John on the shoulder. "The relationship between Professor X and Magneto is more complicated than you think."
He gave him a pointed look. "By the way, you coming back to class this afternoon?"
John hesitated. He had enjoyed the freedom Magneto offered, but deep down, he knew the truth—when it came to actual guidance, no one was better than Xavier.
"Can I really go back?" John asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
He had spent so much time thinking that leaving the school was his only real choice. The strict rules about mutant abilities had felt suffocating, but that didn't mean he hadn't missed certain parts of it.
"Of course," Ethan said casually. "If you want to show off your powers, go ahead. Just attend your classes, and if Professor X asks about it, tell him I said it was fine."
John's eyes widened slightly. He stared at Ethan for a long moment before shaking his head with a smirk. "You know, back at Alkali Lake, I never would've believed my roommate would be the one strong enough to shake the Phoenix."
"And now?" Ethan asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Now, I've decided—I'm sticking with you," John said firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice. For all his arrogance, he knew how to recognize power, and Ethan had it in spades. John wasn't dumb enough to ignore that.
Ethan laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Good choice. And as your new leader, I promise not to let you starve. I'll even buy you a Coke when we get back."
John rolled his eyes but chuckled. Ethan, however, was already thinking ahead. He needed to start bringing in other mutants with serious potential.
Bobby Drake, Piotr Rasputin—guys who weren't just strong but had the right mindset.
The right skills.
A dimly lit room. Sterile. Too clean. A middle-aged man opened his eyes, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
He knew instantly that this wasn't the place where he had been held before.
The simple yet modern interior didn't scream 'prison cell,' but it was far from comforting. As he slowly sat up, he noticed someone else in the room—a wiry man in his fifties knocking insistently on the door, though it was clearly locked tight.
The older man eventually gave up and turned around, noticing him awake. With an easygoing smile, he walked over and extended his hand.
"Hey there, glad to see you're up. Let's get introductions out of the way. Name's Holden Radcliffe. Scientist."
The man hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. "Dr. Samuel Sterns. Also a scientist."
Radcliffe's eyebrows lifted slightly at the name, but he kept his expression neutral. "Well, that clears up one thing—whoever brought us here needs our knowledge. That's why we're still breathing."
Sterns frowned slightly, glancing around. "Wouldn't be the first time someone tried to use my research for their own agenda. I thought I had accounted for every possibility, but it looks like I underestimated them."
"Join the club," Radcliffe said dryly. Still, despite the situation, he felt a little reassured. If they needed his expertise, they wouldn't kill him—at least, not right away.
He leaned back against the wall, deep in thought. Then something clicked. He had heard that name before.
"Wait a second—Samuel Sterns. Dr. Sterns," Radcliffe muttered. His eyes widened as recognition hit. "A while back, I heard some military guys talking about you. You had something to do with… the Abomination, didn't you?"
Dr. Stern's voice rose in frustration as he paced the room.
"That wasn't my fault! I only wanted to help Dr. Banner, to understand his blood. Cloning it, replicating it—that was purely for scientific research! Everything was under control until Ross got involved.
He was the one who brought in that lunatic, and he forced me to inject Hulk's blood into him. I didn't have a choice!"
Radcliffe raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax, I get it. Believe me, I do. If I had access to Hulk's blood, I would've done the same thing without hesitation."
Dr. Stern took a deep breath, eyeing the door across the room. "I'm getting out of here."
Radcliffe chuckled dryly. "Yeah? Good luck with that. If escaping was that easy, don't you think I'd be gone by now? It's not even an electronic lock—just a standard mechanical one. Can you believe that? The people running this place really need to modernize."
Ignoring him, Dr. Stern approached the door, rolling his shoulders before clenching his fists.
Without hesitation, he rammed his shoulder into the door. The first impact sent a dull thud through the room.
The second cracked the hinges.
By the third, the door burst open, swinging wildly as it crashed against the wall.
Radcliffe's jaw dropped. "Seriously? Are you actually a scientist?"
Dr. Stern shot him a dry look. "I just applied physics. That's still scientific, isn't it?" Then, without another word, he strode out of the room.
"Hey, wait up!" Radcliffe hurried after him. In a place as shady as this, sticking with the guy who could break down doors seemed like the best idea.
As they moved through the facility, the sterile corridors stretched endlessly ahead.
The place looked like a high-tech research institute, its walls lined with rooms full of cutting-edge equipment.
Researchers walked by, barely sparing them a glance, which only deepened Radcliffe's unease.
If no one was concerned about two strangers wandering the halls, what kind of place was this?
Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor and stepped through a set of double doors.
The sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks.
Rows of massive glass tanks lined the room, each filled with a glowing green liquid.
Suspended within were grotesque, half-formed creatures, their mutated bodies twitching in the fluid.
Biochemical petri dishes covered the lab tables, containing experiments that looked far from ethical.
A sharp voice cut through the eerie silence. "Didn't I say no one enters without my authorization?"
A tall man in his sixties, wearing thick glasses, stepped forward.
He scanned the two scientists with a mix of confusion and irritation. "Who are you? I don't recognize you."
Before either Radcliffe or Stern could answer, another voice entered the conversation.
"They're your new colleagues, Dr. Cornelius."
The doors opened again, and three figures stepped inside.
The first was a woman with an air of authority, the second a tall, red-skinned man with a devilish grin.
But it was the last figure who drew all the attention.
He wore a sleek black suit and a sleek metallic mask, his presence exuding an almost unnatural confidence.
"Director, Deputy Director, and, Mr. Accelerator..." Cornelius muttered, nodding in acknowledgment.
Then his gaze settled on two newcomers. "And you two must be?—"
"When a guest arrives, it's only polite to greet them properly. Allow me to do the introductions." The masked young man stepped forward, his voice calm yet authoritative.
"First, this is Dr. Cornelius, the chief scientist of our facility. And these two are Dr. Holden Radcliffe and Dr. Samuel Stern." His introduction trailed off as he noticed Stern step forward.
"I don't care about introductions." Stern's voice was firm, his expression steely. "You're the one in charge here, so listen carefully—I just want to go home and see my family."
The young man, still masked, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax, Dr. Stern. Your family is safe. Your wife, your parents, everyone—they've been well taken care of. You can see them whenever you want."
Stern's eyes darkened with rage. "You kidnapped them?!" He lunged forward, his fist swinging straight for the masked man's face.
"Boom!" The punch was caught mid-air with effortless precision.
The young man barely flinched, though he acknowledged the sheer force behind the strike.
If that had hit an ordinary person, they'd be crippled—if not dead.
"Interesting." He finally spoke, gripping Stern's fist slightly before releasing it. He could feel it—raw, untapped power. "You've been injected with Hulk's blood. Not much, but enough."
Stern's green-tinged pupils flickered as he pulled back his hand. "I had no choice. If I hadn't, I'd be dead. The Abomination's rampage would've killed me in seconds."
The masked man folded his arms. "That explains a lot. The military locked you up because you're dangerous. You hold classified knowledge about the Hulk's origins. You even experimented with containing the Hulk yourself.
And then there's the little detail about you cultivating Hulk's blood in secret—the very thing that led to the Abomination's creation.
Now that the military has shut down the Super Soldier program, they had no choice but to lock you up."
Stern's fists clenched, but his voice remained steady. "I never wanted to be another Abomination. I know the horror of that power. I don't want to become some mindless monster.
The blood in me has been carefully modified and diluted. At most, it boosts my strength and endurance to five times that of an average human for a short period. After that, I enter a weakened state. I've always controlled it. I've never let it take over."
The masked man tilted his head, intrigued. "Instead of waiting for someone to grant you freedom, why not take it yourself?"
Stern's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you can change my situation?"
"I'm saying it won't hurt to trust me. Things can't get much worse for you, can they?"
Stern exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Fine. I'm listening."
The masked man smirked, then turned his gaze toward Radcliffe, who had been eerily silent, his attention locked onto the Red Devil.
"You... you're a mutant, aren't you?" Radcliffe stepped closer, studying him with fascination. "Before I blacked out, I remember a flash of red light—and then you appeared. You're a teleporter, aren't you?"
His gaze then shifted toward the masked man and the White Queen. "Then that means... you two are mutants as well."
The White Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. If this scientist harbored any prejudice against mutants, she would have no issue wiping his memory clean and reshaping his mind into something more useful. It would be tedious, but necessary.
But Radcliffe's reaction wasn't fear—it was awe.
"This is... incredible!" Radcliffe suddenly burst out, his excitement barely contained. He circled the masked man, his hands twitching as if itching to take notes. "Your strength, your control, your abilities—oh, and his teleportation! It's all magnificent!"
He turned sharply to the White Queen. "I've theorized countless pathways for human evolution. Full or partial cybernetic enhancements. Complete digitization.
Energy-based transformations. But mutants? Mutants are the answer! No—calling you mutants is wrong. That term is derogatory. You are New Humans!"
Radcliffe let out a breathless laugh. "And to think, you personally orchestrated my capture? That was the smartest decision anyone could have made!
You need me. I specialize in biology, cybernetics, artificial intelligence—I can help. Just tell me what you need!" His words spilled out in a rush, his excitement almost manic.
The White Queen and the Red Devil exchanged a glance. Was this man... insane?
The masked man, however, only chuckled. He understood exactly why Radcliffe was reacting this way.
"Welcome aboard, Dr. Radcliffe." He extended a hand.
Radcliffe eagerly grasped it, his eyes gleaming with ambition.
This man—Holden Radcliffe—was no ordinary scientist. He was an extremist, obsessed with human evolution.
He had once developed the technology to mass-produce Inhumans under Hive's influence.
In this world, where the line between Inhumans and mutants blurred, Radcliffe's knowledge was invaluable.
And speaking of Inhumans... the masked man made a mental note. If the opportunity arose, he would have to pay them a visit.