Hal stood beside the unconscious doctor, staring down at her with cold, unreadable eyes. The alarm blared around him like a siren of judgment. The hammer-shaped construct he'd conjured had struck her cleanly at the back of the head. Whether she lived for him to ask more questions or died without a word, it doesn't really matter to him, but it would be nice to ask some questions. He touched her neck, to feel any beat. There is one.
His gaze drifted to the tablet still clutched in her limp hands. He pried it free and tapped the screen. Password locked. He clicked his tongue. Of course it was.
Tucking the tablet under his arm, he conjured a flat green platform and gently lifted the doctor onto it. Then, without a word, he turned and made his way toward the main building.
—
When Hal stepped outside, the only sound was the shrieking alarm that cut through the air like a blade. For a moment, everything seemed still. Then a shout rang out from above.
"Hey! Watch out!"
It was Dani, yelling from one of the upper windows of the main building. She was pointing behind him.
Hal turned—and saw the turret locking on.
A split second later, a barrage of bullets tore through the air. The impact struck him dead center, but the rounds clattered uselessly to the ground, unable to pierce his skin. An orange energy shimmered around his body, growing more intense with every hit.
At first, he stood his ground, absorbing the assault. But then he noticed the stray rounds—ricocheting, unpredictable, dangerous. One could hit Gregor. Or worse, someone inside.
His expression darkened.
With a swift motion, Hal raised his hand and conjured a broad, translucent green wall in front of him. From its edge, a brick-shaped construct launched like a cannonball. It struck the turret dead-on.
Boom. The explosion shattered nearby windows, smoke blooming in the air.
But the victory was short-lived. The wrecked turret sank into the ground, swallowed like trash by the earth. A new one rose in its place, pristine and ready.
Hal exhaled sharply, unimpressed.
"Figures."
Without wasting another thought, he turned and continued his march toward the main building, staying out of the turret's line of sight as the alarm wailed around him.
When Hal reached the main doors of the building, he gripped the handles and pulled—only to find them locked. Of course they were.
He stepped closer, planting his feet and digging his fingers into the narrow seam between the reinforced steel slabs. He pulled. Nothing. Not even a creak.
With a frustrated sigh, he stepped back and closed his eyes. He reached inward, past the noise, past the panic, and into the part of his mind where the memories lived—cold, quiet, and raw.
He remembered the bed. The sterile white ceiling. The beeping machines. The endless days spent not dying, but not really living either. He remembered the kind nurses who came and went, the silence that lingered after they left. A flicker of warmth crossed his heart—nostalgia, maybe. But he pushed past it.
He found what he was looking for.
Rage.
Why was that his fate? Why did he waste away in isolation while others lived freely? Why him?
It wasn't fair. And he hated it.
A red glow sparked around his body like a fire being lit. His muscles tensed, and without hesitation, he stepped forward and wrenched the doors apart. Steel screamed in protest as they tore open, crumpling like foil under his fury.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. His fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, he stood there in the doorway, ready to destroy something—anything.
But then he slowed his breathing. He reached for another memory, one newer. A reminder that he wasn't helpless anymore. That he wasn't chained to a hospital bed, fading away. Not now. Now he had power. Now he had a choice.
The red aura faded, and he steadied himself.
Turning around, he saw Gregor lying on the ground—her platform gone, dissipated with his lapse in focus. With a flick of his hand, another one formed beneath her, lifting her gently off the floor.
Without another word, Hal stepped through the ruined doorway and entered the building.
He'd barely taken a few steps down the corridor when a new obstacle appeared—another resident. Roberto.
The guy came running, nearly skidding to a stop in front of Hal, breathing hard, eyes wide with alarm. Hal could feel it—the fear radiating off him like freezing wind.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Roberto shouted, his voice cracking. His eyes dropped to the unconscious woman floating beside Hal. "W–What? Is that the doctor? Wait… where's your wristband?"
"I destroyed it," Hal answered flatly. "Yes, this is the doctor. And I'm escaping."
Roberto blinked, stunned. "Are you nuts?! The turrets—! Okay, maybe you can walk through the bullets like a goddamn tank, but the rest of us can't!"
"I'll take care of the turrets," Hal said, calm but firm. "We're getting out."
"And go where, exactly?" Roberto scoffed. "You think you can just stroll off the grid after blowing a hole through the front door? They'll hunt us. They'll make us disappear."
"Look, I'm doing you a favor here."
Roberto laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "A favor? You've been here what, three weeks or less? You don't know anything about this place. About us. Did you even stop to think that maybe… some of us don't want to escape?"
Hal didn't blink. "Then I'll force you."
Roberto stared, disbelief written all over his face.
"They're storing your DNA," Hal continued, his voice low, cold. "You're not a patient to them. You're a specimen. A lab rat."
"Maybe they're looking for a cure," Roberto snapped back. "Or… or trying to find ways to help us. Maybe they're trying to understand what we are."
"Being a mutant isn't a disease," Hal said, steady. "We don't need a cure."
The alarm continued to blare above them, shrill and relentless. Hal glanced down at the floor for a moment, exhaling slowly.
"Look," he said, softer now. "Just come with me. See what she's been hiding. If I'm wrong—if she's clean—I'll stop. I'll take the fall for all of it."
Roberto stared at him for a long moment, then muttered under his breath, "You're insane."
But he stepped aside.
"Fine."
—
Hal stood in the wreckage of Gregor's office, alongside Roberto. The room was a mess—papers scattered across the floor, cabinet drawers torn out and overturned. The door had been ripped from its hinges, another casualty of Hal's brute force during the lockdown.
They'd been tearing through every desk and storage unit they could find, searching for answers. And they found them.
Hal skimmed through the files with growing unease. This wasn't a case of misplaced trust—it was worse than that. They were never patients here. They were assets. Weapons in development.
Each resident had their own file, neatly labeled and coldly analyzed.
Rahne Sinclair
Personality: Docile
Ability: Animal Morphing
Conclusion: Train for task force
Roberto da Costa
Personality: Headstrong, but moldable
Ability: Solar Energy Channeling
Conclusion: Train for task force
And on it went. Until he found one labeled:
Illyana Rasputin
Personality: Chaotic, rebellious, feral
Ability: Unknown, possibly portal creation
Conclusion: Monitor personality development. If untamable—terminate.
If ability confirmed as portal creation—educate at all costs.
Then he found his own.
Hal Rayner
Personality: Rebellious, but amnesiac
Ability: Unknown. Suspected multiple. Confirmed: Emotion detection, psychic immunity
Conclusion: Train for task force
Hal's expression darkened. This definitely wasn't protection. This was conditioning.
Across the room, he heard Roberto muttering, "Where's Dani's file?"
Hal turned to a folder set aside. He opened it.
Danielle Moonstar
Personality: Docile
Ability: Fear manifestation—high volatility
Conclusion: Monitor power development. If uncontrollable—terminate
Hal handed the file to Roberto, who stared at it like it was a death sentence. "They're going to kill her?" he whispered.
Hal didn't answer. He was staring at the cover of the file in his hands—at the small, printed seal in the corner. Not HYDRA. Not some shady underground group like he'd half-expected.
S.W.O.R.D.
Sentient World Observation and Response Department
It wasn't a rogue operation. It was the government.
He clenched his fists. "I need to find where they're storing the blood samples," he said grimly. "If they've already sent them to HQ, we're out of luck—but whatever's still here, I'm destroying it."
Roberto nodded absentmindedly, still fixated on the files.
"Roberto?" Hal called. No response. "Roberto!"
The boy snapped out of it. "W–What?"
"Do you still want to stay here?" Hal asked quietly.
"I… I don't know," Roberto said, eyes flicking down to the papers in his hands. "My parents sent me here to get cured… to be normal…"
"They're not going to cure you," Hal said flatly. "They're going to weaponize you."
Roberto looked down, conflicted.
"Get the others," Hal continued. "Tell them everything. they need to know. They deserve the choice."
He turned for the door.
"I'm heading to the infirmary. If they've stored our blood anywhere, that's probably the place."
Then, without waiting for an answer, Hal disappeared down the corridor.