"Trying to escape? It won't be that easy!"
Mark stepped forward decisively, assuming the stance he had already mastered, and summoned the last reserves of his strength to unleash a final Kamehameha. The spiraling beam of pure energy surged from his palms, illuminating the sky in a blinding streak as it struck one of the two remaining helicopters. The impact was immediate and catastrophic, within seconds, the aircraft was engulfed in fire and obliterated, leaving only a burning silhouette in its wake.
These enemy units weren't just adversaries, they were sources of Justice Points, vital to Mark's system. As such, he was unwilling to allow even a single enemy to escape unchallenged.
Yet even as the light of his attack faded, Mark could feel the consequences catching up to him. His body trembled faintly, signaling the limits of his stamina. His energy reserves, having been pushed far beyond what most twelve-year-olds could endure, were nearly depleted. A second blast of that magnitude was now impossible.
Eyes scanning the surroundings rapidly, he locked his gaze on a decorative stone pillar standing at the edge of the school's castle-like structure. Without hesitation, he sprinted over, brought his hand down in a precise chopping motion, and detached the four-meter-long, half-meter-thick column from its base. With his arms trembling from exertion yet unwavering in purpose, he turned toward the final helicopter, now barely visible as a small black dot against the moonlit sky.
With a deep breath and a loud cry, he hurled the pillar skyward with all his might.
The makeshift projectile shot through the air like a surface-to-air missile, propelled by Mark's monstrous strength. The sheer velocity transformed it into a deadly spear of stone, cleaving through the air toward its target.
Boom!
A resounding explosion split the silence as the stone struck its mark. The last of the invading helicopters was obliterated midair, consumed by fire and torn apart in a brilliant explosion of shrapnel and flame.
This feat was not entirely unexpected. After all, the thirteen-year-old Son Goku, whose abilities Mark had adopted, had once performed similar feats, including toppling foes like Tao Pai Pai by using columns as long-range projectiles. With the template of Goku active within him, Mark could replicate such techniques with ease. If he so desired, he could have even leapt onto the pillar mid-flight and ridden it across vast distances.
Indeed, during the events in Sokovia, he had refrained from doing so only because flying through the air in that fashion would have drawn the attention of every missile and radar in the conflict zone.
"I take it back," Wolverine muttered, clearly impressed as he stared at the burning remains of the last helicopter. "You are a real warrior."
He turned to Mark and raised the rightmost of his adamantium claws in a gesture of approval.
Mark, smirking, extended his hand toward Wolverine.
"What?" Wolverine asked, uncertain of his intent.
"Cigar," Mark replied, pointing at the smoking stub clenched between Logan's teeth.
Wolverine's eyes widened, and he quickly waved his hand in refusal.
"No way. This stuff isn't for kids. Give it a few more years."
But before he could say more, Mark vanished in a blur. The next moment, Wolverine noticed that his cigar box and lighter had been deftly lifted from his pocket and were now in the boy's hands.
In his current state, enhanced by the Goku template, Mark was far faster than Wolverine could ever hope to be.
Mark drew a cigar from the box, ignited it, and placed it in his mouth with the swagger of a veteran. He didn't intend to actually smoke it, of course, it was merely a ploy to annoy Wolverine in retaliation for the constant "monkey boy" nickname.
"Oh, God" Logan groaned, his expression one of mounting dread.
"If the Professor sees this, he's going to kill me."
Professor X already disapproved of Logan smoking on school grounds. The last time he had lit a cigar inside the Cerebro chamber, Charles had warned him in no uncertain terms, one more violation, and he'd telepathically reprogram Wolverine's mind into that of a six-year-old girl and assign Jean Grey to braid his hair.
Now, if Xavier discovered that Logan had supplied cigars to a student, even indirectly, there would be hell to pay.
"Relax," Mark said with mock reassurance, waving the lit cigar like a wand.
"If Professor finds out I've been drinking or smoking, I'll tell him it was Logan who taught me."
Logan groaned and rubbed his forehead in exasperation.
"Fine, fine. I'll stop calling you 'monkey boy.' Just keep this between us."
The teasing now over, Mark's expression grew serious.
"Logan, where exactly did Professor Xavier go tonight?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Wolverine replied.
"I only arrived at the school earlier this evening. Charles mentioned he was visiting an old friend, and Jean and the others went to Boston. Something about a mutant trying to assassinate the President."
Given Mark's maturity and power, Logan no longer treated him as a mere child.
At those words, Mark's eyes narrowed sharply. A grim realization took hold of him.
"This is bad. Logan, do you know where the Cerebro chamber is?"
"Of course."
Without waiting for further explanation, the two sprinted toward the chamber. Upon arrival, the damage was immediately apparent. The chamber's entrance had been violently breached, and the Cerebro system, the school's most valuable piece of mutant-detection equipment, was gone.
"It was Colonel Stryker…" Mark muttered darkly.
The evidence was now irrefutable.
Colonel William Stryker, a man whose hatred for mutants bordered on pathological, was undoubtedly the mastermind behind the attack. After losing his wife to an accidental incident caused by their mutant son, Jason, Stryker had declared a personal war against all mutants. His obsession with eradicating them had led to unethical experimentation and the creation of weapons like Wolverine himself, imbued with indestructible adamantium.
Now, his tactics had evolved. Using the brain fluid of his son, a powerful illusionist, he had manipulated the teleporter Nightcrawler to attack the President, thereby luring Xavier to Magneto's prison and pulling the school's senior staff away.
During this calculated absence, he launched a coordinated strike to capture the Cerebro system and abduct students for experimentation.
His ultimate goal? To harness his son's power to control Professor Xavier's mind. Once linked to Cerebro, Xavier could be used as a telepathic weapon, capable of extinguishing the lives of every mutant on Earth in an instant.
(T/N: dark Cerebro, it's supposed to me modelled after the original but this author changed that)
"Why would they go to such lengths?" Wolverine asked, perplexed as he examined the wreckage. "First they come for the kids, now they take Cerebro? What the hell are they trying to do?"
This kind of puzzle clearly didn't suit Wolverine, who preferred actions to answers.
Mark's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden alert on his system interface. The timer for the protagonist template, Goku's form was nearing expiration.
"We're out of time," he said with urgency.
"Logan, find Piotr. Use the school's communication system to contact Professor and the rest of the faculty. I've reached my limit. I need to rest."
And with that, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
"Monkey boy!" Logan cried in alarm, rushing to catch him.
A quick examination revealed that Mark was merely unconscious, not injured. Logan exhaled with relief.
"What a weird power," he muttered.
As he watched Mark's hair revert to normal, and his clothing transform back into regular attire, Logan couldn't help but marvel. The boy's transformation had ended as though it had never occurred.
It reminded him of other young mutants, those whose bodies couldn't yet endure the prolonged strain of their powers. Exhaustion and unconsciousness were common side effects.
~~~~~~~~~~
A hazy fog enveloped Mark's senses.
Gradually, consciousness returned, accompanied by familiar voices.
"Brother! Brother!"
The unmistakable cries of Wanda and Pietro brought him fully awake. His eyes opened to find the twins clinging to him, tears streaming down their faces.
Having grown up in war-torn Sokovia, the two siblings were tougher than most children their age. But seeing Logan return carrying Mark's unconscious body had shaken them to the core.
"I'm fine," Mark said gently, sitting up and offering them a reassuring smile.
"No need to cry."
As he looked around, he realized they were no longer at the school.
The room was opulently furnished. A large villa, most likely. All the mutant children from the school were here.
It must be a hidden safehouse established by Professor Xavier in case of emergency.
"You've been unconscious for an hour,"
Logan said, walking over with a bottle of beer in hand.
"Looks like you're okay now."
Mark's eyes sharpened at that.
"Only an hour? Then it's true, strengthening my core power reduces the side effects of using the template."
~~~~~~~~~
Sorry if work is bad :(