If this plan had any real merit, the military wouldn't have abandoned it so easily. To them, the Weapon X program was a failure—not worth the effort.
"And then? How did things evolve into this?" Ethan pressed, his gaze locked onto the researcher.
"At first, things were rough. We were fugitives—constantly on the run, without money or resources. We nearly fell apart," the researcher admitted.
"Then, out of nowhere, Francis started researching ways to turn ordinary people into mutants. We all thought he'd lost his mind. We barely had the tech, the funding, or even the expertise. Even compared to Weapon X, it sounded insane."
The disbelief in his voice was still evident, even after all this time.
"But somehow… he did it. He created an awakening serum that could trigger the X-Gene."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "What's the success rate?"
The researcher swallowed hard before answering.
"With Francis' method—torture combined with chemical stimulation—the activation rate is around thirty to forty percent. But even then, only a fraction of them develop usable abilities. The rest…" His voice faltered.
"Most end up as failed experiments. Twisted mutations locked away in the lab."
"And the ones that do survive?" Ethan pressed, his grip tightening.
"One in ten," the researcher admitted.
"And those are the ones Francis brainwashes and sells to the highest bidder."
Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That's a terrible success rate."
But even as he said it, his mind was already working through the implications.
If he could get these files back to the right people—mutant scientists with actual resources—they might be able to refine the process.
"And the ones who survived with their powers intact? No side effects?"
"No, that's the thing," the researcher said, shaking his head.
"Francis himself underwent the process. His reflexes became superhuman, but he lost his ability to feel pain. And then there's Wade…"
Ethan's expression darkened.
"Wade's regeneration is off the charts, but the cost was complete disfigurement. And Francis' strongest guard—Angel Dust?"
Ethan and Katie exchanged a glance.
"Physically, she's stronger and faster than ever. No visible defects. But mentally?" The researcher hesitated. "She's unstable. More violent. More unpredictable."
He looked between Ethan and Katie, a mix of awe and envy in his eyes.
"I saw you two fight in the security footage. You're… different. Natural mutants. You don't have the same risks."
According to his research, nearly eighty percent of humans carried the dormant X-Gene, but only an infinitesimal fraction ever awakened it naturally.
And forced mutations? They were nothing more than crude imitations—flawed, unstable, dangerous.
The deeper he dug into this work, the more he envied those who were born with their gifts.
Ethan crossed his arms.
"Alright. Last question. How was the serum developed?"
He didn't believe for a second that Francis had figured this out on his own.
Not without help.
The researcher hesitated before answering. "There was someone else. Someone we never saw."
Ethan's interest sharpened. "Who?"
"I don't know. None of us ever met him. Only Francis had direct contact. But whoever he was, he gave us research materials—documents full of insights we'd never considered. They changed everything."
He motioned toward a nearby console.
"I downloaded a portion of them onto the files I just gave you. You can see for yourself."
Ethan glanced at the files but made no move to open them.
He wouldn't understand half of it anyway.
But that mystery figure? That was worth looking into.
"Looks like we'll need to find Francis after all," Ethan muttered.
"With Pete handling him, at least Deadpool won't get the chance to slice him into pieces just yet."
"And what about this place?" Katie asked, crossing her arms.
"We'll let the NYPD seal it off for now. Then, Emma Frost will send her people to clean up and take everything worth salvaging." Ethan smirked.
"I doubt anyone's gonna complain if the X-Men shut down another lab experimenting on our kind."
If only he wasn't flipping through a stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. notebook while saying it, it might've sounded more convincing.
"Peter, what's going on with you? Did you catch Francis?" In the car, Katie opened the communication channel, her voice laced with urgency.
After spending some time tying up loose ends at the research facility, Ethan and the others were now heading to the coordinates Colossus had sent over.
"We were too late. Francis already took Wade's girlfriend," Pete's deep, steady voice came through the speaker.
"By the way, those coordinates I sent? Forget them. We're heading to Wade's apartment now. He's completely lost it—says he's grabbing every explosive he can find so he can have a 'proper chat' with Francis."
"Wait, the location changed? Please tell me you didn't drive all the way back," Ethan muttered, adjusting his seat.
"Eyes on the road," Katie snapped just in time to yank the steering wheel, preventing the car from slamming into a guardrail.
The sudden swerve threw them off their lane, putting them directly in the path of an oncoming car.
The mother in the oncoming car screamed in terror, but before impact, Katie instinctively used her powers, phasing their vehicle through as if they were ghosts.
"Minor mistake. Won't happen again," Ethan said, gripping the wheel with forced confidence.
"Is there going to be a next time?" Katie shot him a sharp glare.
She had once believed that, given enough practice, Ethan could become a decent driver.
That hope had long since died.
"Let's review," she continued.
"You swerved out of your lane three times, almost caused two collisions, nearly crashed into the guardrail—twice—and dodged a pillar at the last second. If we were normal people, we'd have been in at least ten accidents today."
"Well... we didn't crash, did we?" Ethan grinned, unfazed.
As long as Katie was in the car, he knew she'd keep them from smashing into anything.
And any potential pile-ups caused by his reckless driving?
A quick manipulation of vectors was all it took to keep traffic moving—well, mostly.
Worst case scenario?
A minor traffic jam. No big deal.
He wasn't going to lose his license over that... right?
"Katie, you have to trust me. Just give me more time to practice, and one day, I'll master the roads. People will speak my name with awe as I—oh, hell, what's wrong with these tunnel lights? And that idiot with the high beams! Motherfucker! You wanna die? Bring it on! Let's ruin each other's day!"
After a series of questionable driving choices, they finally pulled up outside Wade's apartment.
Inside, the chaos was already in full swing.
"Francis, you absolute sonovabitch. I swear, I'm gonna blast his balls clean off, dress him up real nice, buy him a spot at a shady underground strip club, and make him the main attraction!" Wade ranted while shoving grenades into his belt.
Ethan and Katie exchanged glances before stepping inside.
"Another guest?" a blind old woman wearing sunglasses shuffled out from a side room, her voice dry with amusement.
"Wade, this is the first time I've seen you bring so many people over. Hosting a party?"
"No, Blind Al, I'm going to someone else's party," Wade replied without looking up, his hands busy loading ammo.
"And I take it you're bringing all the bastards with you?" Al smirked.
"Nope. Need more bastards. Go grab your gear."
Al sighed but lifted her skirt, pulling a tiny pistol from her boot. "You really are a piece of work."
"Oh, come on. You know I love you. For instance, I hid 116 kilograms of cocaine somewhere in this apartment. It's labeled 'Cures Blindness.' Good luck finding it."
Before Al could respond, the phone on the table buzzed.
"Oh, let's see... is that our prom invitation? Are we meeting Francis at this location? Of course, no problem, I'll be sure to give him—" Wade suddenly paused, frowning at something on the screen.
"Wait a sec… What the hell is this brown thing? A smiling chocolate ice cream?"
Ethan, peeking over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow. "If my eyes aren't failing me, that's a smiling poop emoji."
Deadpool: "..."
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Word count: 1452
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