"Congratulations, sir." Raina gave a small smile as Mr. Hyde hugged her in a burst of emotion. She said the words, but something felt off in her chest. There was a strange emptiness rising up—a quiet fear that something important was slipping through her fingers.
"I'm going to see her! Right now!" Mr. Hyde exclaimed, practically glowing with excitement. "My poor daughter... all these years, she must have thought we were dead. She doesn't know we've been searching for her this entire time."
He abruptly set the laptop down, his whole body trembling with anticipation.
"Sir, please wait," Raina said quickly, stepping forward with concern in her voice. "We need to think this through. Doesn't it seem strange that her information suddenly appeared on the Rats' network? It's too clean—it might be a trap."
"I don't care anymore!" Hyde roared, grabbing Raina by the shoulders, his eyes wild. "I'm going to see my daughter, and anyone who tries to stop me—I'll tear them apart. That includes you. Understand?"
Raina swallowed hard. Looking into his frenzied, bloodshot eyes, she nodded. "I... understand, sir."
Just as quickly, Hyde's rage melted into joy. He let go of her, a wide grin stretching across his face. "Raina, help me out here—what do you think I should wear? I want to look like a real father. I haven't seen her since she was a baby. I want this to be perfect."
········
Meanwhile, at the Mutant Research Institute, a young woman was asking the very same question, in her own way.
"You're really sure? My father's alive? You can find him?" Skye paced anxiously, then turned to Ethan, who was seated calmly at the edge of a desk.
"That's the fifth time you've asked me." Ethan tilted his head, a bit of impatience showing in his tone. "Yes. I can find your father. And he's already on his way here. Will that finally settle your nerves?"
"Sorry," Skye said quickly. "I didn't mean to annoy you. It's just... everything's happening so fast. I just found out who I am. My real parents are alive. It's... surreal. Like some kind of crazy dream."
She looked down at her clothes. "Do I look okay? Should I change? I feel like I should look better if I'm meeting him for the first time."
"In that case," Katie said warmly as she walked over, "I'll help you find something better to wear. Come on."
The two girls disappeared down the hallway, chatting softly.
A few minutes later, someone knocked at the door.
"Come in," Ethan called without looking up.
The door opened to reveal a poised woman in a sleek white coat—Emma Frost, the White Queen.
"Emma," Ethan stood to greet her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you have the analysis?"
Emma nodded, her tone laced with subtle excitement. "You've brought us quite the gift. Our top scientists have confirmed that the formula from the sample you retrieved can indeed trigger the X-gene. They're already working on replicating it."
Ethan folded his arms. "It's not enough. The success rate is still barely ten percent. And even then, the ones who awaken usually suffer side effects. That's not the breakthrough I was hoping for."
"Have we isolated the causes of the flaws yet?"
The source of mutant abilities is the X gene.
Normally, this gene stays dormant, hidden deep within human DNA.
Only a rare few ever naturally activate it—those are the lucky ones who become mutants.
But some don't wait for luck.
That's where the awakening serum comes in. It forces the X gene awake, yanking it out of its slumber.
But anything that tampers with the body at that level comes with a price.
"It's like dumping chemicals into a delicate engine," the White Queen explained. "You might get it running, but you'll break something in the process."
Just like how too much exposure to radiation can cause cancer, forcing the X gene to activate often damages it.
The result?
Powers that are unstable, incomplete, or entirely out of control.
Some end up with faulty abilities.
Others become little more than ticking time bombs.
"So what you're saying," Ethan asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the lab counter, "is that these defects come from the damage done during the forced awakening. If that's the case, then there's gotta be a way to prevent it, right?"
"In theory? No," the White Queen replied. "Forced awakening will always have consequences. That's the trade-off. Natural activation is safe—clean. But artificial activation? It's messy. Dangerous."
Then she added, her tone shifting. "But... just because we can't prevent the damage entirely doesn't mean we can't reduce it. Think of it like childbirth. Natural is best, sure. But if that fails, you go for a C-section. And while there might be risks or scars, sometimes it's the only way."
Ethan thought about it for a moment. His fingers drummed lightly on the table.
"So the real issue is the process—the technique. If we refine the formula, we might limit the damage. Is that possible with what we have?"
"Our top scientists—Cornelius, Radcliffe, and Stern—have all been reassigned to this project. It's our number one priority now," the White Queen said.
"But Dr. Stern noticed something odd. Some of the formula data you recovered was incomplete—almost like someone deliberately left out key parts. It's holding us back."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "That's fine. Whoever made that serum will show up eventually. And when they do, we'll get the answers straight from them."
While Ethan and the White Queen worked through research strategy, another conversation was happening elsewhere.
Pyro—John Allerdyce—leaned against a wall, arms crossed as he watched Pete pace nervously.
"John, be honest... do I really dress that bad?" Pete asked with a sigh. He looked like a kicked puppy as he recounted what Deadpool and Ethan had said about his outfit two days ago.
John nearly doubled over laughing. "Man, don't sweat it. Who cares what they think? You're tagging along on missions with the boss. That's way cooler than fashion advice. I'm still waiting to get out of this lab. Ever since I joined the Brotherhood, I've been stuck in here like a science project. I'm about ready to grow moss."
Pete chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess you're right. But hey, about that mutant we brought in the other day... you've been visiting her a lot lately. How's that going?"
"Huh? No, it's nothing like that! I just… I've been checking in. Talking to her. Trying to help her see things differently," Pete stammered, cheeks turning red.
John raised an eyebrow. "Sure, Pete. 'Helping her see things differently.' Sounds like someone's got a little crush."
Pete waved his hands. "No, no, it's not like that! Really!"
John smirked. "Man, if going on missions means I get to chill and flirt the whole time, sign me up. Stable life and romance? That's the dream."
Before Pete could respond, he nudged John and asked quietly, "Hey, could you… maybe teach me how to talk to girls? I'm not really… good at it."
"Did you just say that to me?" John frowned the moment he heard it. A flicker of flame sparked in his palm, spreading quickly into a small blaze. "Do you even know who I am? Ask me that again, and I might just lose control and roast you."
Pete blinked as he watched the flame twist and change shapes—first into a flickering torch, then into the fiery letters "FFF."
He hesitated for a second, then stood tall, his skin shifting into solid steel.
"I'm not scared."
John narrowed his eyes. "Fuck."
Just then, the door burst open.
"Speak of the devil," John muttered.
Bobby Drake—aka Iceman—walked in, brushing frost off his jacket. "Hey, found you guys. Big news. The one the boss has been waiting for just showed up."
"A big fish? Alright, let's check it out." John's mood shifted instantly.
He bolted for the hall without a second thought.
Pete sighed, clearly used to this. H
e pointed across the corridor and followed, always the more grounded of the two.
When they reached the lobby, they saw a man in a sharp suit, gold watch on his wrist, suitcase in hand.
He stood there like a high-ranking exec, but there was something a little off in the way he shifted his weight—nervous, but focused.
John strode right up. "Hey, old man. You the one looking for our boss?"
The man smiled politely, unfazed by John's bluntness. He extended a hand. "No, I'm not here for business. I'm looking for my daughter. She's here, isn't she?"
John raised a brow. "You mean Skye? The new girl?"
"Yes—Daisy. My little girl. She's grown into a beautiful young woman, hasn't she? I'd like to see her. Please."
John stepped closer, inspecting him. "She's fine. So…you strong? Wanna spar a little?"
"Oh, no. I don't fight," Mr. Hyde laughed nervously, waving his hands. "I'm just a father. A peaceful man who wants to reunite with his child."
"John, enough," Pete said as he stepped in, already frowning at the flame in John's hand. "We've got real questions to ask this guy."
Mr. Hyde opened his mouth to respond, then suddenly paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Pete. The air around him changed.
"You… I know you."
Pete tilted his head. "Huh? What're you—"
Mr. Hyde's whole demeanor shifted. That calm, nervous smile twisted into a deep scowl. "You're the steel mutant. The one on the rooftop that day."
Pete's eyes darkened. "Yeah. And you're the one who broke through the perimeter that same night."
Mr. Hyde's voice dropped low, gravelly and dangerous. "You dared lay hands on my daughter. You took her from me. Unforgivable!"
The room dropped in temperature despite John's flame as Mr. Hyde's rage boiled over.
His eyes burned red, veins popping at his temples.
"Careful," John started to say, "this is our turf—"
Before he could finish, Hyde grabbed him by the arm and hurled him like a ragdoll across the room.
"Touch my daughter, and I'll rip you all apart!" Hyde roared, tossing his suitcase aside, rolling up his sleeves like a man going to war.
Pete stepped forward, steel skin gleaming under the light. "You wanna try that, old man? Come at me."
Their fists collided in a thunderous crack, both men stumbling back from the sheer force of the blow.
In the corner, John groaned and pulled himself upright, brushing off a few shards of debris.
"Okay, grandpa," he said with a snarl. A dozen molten fireballs began to swirl around him. "You just made your worst mistake. You ready to get torched?"
...
Boom~!
boom~!
Fireballs the size of basketballs exploded against Mr. Hyde's body.
Thanks to John's precise control, the flames twisted and curved in midair, giving Hyde no chance to dodge.
In just moments, his suit was in tatters, and scorched burns spread across his skin. But then, something horrifying happened—his wounds started healing.
Muscles twitched. Flesh knitted back together. Burnt skin peeled off and new skin pulsed beneath it.
"Looks like you've got some decent healing chops," John muttered, his fingers sparking. "Then let's crank it up."
The scattered embers floating in the air suddenly ignited all at once, swirling into a towering pillar of fire that engulfed Hyde completely.
The temperature soared.
Oxygen vanished.
Mr. Hyde let out a strained growl as he dropped to one knee, struggling to breathe.
Just as he tried to rise and power through the flames, a path split open in the inferno—like a curtain parting.
On the other side stood John, holding a fireball the size of a beach ball.
The heat pulsing from it warped the air.
"The boss told me not to waste time with flashy tricks like those weird magic types," John smirked. "As a pyro, I only need to know how to throw fireballs. If one doesn't work, throw two. If two don't work, throw a bigger one. So, ready to eat this one?"
He launched it.
Hyde's eyes widened. That fireball wasn't just for show—it radiated pure destruction. If he took a direct hit, he wasn't walking out of here in one piece.
"You leave me no choice," Hyde growled.
From his inner coat, he yanked out a few vials filled with glowing liquid. Without hesitation, he plunged the syringes into his veins. The chemicals surged into his bloodstream.
With a thunderous roar, Hyde's body bulked up. Veins bulged. His upper body swelled like a beast let loose. His eyes were bloodshot, wild, and unhinged.
"MOVE!" he bellowed, slamming a fist into the incoming fireball.
With a concussive blast, the fireball shattered. The column of flames tore apart as if ripped by a cannon blast.
The raw power of Hyde's punch—pure force at its limit—ripped through fire like it was paper. The last time someone had pulled that off... it was the Hulk.
John stared, dumbfounded. "That... that was physics? You punched through fire? That's even a thing?"
Then doubt crept in. "Did the boss lie to me? No... it's gotta be my fireball. It wasn't big enough. Next time—way bigger."
But there was no next time.
Hyde charged through the dissipating smoke, eyes locked on John like a predator. The look in his eyes said everything—he was out for blood.
"Ready to be torn apart?" he snarled.
John froze.
"JOHN, LOOK OUT!" Pete's voice rang out. The steel-skinned mutant lunged between them.
"Boom!" Their fists collided again—and Pete flew backward like a missile, crashing into a wall and cracking it with the impact.
From above, slow clapping echoed through the chaos.
"Man, you guys are seriously loud," said Ethan, descending the stairs with a bored look.
The moment Hyde saw him, the blood drained from his face. His entire body tensed like he'd just been hit with an electric jolt.
"You..."
Even after all this time, Hyde hadn't forgotten. That day, when Ethan had flung an entire containment unit at him with a flick of his hand, the raw force behind it had left a scar in his memory.