Svalbard, again.
Daniel had chosen this remote Arctic archipelago long ago as the site of a hidden base. After WWII, when the world came hunting for remnants of the old regime, this frozen stretch had become his safest refuge—and not without reason.
No one formally lived in this region for decades. Its only draw had been a few coal mines, attracting mining companies to set up temporary outposts. Even now, the vast majority of its tiny population—just a few hundred—lived on Spitsbergen, the largest and most accessible of the islands. The settlement of Longyearbyen, now the regional capital, had grown out of this humble origin.
Today, Longyearbyen boasts an airport and a deep-sea port. Flights connect to Tromsø in Northern Norway five times a week. All this lies on what Svalbard means in Old Norse—"cold coast." The archipelago floats somewhere between mainland Norway and the North Pole, one of the northernmost habitable places on Earth.
During wartime—and even for years after—no one stayed here permanently. At best, seasonal workers would come for a few months, and flee long before the harsh extremes of the polar day or night set in.
Only in more recent years had advancements in technology made life here remotely sustainable. Combined with popular Arctic cruises, new jobs made it possible for people to settle year-round. But even with all that, it was still a tiny town—barely 3,000 people total. And compared to modern surveillance? The odds of anyone detecting a well-hidden underground base were still minimal.
Back then, Daniel had set everything up from scratch. He even created a company—Norwich Energy—as a front. After he vanished, many of his old allies slowly moved closer to the European and American mainstream, using that company as their shield.
According to Bakshi's latest intelligence, most of the original base's population was long gone. Even younger generations associated with Norwich Energy didn't know the base existed. That's why Daniel decided this was where he'd strike first.
This base had been the seed of it all.
From here, he could reconnect with hidden allies, assess how far Norwich Energy had drifted from his original vision, and decide whether to take it back—or leave it behind.
Sure, it had been over fifty years. But the most dedicated among his former circle—if still alive—would obey him the moment he appeared. The only unknown now was how many had been eliminated… perhaps by mutants. Charles Xavier's people, maybe?
Daniel didn't worry that Professor Xavier would "release" any mind control on them. He hadn't controlled them publicly, and in a way, letting them live might be riskier than simply eliminating them. So Charles had likely chosen the clean option.
What mattered now was seeing what was still hidden below.
That night, while Elektra slept deeply—worn out from both their activities and a little magical coaxing—Daniel slipped silently out of town. By morning, a few time delay illusions would make it seem like he never left her side.
They had done this before. Over and over during their trip. Even the beautiful auroras could get repetitive—so they found other ways to pass the time.
Daniel raced low and fast, hugging the ground as he moved northeast.
The days of sneaking through a quiet post-war world were long gone. In those days, skies were empty. Now? Arctic satellites blanketed the region. Dozens of advanced radar systems had been installed throughout the archipelago—even in places labeled as "research observation stations."
These so-called observation posts mostly existed to transport goods... but they were equipped. Some of the world's Arctic monitoring still ran through Svalbard, even today.
Now that it was polar night, everything was dark—but if Daniel had flown too high, he'd still be caught on radar.
Simply put, this island was no longer ideal for a secret base. Even small movements risked being picked up. That's why the base had been slowly abandoned. No hidden presence could survive under the scrutiny of so many modern systems.
Even repurposing the base today wasn't viable for large group activity. At best, it could serve as a hidden fallback zone.
Svalbard's geography was scattered. West Spitsbergen. Northeast Island. Barents Island. Edge Island. Years ago, Daniel had chosen Northeast Island—not the inhabited mainlands—for his stronghold. Even today, no one lived there full-time.
At one point, a small military force may have been stationed on the island. But as remote monitoring tech improved, human forces withdrew. Patrols from Spitsbergen and other key points took over, reinforced by drones and radars.
Despite the "Svalbard Treaty," which prohibited militarization, this remote land had played a strategic role during the Cold War—and still did. It acted as one of NATO's quiet sentinels against Soviet expansion. Soldiers and spies alike had used this route for escape, infiltration, or staging.
Three hours later, Daniel reached the ice shelves of Northeast Island.
He stopped—gray windbreaker fluttering in the breeze. Before him, somewhere buried at a depth of 30 meters below, lay his old base.
In WWII's final days, Daniel had leveraged his command over a German U-boat fleet to quietly transfer people and resources from Norway to this island. Using that submarine, dozens had been escorted underground to this hardened base.
From the beginning, he'd accounted for surveillance. The main entrance to the base was built underwater to avoid Allied patrolling aircraft. The only way in or out was by submarine. Even now, that rule held.
Destroy the entrance—and anyone inside was trapped. Destroy the exit—and outsiders couldn't get in.
But there was one secret no one else knew: a backup entrance. Known only to Daniel himself.
He looked up at the night sky. The aurora shimmered across the heavens like divine brushstrokes. Above it, satellites watched—but couldn't see him. The lights disrupted electromagnetic signals. At this latitude, during polar night, infrared satellite surveillance grew weaker. The shimmer of the aurora scrambled many signals.
During daytime or the polar day, maybe yes—but not now. Not tonight.
No global power would waste time monitoring a lifeless slab of Arctic rock like this.
No one—except her.
That woman.
He knew she'd be watching. She always watched places like this. Anything connected to his buried past. She knew better than most how to anticipate danger. Even now, she had probably placed sensors at the sea entrance and—if she were truly thorough—someone might be watching Spitsbergen around the clock.
After all, Norwich Energy wasn't just a cover anymore. It had grown into a semi-militarized energy company. Its reach spread wide.
They had reason to protect what they built here. If another nation uncovered this old secret, it could expose everything.
Daniel sighed.
He had expected this. Of course she would be the one to secure everything. The kind of people Daniel left behind couldn't contend with her foresight or strength. She had likely taken control far earlier than anyone realized.
Still... odd as it was, it also meant she'd kept them safe. From a world that still wanted to erase the past.
Remnants of the Third Reich, hiding beneath the Arctic, protected by a woman in league with both the Mutant Brotherhood and Xavier's academy. Ironic.
Sure, they were rivals. But the mutant world was so hated, so fragile under public scrutiny, that even bitter enemies ended up shielding each other under pressure.
Daniel stepped onto the frozen island.
And immediately, the weather responded. The moment his foot touched down, the still night erupted—winds howled, snow whipped around violently, clouding everything. The temperature dropped sharply.
Hidden under the blanket of storm, an electric pulse flickered across the ice.
The surveillance equipment scattered across the area shut down.
The storm raged above, but Daniel had already slipped beneath the surface—reaching real ground.
He raised his wand.
With a soft hum, golden magic patterns crackled into reality. They glowed in a perfect circle beneath him. A 10-meter section of frozen earth slowly lifted in one piece—rising nearly 3 meters into the air. An entrance.
A single, secret passage only Daniel could open.
Any other method—like brute force or machines—could work, theoretically. But if an outsider ever broke in using industrial tools, it would already be too late. If the base hadn't noticed by then, they deserved to fall.
Once Daniel stepped inside, the stone lid slowly lowered behind him—sealing up the passage.