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The night was heavy, a dark curtain draped over the ocean as Gambit's cherished plane carved its way through the clouds. Inside, the cabin hummed with the constant thrum of the engines, rattling faintly as turbulence nudged the fuselage.
The trip had been long... long enough to test even Leo's patience but for Logan, it was almost unbearable.
Every second in the air felt like a test of his sanity, a punishment worse than battle.
Beneath them, through the gaps in the clouds, an island emerged: stark, lonely, and crowned with towering silhouettes.
The industrial glow of floodlights revealed structures that pulsed faintly against the black horizon, like the heartbeat of some slumbering monster.
"That's it. Three Mile Island," Gambit muttered, his tone caught somewhere between bitterness and resignation. His finger traced the glass of the cockpit window, pointing down at the looming reactors below.
Gambit's expression tightened, as though the sight alone stirred memories he wished had stayed buried.
Leo leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Hiding in plain sight… what a move. A fortress disguised as something too dangerous to approach."
"Exactly," Gambit said with a humorless laugh. "No one dares get close to the reactors. Most people think the radiation will twist them into freaks. Monsters."
"Like you?" Logan's gravelly voice cut through the hum of the engines, heavy with sarcasm but weighed down by something darker recognition.
Gambit's lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes flicked away, as though ashamed. "Yeah."
For a moment, silence claimed the cabin. Each of them sat in the dim light, haunted by their own ghosts.
All three bore the scars of being labeled outcasts tools, weapons, freaks. On this night, they were united not by choice, but by circumstance.
"Alright," Gambit finally said, his hands firm on the controls. "This is it. This is as close as I take you. Good luck."
Logan's gaze didn't leave the island below, but his hand reached up, gripping Leo's shoulder. "Your move."
"Got it." Leo closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. When he opened them, determination sharpened their blue depths. He pressed a hand to Logan's shoulder and the space folded.
The world flickered and reformed, The stale, recycled air of the plane vanished, replaced with the salt-stung breath of the sea and the hum of machinery below.
They were on the island.
"Damn it, Leo," Logan growled as his boots hit the concrete. His shoulders stiffened, claws itching to unsheathe. "Couldn't you just teleport us straight here? You know I hate flying in tin cans."
"You know the rules," Leo replied, clapping him on the back. "I can't teleport to places I don't know. I need familiar landmarks. Unless you want to risk reappearing inside a wall."
Logan exhaled through his nose. "Fine. But when we head back, I'm taking the Leo Express. No more airplanes."
"Deal." Leo gave a small grin, though it faded quickly. "Now come on. We've got work to do."
---
The base stretched ahead of them like a concrete labyrinth, shadows shifting under harsh white floodlights.
Leo and Logan moved like ghosts along the perimeter, slipping into the corridors Gambit had described.
Inside, sterile hallways twisted in cold angles, the smell of disinfectant clinging to every surface. Logan took point, his senses sharpened to the faintest sound.
Leo followed close behind, his eyes darting across cameras, patrol routes, and the reflection of red emergency lights in the steel panels.
Meanwhile, deep inside the facility, Colonel William Stryker leaned over a bank of glowing monitors. His crisp white lab coat reflected the ghostly light, his iron-gray hair slicked back. His jaw was set in a line of pure tension.
"How much longer?" he said, his voice sharp and impatient.
"Several hours still, Colonel Stryker," one of the lab technicians stammered nervously, sweat beading at his brow.
Stryker's eyes flicked to a screen showing two dark figures infiltrating his halls. His lips curled in irritation, but there was also a spark of satisfaction. "Then make it faster," he ordered. "We don't have the luxury of failure."
---
Unaware of Stryker's gaze, Logan raised a hand: a silent signal. Hide.
Leo nodded once and blinked, vanishing into the shadows of a corner. From there, he watched as two guards trudged past, dragging an unconscious body between them.
They hauled the figure into a reinforced cage and slammed the lock with a metallic echo that reverberated down the corridor.
Leo's eyes swept the room. His gut clenched. Cage after cage twenty at least. And every single one was filled.
Mutants.
They were prisoners, Test subjects, Victims.
Enhanced vision let him see the details too clearly: raw scars, fresh stitches, bandaged wounds, the hollow stares of drugged eyes. Their suffering screamed at him in silence.
Leo's fists tightened. 'We're getting them out' he vowed silently.
He blinked again, reappearing at Logan's side, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll drop you upstairs first. I need to come back for them."
Logan's jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod.
Leo placed a hand on his shoulder and the stairwell melted away.
They reappeared in a sterile lab at the top of the facility. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy, almost suffocating.
Logan froze. His eyes locked on a figure ahead, and his breath caught.
A woman stood there, her dark hair spilling past her shoulders, her face eerily calm.
Logan's voice cracked, raw. "Who… who are you?"
"Don't worry, Logan," Stryker said smoothly, stepping into view like a conductor entering his stage. His words dripped with calculated cruelty. "It's exactly what you think. She's Kayla."
Logan's knees hit the ground, his body folding under the weight of the revelation. Pain carved across his features.
Leo's chest tightened. His suspicions, the gnawing doubts he'd buried since first hearing about Kayla's death, came crashing back.
This wasn't an accident. It had been orchestrated. Every step, every moment, a manipulation.
"Welcome, Logan's friend," Stryker said, eyes sliding toward Leo now, intrigued. "How should I address you?"
"'Logan's friend' is good enough," Leo shot back, his tone edged with contempt. His gaze, however, was drawn to the white surgical cradle in the center of the lab.
Instinct screamed at him that whatever was gestating there was dangerous. Something unnatural. Something wrong.
He considered teleporting back to free the prisoners immediately, but one look at Logan, shattered and vulnerable, made him hesitate. And beyond that, Leo felt something else in the room. A presence. Watching. Waiting. Predatory.
Stryker shrugged at Leo's dismissal and turned back to Logan. "You think we would ever let you go? You are a threat. And threats are monitored. Would you like to know how Kayla died? Kayla, enlighten him."
Kayla's eyes flickered with hesitation, her lips trembling. But Stryker's cold, commanding gaze forced her compliance.
"They injected me with hydrochlorothiazide," she whispered flatly. "It slowed my heart. Made you think I was gone."
Logan's howl erupted, primal and broken.
"So it was all a setup?" His voice shook the walls like a wounded beast's roar.
Stryker's smile widened. He pressed the knife in deeper. "You should also know: Kayla is a mutant. Her power allows her to control minds through touch. Worthless in battle but perfect for seduction."
Logan staggered back, the truth shredding years of his life in a single blow. The woman he'd loved, trusted, built his world around had she been controlling him all along? Was it all a lie?
His eyes searched hers desperately. "Why?"
Kayla opened her mouth, but Stryker's voice thundered over her. "Because it was all for Deadpool. Decades of research led me here splicing powers, creating something greater than the sum of its parts. But only your healing factor made it possible. Deadpool will be the perfect weapon. The endgame."
Leo's blood boiled. "So you've been abducting mutants, torturing them, stripping them for parts just to build your Frankenstein?"
Stryker's lip curled. "Mutant 'people'? Please, they are just Tools, Nothing more."
"Leo." Logan's voice was low, guttural, filled with pain. He rose to his feet slowly, shoulders trembling with grief and rage. "We're leaving."
Stryker's eyes glinted, satisfied. He wanted them gone. He wanted more time.
Leo hesitated, torn. The cages below screamed in his mind, but Logan… Logan had never looked so fragile, so broken.
"Alright," Leo said softly, swallowing his anger. He pressed a hand to Logan's shoulder.
As he did, his gaze caught Kayla's reflection in a glass cabinet. She wasn't expressionless now. Her face was twisted with sorrow, her eyes brimming with tears that slipped silently down her cheeks.
So maybe she wasn't the monster after all.
---
With a flash, Leo blinked them outside the laboratory. Cold night air wrapped around them, sharp and bracing.
Logan's fists trembled, his entire frame shaking as though barely holding himself together.
"I think something's off," Leo said carefully. "Kayla's not clean, but the tears… they weren't for show. She's not as simple as Stryker painted her."
Logan whipped his head toward him, desperation sparking in his eyes. He grabbed Leo's arm. "You're saying she had no choice? That she—"
"I'm saying," Leo cut in gently, "if you go back now, you might learn something Stryker didn't want you to hear."
Hope flared in Logan's eyes like a dying ember reignited. He took a step toward the lab.
And then it came—
A scream. Piercing, agonized, feminine.
Kayla.
The sound sliced through the night like glass.
"Kayla!" Logan roared, all reason obliterated. He bolted, claws bursting from his fists as he charged back toward the facility.
Leo's heart hammered. He had no choice but to follow. Whatever awaited them inside.
He doesn't know why he is feeling these emotions, but there is no longer any chance of this ending cleanly.
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