Airspace - Over the Atlantic
The screech of tearing metal reverberated through the cabin.
Magneto focused his power, driving the floating shard of steel directly into the watch's strap.
To his absolute shock, the watch remained entirely unscathed.
Not a single scratch marred the alloy.
Magneto frowned, sensing a localized disruption. His magnetic powers felt sluggish, almost deflected by the device.
He didn't know that Ernst had embedded highly advanced nanotech within the band, granting it an aggressive, real-time self-repair protocol that outpaced the cutting friction.
Determined, Magneto roared, pouring his sheer, terrifying will into the shard, exponentially increasing the cutting force.
"Impossible," Magneto snarled.
"I don't believe it. Break!"
A crisp, flat voice suddenly interrupted the tense silence of the jet.
"Mr. Logan," the watch chimed.
"Kindly ask your friend to cease his actions. Otherwise, I will classify him as a hostile entity and execute retaliatory protocols. If necessary, I will enact the final contingency."
Logan and Magneto froze. Logan had almost forgotten the device was even there.
"Are you speaking?" Logan asked, bewildered.
"What the hell are you?"
"I am not a 'what' in the biological sense," the voice replied smoothly.
"I am the Red Queen. An artificial intelligence communicating remotely. It seems the trauma of your temporal displacement has fractured your short-term memory of me."
Logan let out a long breath. The AI's tone, while clinical, implied a pre-existing, non-hostile relationship.
"Yeah, something like that," Logan muttered.
"Severe head trauma in the future. Amnesia."
Magneto, however, was not easily placated. His eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Why are you attached to him?" Magneto demanded sharply.
"Why remain silent until now? And what exactly is this 'final contingency'?"
"Apologies," the Red Queen stated flatly.
"You lack the necessary security clearance. Inquiry denied."
Magneto's face darkened. He raised his hand, the metal in the cabin groaning under his magnetic grip.
He gestured sharply to Logan.
"Answer his question," Logan instructed, wanting to avoid a mid-air brawl.
"My primary directive is to safeguard the absolute confidentiality of Mr. Logan's secrets," the Red Queen explained.
"I remained silent because Mr. Logan did not initiate contact. The final contingency is straightforward: if I detect an imminent, unauthorized breach of classified information, I will detonate a localized charge directly into Mr. Logan's brain."
"What?!" Logan snapped, his claws threatening to pop.
The illusion of a friendly AI vanished instantly.
"What did I do to you?" Logan growled.
"You're plotting to kill me, and I don't even remember putting this damn thing on. Detach from my wrist right now, or I swear, "
"Do not evade accountability, Mr. Logan," the Red Queen interrupted coldly.
"You submitted to these terms voluntarily. Your options were a total memory wipe or the surveillance watch."
The face of the watch flared. A crisp holographic video projected into the air.
It showed Logan standing in a high-tech laboratory, nodding in agreement to an unseen figure whose face and voice were heavily redacted by static.
The footage confirmed his voluntary consent. It left both Magneto and Logan deeply unsettled.
What secret was so monumental that Logan had willingly bet his life to protect it?
Magneto, ever the master tactician, saw the broader, more dangerous picture.
"No, it is not that simple," Magneto deduced, staring at the device.
"I don't know who built you, but this technology vastly outstrips anything currently on Earth. If you can project holograms and communicate in real-time, what else can you do? Are you tracking us? Eavesdropping?"
"Affirmative," the Red Queen confirmed without hesitation.
"The device possesses numerous secondary functions. It can also be deployed offensively. For example: localized infrasound generation."
The watch suddenly shifted. A microscopic emitter dilated.
A high-frequency, inaudible wave blasted directly at Magneto.
Instantly, Magneto's ears rang violently. Vertigo slammed into him, followed by a sickening numbness that paralyzed his limbs.
He stumbled, gripping a seat to remain upright.
Even Professor X, sitting near the cockpit, winced and grabbed his temples as the fringe of the wave washed over him.
"Infrasound projection operates at specific biological frequencies," the Red Queen lectured calmly.
"It directly disrupts the human nervous system, causing immediate, temporary paralysis."
The emitter closed. The watch resumed its ordinary appearance.
Magneto shook his head, recovering slowly, but he sensed a new anomaly.
A highly structured, fluctuating magnetic field was now enveloping Logan.
"Currently active is a localized psychic deflector shield," the Red Queen continued.
"It wards off telepathic intrusion, ensuring sensitive data cannot be forcibly extracted from the host's mind."
Professor X looked back from the cockpit, a twinge of sorrow crossing his face.
Even though he had surrendered his telepathy for the serum, the presence of such absolute, paranoid psychic shielding broke his heart.
It spoke of a world devoid of trust.
"And the final function, as stated," the Red Queen concluded, "is total cranial destruction. Due to Mr. Logan's regenerative mutation, the blast will not be fatal, but it will permanently obliterate his memory engrams."
The trio sat in stunned silence.
The sheer, terrifying scope of the watch's capabilities proved that whoever was behind it operated on a god-like technological tier.
"Who are you, people?" Logan asked quietly, realizing that picking a fight with the watch's creator would be suicidal.
"Our identity is irrelevant," the Red Queen replied.
"What matters is that we harbor no ill intent toward your current mission. You are free to pursue your temporal objectives. If required, we may even offer support. The 'past' Mr. Logan trusts my creator. I will assist within my parameters."
The three men exchanged uneasy glances.
They had no choice but to accept the truce.
They refocused on the immediate crisis: Paris. They had to intercept Mystique before she assassinated Bolivar Trask and doomed their future.
- - – - - - -
The Subterranean Command Center - Smallville, Kansas
Ernst monitored the tense exchange aboard the jet.
When the truce was established, he let out a satisfied breath.
"Red Queen," Ernst ordered.
"Mobilize all orbital sensors. Intensify the quantum analysis of Logan's temporal displacement. I want the mechanics of his dimension-hopping entirely decoded."
"Initiating deep analysis," the Red Queen confirmed.
"Subroutine Jor-El is assisting with the data load."
Ernst leaned forward.
Guided by Logan's fragmented knowledge of the future, Xavier's team successfully intervened in Paris, thwarting Mystique's initial strike against Trask.
But then, the timeline violently convulsed.
During the confrontation, Logan locked eyes with a young William Stryker.
The sheer, agonizing trauma of his future weaponization at Stryker's hands slammed into Logan's consciousness.
His mind fractured. He collapsed to his knees, screaming in pure agony.
In Kansas, the command center erupted.
Klaxons blared. Red warning lights bathed the room.
"ALERT. MASSIVE SPACETIME FLUCTUATION DETECTED IN SUBJECT LOGAN."
This was it. The absolute peak of Logan's temporal activity.
The anchor between dimensions was fully exposed. Ernst initiated the aggressive data rip.
Meanwhile, in Paris, the situation rapidly deteriorated.
Magneto, calculating the lethal variable Mystique represented to their future, made a ruthless decision.
To save the mutant race, Mystique had to die. If she were dead, Trask couldn't harvest her DNA to build the Sentinels.
Ignoring Beast's desperate attempts to restrain him, Magneto summoned a discarded pistol. He aimed and fired.
The bullet missed her heart, tearing through Mystique's leg. She went down hard.
Magneto advanced, ready to finish the execution.
Unnoticed in the chaos, a sleek watch on Mystique's wrist began to pulse with an urgent, violent red light.
- - - - - -
United Kingdom
The watch on Azazel's wrist suddenly screamed with a high-pitched vibration.
His eyes widened. The biometric telemetry was critical. Raven was bleeding.
"We are moving!" Azazel roared, his demonic voice echoing through the safehouse.
Emma Frost, Janos Quested, and Angel Salvadore snapped to attention.
They activated their tactical suits, bespoke armor Ernst had reverse-engineered from future Sentinel schematics to enhance their durability and completely mask their identities.
The trio slammed their hands onto Azazel's broad shoulders.
Azazel closed his eyes, locked onto the red-hot coordinate pinging from Mystique's wrist, and engaged his power.
With a deafening crack of displaced air and a massive cloud of black smoke, the extraction team vanished, rocketing toward the chaos in Paris.
-------------
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