The Flesh Factory

Posted on Thu Feb 6th, 2025 @ 2:26pm by Connor Bruin & Kayleigh Marshall & Drew Williams

5,932 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Genosha
Timeline: December 4th, 1990

Darkness gave way to a slow, throbbing ache in Connor’s skull. His body felt heavier than usual, sluggish, like he was wading through tar just to regain awareness. His gaze flicked down to Drew and Kayleigh, the only other teammates he could see. They needed to wake up. Soon.

When his eyes finally opened, the dim light of the prison car barely registered at first. He could feel the rhythmic hum beneath him—the steady vibration of a high-speed rail in motion. His wrists ached from the weight of reinforced shackles, and the heavy metal collar around his neck was cold against his skin. A test flex of his fingers confirmed the worst: no strength, no speed, no abilities. They’d been completely neutralized.

His head lolled to the side, vision adjusting to the dim space. Across from him, Drew and Kayleigh were still out cold, their hands bound in the same heavy restraints. Their chests rose and fell in steady rhythm, but bruises were already forming along their arms where they'd likely been manhandled into place.

Then, a voice cut through the low hum of the train.

"You are hereby property of the Genoshan state," the guard intoned, his voice cold and mechanical beneath the helmet’s voice modulator. "As mutants, you have no legal rights under Genoshan law. Your former status as individuals is revoked."

Connor's head slowly turned toward the source. The armored guard sat stiffly on a reinforced metal bench, his rifle resting across his lap, angled casually yet ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The dull glow of red optics behind his visor scanned over them, detached and unfeeling.

"You have been selected for further study. Your cooperation is not required, but compliance is advised," the guard continued, voice devoid of emotion. "Failure to comply will be met with immediate correction. If correction fails, disposal will be authorized." Looking up from his oversized clipboard, he said, "Nod your head if you understand."

Connor’s fingers twitched, a habit born of suppressed frustration. He rolled his jaw, wincing slightly at the dull pain in his cheek. A shiner had already started forming around his right eye—an unwelcome parting gift from their captors. Without his speech-generating device, his communication was limited to sign language and incoherent grunting.

Kayleigh had started to stir just prior to arrival, just awake enough to hear the guard’s words as she slowly moved to sit up. Her body ached, and the heavy shackles on her wrists, and the cold collar around her neck told her they were in real trouble. She gave the guard a nod to say she understood the rules, looking towards Drew hoping he was alright.

Drew's breathing was steady and deep, as if he was still unconscious. He was quite the opposite though. He was curious and perhaps a little scared, but he knew he trusted Connor. The guy had shown remarkable intelligence over the last few weeks. He would figure something out.

The Magistrate tilted his helmeted head slightly, the eerie red glow of his visor casting harsh reflections off the cold steel interior of the prison car. "Acknowledged," he said, his tone flat and clinical. "You will be medically assessed upon arrival. Depending on your viability, you may be sedated to ensure compliance." He paused for a moment, then added with dispassionate finality, "I advise you not to resist. Overdoses are… unfortunate."

The weight of the threat settled over them like a suffocating fog. Connor clenched his jaw, suppressing the reflex to glare at their captor. He needed information, not another concussion. The rhythmic vibrations beneath them shifted, signaling a change in velocity. They were slowing down.

The high-speed rail began its final descent into whatever hell awaited them. Dim emergency lighting cast the interior in sickly amber hues as the train passed beneath an archway carved from pale stone, its outer façade gleaming in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, the outside world came into view through reinforced slats in the walls—a glimpse of Genosha's stark coastline giving way to towering structures that were equal parts palace and underground bunker.

The compound itself was a grotesque marriage of cold scientific precision and regal opulence. Great statues of faceless Magistrates stood at attention along the outer walls, their stone visages weathered yet imposing. Black banners bearing Genosha's insignia draped over pristine white stone, the contrast as striking as it was ominous.

Connor’s breath hitched, his mind racing to process what he was seeing. This wasn’t just a prison or a research facility. This was something else entirely. But how could he communicate that to Drew and Kayleigh? How could he even begin to describe the dread creeping into his chest?

The train shuddered as it reached its destination. Locks disengaged with mechanical finality. The Magistrate guard stood, leveling his rifle toward them in a wordless command. "Welcome to your new purpose," he said, stepping back as the doors slid open with a cold hiss.

Blinding fluorescent lights flooded the car, revealing a team of white-coated researchers waiting just beyond the threshold. Some held tablets, others carried restraints designed for transport. But they all had the same calculating expression—the detached curiosity of scientists about to inspect their latest subjects.

Connor swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still. This is only the beginning.

Kayleigh could see the fear that Connor was trying to keep under control, what she didn’t understand was what they wanted with her, although a second thought of what they could with her healing abilities was frightening. She stood alongside Connor giving him a worried look, what were they all going to be put through here?”

Drew waited for the guards to carry his apparently unconscious form off the train car. He knew his powers were being subdued by the collar around his neck, but what the guards did not know is that he had recovered seconds after the initial attack had incapacitated the whole team. All thanks to his accelerated healing. He had listened to their captors speaking as the team was rounded up and secured for transport. He just needed time for the guards and, now the scientists, to grow complacent.

As the trio was marched from the tram, shackles clanking with every step, Connor kept his gaze forward, absorbing every detail he could. The glassed-in corridor they were led through was unnervingly sterile, its sleek white walls reflecting the harsh fluorescent lighting above. Beyond the glass, vast research labs stretched into the distance, filled with high-tech equipment, vats of unknown substances, and rows of figures in pristine white coats working diligently over restrained mutants.

The lead scientist, a tall man with sharp features and an air of clinical detachment, walked alongside their armed escort, his hands clasped neatly behind his back as if he were leading a guided tour. His voice was smooth, pleasant even, but entirely devoid of empathy.

"You are now standing in one of the most advanced genetic research facilities in the world," he began, gesturing with a slow sweep of his hand. "Designed and perfected by the brilliant mind of the Genengineer himself, this facility houses the culmination of decades of genetic refinement. And at its heart… The Machine."

They were led into a large chamber, a cathedral of cold science and cruel purpose. At the center stood an imposing construct of polished steel and pulsating energy conduits, humming with barely contained power from a large, glowing cube that clearly served as its generator. Monitors displayed shifting genetic readouts, helixes rotating in precise rhythm, while robotic arms twitched in anticipation of their next subject.

"The Machine," the scientist continued, his voice tinged with admiration, "is a triumph of modern science. In mere seconds, it can analyze human DNA with 99.5?curacy, isolating the genetic markers that signify mutant potential. But its true brilliance lies in what follows—projection, manipulation, and, if necessary…" He turned to them with a knowing smirk. "Correction."

Connor's fingers twitched through the shackles. The weight of what they were being told sent a shiver through him. This wasn’t just a research lab—it was a factory for forced evolution.

"Preliminary scans from when you were rendered unconscious at the port suggest that all three of you possess significant abilities within the categories we are currently studying," the scientist continued, adjusting his glasses as he scrutinized them like specimens under a microscope. "The simplest path forward is cooperation. Reveal the full scope of your abilities now, and we can proceed with a far less invasive method of study. Otherwise, well…" He turned to gesture at a chair fitted with mechanical restraints and a web of syringes. "Our standard methods are be extremely... thorough."

Kayleigh looked towards the chair with its restraints and syringes, to say she was feeling panicked by the sight was an understatement. “I... won’t speak for my companions, but...” she looked towards Connor. “I’m sorry, Connor, I can’t be restrained in that...” She motioned to the chair, then looked towards the scientist. “As much as I’d love to say screw you...” She offered a wry smile. “It appears I have little choice, I’ll cooperate.”

Drew was recovering from the gut punch he had received while feigning unconsciousness when they were offloaded from the train. It had made him realize that subterfuge was not going to be a viable option. The collar around his neck was acting as a dampener to his abilities, but he had spent the last few minutes trying to test some of his not visibly obvious abilities. One thing he couldn't figure out was why he had been singled out with Kayleigh and Connor. He glanced at the chair, then Kayleigh and finally Connor. "I have to go along with Kayleigh on this. Nothing is going to be gained if we are tortured. I am going to make one addendum though." He looked at the scientist. "I am still going to say screw you, man. I hope you burn in Hell for what you're doing."

The lead scientist chuckled, shaking his head as though amused by Drew’s defiance. "How prosaic," he mused. "Heaven and Hell are only inches apart."

With a snap of his fingers, one of the guards tapped a control panel, and the smooth, sterile surface of the wall behind him flickered before shifting into transparency.

Beyond the glass was a medical bay, cold and clinical, where Ty lay restrained on a gurney, his arms and legs secured by reinforced straps. Electrodes dotted his bare skin, wires running to monitors that displayed fluctuating neural activity. Tubes fed a slow-drip cocktail of sedatives into his veins, ensuring he remained drugged but not unconscious—awake enough to feel everything but too weakened to resist.

Inside the room with him, another scientist murmured into a recorder. "Subject displays physiological changes during Darkforce engagement. The nature of this energy remains elusive, though it appears to be linked to synaptic processes rather than purely external projection. If conclusive data cannot be obtained through standard observation, exploratory brain surgery will commence within the week."

The lead scientist turned back to them, his smirk widening. "We’re quite eager to explore the nature of his abilities. Perhaps we should expedite his procedure, if only to set an example?" He let the threat linger.

Connor's jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists within his restraints. His knuckles went white, but his response was wordless—he simply lifted both hands, middle fingers raised defiantly.

The lead scientist sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "How unfortunate."

With another signal, the guards seized Connor, yanking him backward toward one of the examination chairs. He struggled, his boots scuffing against the floor, but the shackles and collar kept his strength sapped. The cold metal of the restraints clamped around his limbs, locking him in place as mechanical arms whirred to life, needles primed to extract their samples by force.

The scientist turned back to Drew and Kayleigh, adjusting his glasses with a casual flick of his fingers. "Truly shame. He’s opted for the hard way. But you two still have a choice." His smirk didn’t fade. "Tell me the full breadth of your abilities, and you will be spared the discomfort he is about to receive. Or you can join him in it."

The last chance to reveal their abilities to the Genoshan scientists hung heavy between them.

Drew gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm a speedster, capable of running at a sustained speed of 240 miles per hour with short sprints around 300 miles per hour. I have an accelerated healing factor and perception reaction time that's about 20 to 25 times faster than human norms. I guess it all began when I entered puberty and they've grown at an exponential rate every year." He nodded to Connor who had been running ability tests recently. "My companion thinks I may be able to go super sonic in the next year, year in a half, but I am going to need special gear to safely get there and maintain those speeds. Release him and he could tell you more about what his testing on me has revealed...or leave him there and waste time on a unwilling subject when you have a willing one."

Kayleigh watched in horror as Connor was forced into the chair. She wouldn’t see him hurt, not for her. “I have a healing touch, if someone is injured I can heal them, the downside being is that the injury transfers to me instead.” She paused. “I’m also Thermokinetic, and Temperature Resistant. In other words I can manipulate heat from any source, whether it’s humanoid, natural or man made. My Temperature Resistance makes me impervious to heat and cold. I’m also good with plants.”

The lead scientist barely spared Connor a glance as the restrained mutant thrashed against the examination chair behind him. Instead, he frantically scribbled down notes on his clipboard, his expression coolly detached.

"Fascinating," he murmured, tapping the pen thoughtfully against his lips as he glanced at Kayleigh. "Thermodynamic manipulation may be the unifying factor between your claimed abilities. The ability to influence heat gradients, alter energy transference in living tissue, and endure extreme temperatures… If true, it suggests a potential for direct molecular excitation." He looked back down at his notes and gave a small, dispassionate shrug. "Unfortunately, given the complexity of your description, verification is still required."

Dr. Julius turned, motioning to the guards. "Proceed with standard testing. Place her in the chair along with the males."

A new voice interrupted him.

"That won’t be necessary, Dr. Julius."

The room fell silent. The guards straightened with a click of their boots on the metal floor. Even the scientists seemed to shrink slightly, adjusting their postures as the man strode into view.

David Moreau, the Genengineer, was unimpressive in stature, but his presence was suffocating, as if he carried on the winds of madness. He comported himself with the cold authority of a powerful man who had long since stopped viewing his subjects as anything but data points on a chart. His white coat was crisp, unwrinkled despite the heat of the facility. His face, carved from stone, held not even the faintest trace of curiosity.

The lead scientist immediately straightened, lowering his head in a shallow bow. "Your Excellency."

Moreau barely acknowledged him. His gaze swept over Connor, Drew, and Kayleigh—one glance, and they had already been assessed, categorized, discarded.

"Skip the preliminary examinations," he instructed, his voice devoid of emotion. "These are X-Men. That means they're already anomalies and they have been trained to resist interrogation. They are to be taken directly to the Machine for full genetic analysis."

Dr. Julius hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding. "Yes, Your Excellency. Of course."

The Magistrates yanked the trio to their knees before Moreau, the cold metal of their shackles biting into their skin. The Genegineer looked down at them, his gaze as indifferent as a man inspecting livestock.

"You're not the famous ones," he stated flatly. "No Cyclops, Iceman, or Marvel Girl." His eyes flicked between them, unimpressed. "Just strays, culled from the herd. I doubt you have anything of value to reveal."

His head tilted slightly, as if considering.

"No matter. I will extract what I need, piece by piece, until your DNA surrenders its secrets." Eyes settling on Connor, he gave a single affirmative nod. He turned sharply, motioning toward the chamber ahead. "Begin with him."

The Machine was a towering construct of gleaming metal and pulsating conduits, its architecture eerily reminiscent of a stasis pod—something designed to envelop and transform the subject within. The glass casing was reinforced, latticed with glowing veins of unknown energy, and at its core, the power source flickered like a dying star.

Connor was hauled forward first, his struggles barely registering as the Magistrates locked him in place. His wide blue eyes disappeared behind the tinted port hole in the pod door.

The moment the Machine activated, the chamber filled with an unnatural hum. The air thickened, warping slightly around the pod. Screens flickered to life, displaying complex genetic sequences and energy readings.

"We see the usual markers for enhanced strength, agility, reflexes, and so on. There is also a significant neuroplasticity within the brain. The subject is undoubtedly a fast learner." Dr. Julius, the lead scientist who had deferred to the Genengineer, frowned slightly as data streamed across the monitors. "There are unexpected results," he noted. "His genome carries markers we have yet to classify… There is evidence of energy absorption, but not in any known spectrum. It suggests a transdimensional component. Curious."

Moreau folded his arms, his expression unreadable. One piece of data perked his brow. "Explain the aphasia."

Dr. Julius clicked his tongue, scrolling through the data. "The unknown energy signatures cluster strangely around the subject's brain. Without the benefit of such mapping, I'd say he presented with a form of glioblastoma. But there's no cyst or no lesion. The dysfunction is simply… there."

Inside the Machine, Connor let out a strangled gasp, his body twitching. The pod powered down, its containment field releasing. The Magistrates caught him as he collapsed forward, his tongue hanging from his mouth, breath ragged. He slumped to the floor, utterly drained, as if he had just run a marathon without ever moving.

Moreau barely spared him a glance. "Next," he said, turning his gaze to Kayleigh and Drew. "Who volunteers?"

Drew glanced at Kayleigh for the span of a heart beat before stepping forward. He knew he couldn't prevent her from being subjected to what this Machine would do to her, but he could delay it. If for just a few minutes. "I do." He walked up to the Machine on his own and waited for the technician to strap him in. Resistance seemed pointless at this point. Struggling would just waste energy, something he might need later if an opportunity presented itself.

Inside the Machine, Drew barely had time to register the restraints locking him in place before the agony began. Every cell in his body ignited, stretched thin and compressed all at once, like he was being pulled apart at a molecular level. His bones vibrated with unbearable intensity, his skin burned from within, and his pulse roared in his ears as if his own metabolism was trying to outrun death itself.

Through the observation glass, Dr. Jarvis studied the readouts, his expression clinical, unbothered by the suffering before him.

"Fascinating," he murmured, tapping a few notes into his tablet. "Subject's neuromuscular adaptation allows for sustained high-velocity movement beyond normal human thresholds. Cellular metabolism is operating at an enhanced rate, allowing prolonged exertion with minimal fatigue. Secondary enhancements to stamina and accelerated recovery suggest resilience against both injury and disease."

He scrolled through additional data as the Machine continued its deep scan. "Reaction time is significantly above baseline—processing speed is near-instantaneous. Healing factor engages at an accelerated rate, mitigating damage within hours rather than days."

That gave pause to the Genegineer as his thoughts went racing. "This level of adaptive biology could prove invaluable to the fertility programs. Imagine an entire generation bred for endurance, for speed. A force capable of outpacing and outlasting any opposition. Isolating this genetic marker could prove highly beneficial." Moreau exhaled, hoping his benefactor would be pleased. "We shall see." He flicked a hand in dismissal. "Get him out."

The Machine powered down with a hiss, containment field disengaging. Drew's body convulsed as the Magistrates yanked him free, his limbs trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Every nerve screamed in protest, his muscles spasming as if he had just pushed his body beyond its limits.

Connor reached out and gave Drew's arm an affirming squeeze. It had been several minutes and he still had a hard time getting off the floor.

Moreau's gaze drifted to Kayleigh, his disinterest absolute. "Next."

Kayleigh barely had time to breathe before they forced her into the Machine. The restraints clamped down, locking her body in place as the pod sealed shut. Then came the pain.

It was worse than anything she had ever felt—every nerve ignited, her cells vibrating with unstable energy, her body stretched and compressed as if it was being rewritten at the most fundamental level. Her bones ached with a deep, sickening pressure, her skin burned both hot and cold, as if her entire being was unraveling into pure sensation. She tried to scream, but no sound came.

Dr. Jarvis watched the monitors with interest, his fingers flying across his tablet as the data flooded in. "Interesting… The entropy signature is intrinsic, woven into every facet of her biological processes. Perhaps she was telling the truth—healing, thermokinesis, temperature resistance... all stemming from the same fundamental thermodynamic principle. A natural stabilizer, perhaps?”

Moreau let out a short, sharp laugh. "You lack imagination, Jarvis.” He stepped forward, eyes gleaming as he studied Kayleigh's readouts with something close to satisfaction. "This girl is more than a glorified Band-Aid or a walking thermostat. Entropy is the ultimate currency. If I correct her genome—tweak it properly—she could regulate more than heat, more than energy."

He turned, gesturing broadly. "Food supplies that never spoil. Chemical compounds that decay steel into tissue paper on command. Rapid disintegration of one object while supercharging another into the plasmoid fourth state of matter, the ability to impose order or chaos at will—controlled entropy is controlled existence. And with the right adjustments..." His grin widened. "... clinical immortality would be within reach."

Jarvis absorbed this in silence, then nodded. "Shall I prepare a more invasive study, Your Excellency?"

Moreau glanced at the screens again, eyes flicking between Kayleigh's writhing form and the struggling figure of Ty on another monitor. "Yes. Mark her for exploratory brain surgery before the Darkforce subject."

"The procedure will be scheduled for tomorrow," Jarvis confirmed, making a note.

The Machine powered down, releasing Kayleigh with a hiss. She fell forward, caught limply by waiting Magistrates. Her body twitched, utterly drained, her breath ragged and weak.

"Take them away," Moreau ordered dismissively. "And inform me if any other high profile subjects are under review."

The Magistrates dragged the trio down a long, sterile corridor before tossing them into a small, cold cell. The room was clinical and lifeless—just a row of cots, a single toilet, and feeding tubes mounted along the wall, as if they were nothing more than lab mice waiting for the next round of testing.

The heavy door slammed shut behind them, locking them in.

Connor let out a moan and flashed a few hand signs regarding his state of being. To his chagrin, there was no speech-generating device to speak for him. The worry lines on his forehead spoke volumes though. His concern was for his friends.

Kayleigh slowly dragged herself into a corner propping herself up against the wall, she had never felt anything like what they’d just done to her, her whole body ached and her head was throbbing. She wiped away a few tears embarrassed to be seen crying in-front of Connor and Drew.

Drew lay prone on the floor for a few minutes. He focused on his breathing. He finally let out a long sigh before sitting up and repositioning himself next to Connor. He spoke in a very soft manner in case there were monitoring devices in the cells. "Couldn't let you know before, but I think I might have a little of my abilities left despite the dampening affect. I've used my perception to kind of guage how much of my speed I might be retaining. I think I can move at a speed 3 or 4 times human norms, I don't think I'd be able to maintain it for very long, ten, fifteen seconds, no more than twenty at most. I want to wait for an opportunity that will let me take out no more than one or two of the scientists or guards and get a key get these shackles and collar off."

Kayleigh caught part of what Drew was saying, moving a little closer she kept her voice low. “You can’t Drew... if you try anything they’ll kill you! You saw what they were doing. I... don’t know if I’ll even be alive this time tomorrow, but if I don’t at least let me die knowing you’ll live!”

Connor shook his head, frustration evident in the deep furrow of his brow. His hands instinctively moved through the motions of signing, but without his speech-generating device, the words remained locked in his head. The haptic gloves still encased his fingers, a cruel reminder of how useless they were without a receiver to interpret them.

Drew's belief that he had even a shred of power left with the collar on was either wishful thinking or the result of a head injury he hadn’t accounted for yet. Connor turned to Kayleigh, nodding vigorously in agreement—she was right. The collars were absolute. If Drew felt anything, it was either adrenaline or a trick of the mind.

Balling his fists, Connor shook them dramatically before punching his palm, then waving his index finger in front of him—an emphatic no. Then, he tapped two fingers against his temple, miming deep thought, and followed it with a thumbs up. They had to think their way out of this.

The problem was, thinking hurt. A deep, pulsing ache throbbed behind his eyes, like a migraine spreading its roots through his skull. Connor winced, pressing his fingers to his forehead, and let out a sharp exhale. His body was drained, his thoughts sluggish.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the nearest cot, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. What were they going to do?

Drew and Kayleigh exchanged glances before each retreated to their own cots, exhaustion and uncertainty weighing heavily in the stark silence. The sterile white walls of the cell felt like they were closing in, the quiet broken only by the occasional hum of unseen machinery.

Then, with a soft beep, the cell door slid open.

A Magistrate stepped inside, his heavy boots echoing against the cold floor. He moved with deliberate confidence, his armored frame casting an imposing shadow across the dim room. Without a word, he retrieved a keycard from his belt and swiped it against an unseen panel in the wall. The smooth white surface hissed open, revealing a control terminal. At his command, the observation window’s shutters sealed shut, and the blinking red light on the embedded ceiling camera winked out.

Connor was on his feet in an instant. Though his shackles limited his movement, he instinctively positioned himself between the Magistrate and his teammates, hands raised in a crude boxing stance.

The Magistrate chuckled through his helmet, clearly amused. Then, with deliberate ease, he crossed his arms over his chest in the shape of an X before reaching up and unclasping his helmet.

As the helmet came free, it revealed a face that couldn’t have been much older than their own—a handsome, blonde young man with sharp, knowing eyes and an unmistakable smirk.

"Connor," he said with a laugh, "I'd ask what you're doing here, but those uniforms are a dead giveaway. Is it too much to hope that—"

Connor's eyes went wide with recognition. He suddenly began jumping in place, pointing frantically at the unmasked Magistrate like an overexcited kid.

The blonde man snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." Reaching behind him, he pulled out something battered and barely intact—a charred, cracked device. "I recovered this from the reclamation locker. Figured it belonged to you."

Connor snatched up his speech-generating device, fingers moving fast as he tried to pair it with his gloves. For a long, painful second, nothing happened. Then—beep!

A hoot of joy escaped him, the sound raw and triumphant. Connor looked at Drew and Kayleigh before rapidly signing three words.

"HAVOK," his device vocalized. "ALEX SUMMERS."

“Summers?” Kayleigh looked at Alex curiously. No doubt he was related to Cyclops, but now wasn’t the time for personal questions. “Am I glad to see you!”

Drew glanced from Connor to Alex an anxious expression on his face. "Nice to meet you, Alex. Can you do something about these collars and restraints...and possibly get us the hell out of here?"

Alex let out a short, amused laugh. "I like you, new guy. Straight to business." He twirled the keycard between his fingers before stepping forward, sliding it through a thin slot on each of their collars. One by one, the locks clicked open, and the heavy restraints clattered to the floor. The moment they were free, Alex tucked the card away and dusted off his hands.

"Better?" he asked, smirking as he crossed his arms. "Now, as much as I'd love to skip straight to the part where we all walk out of here like badasses, I need to know what I'm working with. I already know Connor—" he shot the other man a pointed look, "—and that if I turn my back for too long, he's gonna start rigging something to explode."

Connor grinned, wiggling his fingers mischievously.

Alex turned to the other two. "So, what about you guys? You're a speedster and you're an energy manipulator, kind of like me." He gave her a wink. "But tell me what I'm missing. Like your names?"

Drew shook out his limbs. He could feel his abilities returning with the removal of the restraints He took the collar and shackles he'd been wearing and shoved them into pockets for later study. "I'm Drew Williams code name..." he paused and looked at Connor for a moment before turning back to Alex with a shrug. "Haven't gotten a codename as of yet."

"VELOCITY," Connor signed. "IT CAME OUT OF A DANGER ROOM SESSION AND SEEMS VERY APROPOS."

Alex's smirk widened. "Now we're talking! Nice to know the Prof found a speedster of our own."

“I’m Kayleigh Marshall, or Ember if you prefer.” She offered a warm smile. “We’ll have to compare notes on our abilities sometime, silly question but how did you know what Drew and I can do?”

"Not a lot of time for questions," Alex said, looking at the sealed room, "but let's just say the Magistrate I stole this armor from is going to be in a lot of trouble once we break out. The info from the Machine was uploaded to the database which I accessed using his keycard along with this room." He made a sorrowful grimace at mentioning that awful experience. "I'm with the Genoshan Resistance and my mission was to break out the other guy, Tyrone Johnson. But that changed. X-Men don't leave each other behind. We'll have to make a break for it and try again with more backup."

Connor nodded at that. They were stuck behind enemy lines with no support. If there was a way to get out and return with a solid plan, that would be for the best. His first priority was for his team.

"LEAD THE WAY, HAVOK."

Alex grinned at Connor’s trust, giving him a quick salute. "Alright then, follow my lead and stay quiet."

He moved swiftly, leading them through the sterile white halls of the facility. The air was thick with the hum of unseen machinery, and the faint scent of antiseptic clung to every surface. They rounded a corner where a security camera swiveled toward them. Sparks showered the floor as the camera fizzled out.

"That was a close one," Alex muttered. He gestured for them to keep moving.

Further ahead, another camera loomed, its blinking red light a stark warning. Connor shot a questioning look at Alex, but the blonde smirked and held up both hands. His palms crackled with energy before another tightly controlled burst of plasma streaked upward, punching through the ceiling with a thunderous explosion.

The walls trembled as dust and debris rained down. Alarm klaxons blared to life, echoing down the corridors. A gaping hole now yawned open above them, spanning multiple floors up toward the surface.

Connor instinctively backed up, staring at the destruction. "HOW CAN WE ESCAPE THROUGH THAT?"

Alex turned, his smirk widening. "We don't."

Without further explanation, he took off at a sprint in the opposite direction, motioning for the others to follow.

Kayleigh quickly followed on behind Havok, the guards would believe that they’d escaped through the hole giving them more time to find another way out.

Drew looked at the others take off down the corridor. He couldn't help a little smile play across his face. He surged forward and zipped between and around all of them to reach a cross corridor. He could hear two people approach from the left cross corridor.

Alex pressed himself against the wall, holding up a hand to signal a full stop. The approaching footsteps grew louder, then faded as two Magistrates strode past the intersection, weapons at the ready. They were moving fast, heading toward the wreckage Alex had left behind. Perfect.

Once the coast was clear, Alex motioned for the others to follow. He led them down another corridor, scanning door panels until he found the one he was looking for. After a quick glance inside, he stepped back and waved them in.

"Alright, everybody, suit up," he instructed in a hushed tone.

Inside the room, sleek black Magistrate armor was neatly stored inside transparent containment units, lined up like soldiers waiting for deployment. Each set was equipped with reinforced plating, helmets with built-in voice modulators, and stun batons attached to their belts.

"If we move fast," Alex continued, "we can blend in with the contingent of Magistrates heading out to search for us, then slip onto the tram out of this hellhole. No questions, no second-guessing, and let me do the talking until we reach friendly ground out in the jungle."

Connor met Alex's gaze and nodded firmly before raising his hands to sign. "UNDERSTOOD. WE FOLLOW YOUR LEAD."

With no time to waste, they suited up and made for the tram, blending in with Magistrates responding to the security alert. Each step to the tram was fraught with the peril of discovery, but Alex lent his confidence to the rest of them. Before they knew it, the tram doors closed behind them. The automated tram system took them out of the Flesh Factory and into freedom.

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