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They kept in a cell barely large enough to lie down in—three concrete walls and one made of thick, transparent material that allowed them to observe at all tis. The suppressant collar remained around my neck, removed only during "testing sessions" when they wanted to asure my abilities.
Those sessions were hell on earth. They would place in a large, circular chamber with reinforced walls and force to produce fire until I collapsed from exhaustion. They injected with stimulants to push beyond my limits, attached electrodes to my brain to monitor neural activity during manifestation, cut tissue samples from my arms and legs while I was conscious to observe healing rates.
Sotis, they would put other "subjects" in the chamber with —people like , with abilities they couldn't explain or control. They would remove both our suppressant collars and order us to fight. If we refused, the consequences were severe.
I t Marcus, who could generate electrical currents with his mind; Eliza, who could manipulate the density of objects; Tomas, who could heal almost any injury with a touch. We ford fragile bonds in that terrible place, whispering to each other through the vents between our cells at night when the guards were less vigilant.
One by one, I watched them die—pushed too far in an experint, or executed when they were deed no longer useful. Tomas lasted the longest. His healing ability made him particularly valuable to the researchers. But even he couldn't survive having his organs harvested while conscious, his body kept alive artificially so they could observe how his regenerative abilities responded.
His screams still echo in my mory—not as nightmares, but as fuel for the hatred that kept alive.
By the ti I turned twenty-three, I was the longest-surviving subject in my block. My body was a roadmap of scars from countless procedures, and I had lost track of how many bones had been broken and allowed to heal improperly. The researchers had discovered that extre stress amplified my pyrokinetic abilities, so they found increasingly creative ways to traumatize .
Dr. Voss supervised it all with the sa detached interest she'd shown that first day. Sotis, I thought I saw a flicker of sothing like regret in her eyes when the experints went too far, but it never lasted. Science was her god, and she served it faithfully.
I stopped fighting eventually. What was the point? There was no escape from this place, no rescue coming. The outside world either didn't know we existed or didn't care. My only hope was that death would co quickly when they finally decided I had outlived my usefulness.
Then ca the day everything changed.
I was lying on my narrow cot, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the concrete for the thousandth ti. My latest session had been particularly brutal—they had subrged in ice water repeatedly, asuring how long it took my core temperature to return to normal, seeing if I could generate fire while underwater. I had failed most of their tests, earning myself a beating from the guards and no food for two days.
The facility's alarm system suddenly blared to life—a shrill, pulsing sound I'd never heard before. Red ergency lights began flashing in the corridor outside my cell. I sat up, wincing at the pain in my ribs, and moved to the transparent wall to see what was happening.
Guards were running past, weapons drawn. Scientists hustled in the opposite direction, clutching tablets and hard drives. No one spared a glance.
And then I felt it—a rumble beneath my feet, like distant thunder. The concrete floor trembled, dust sifting down from the ceiling. Another explosion, closer this ti, powerful enough to crack the floor. The lights flickered, went out, then ca back on running on ergency power.
Sothing was very wrong.
In the seven years I'd been imprisoned here, there had been escape attempts, power outages, even a small fire in one of the labs. But nothing like this. Nothing that caused this level of panic among my captors.
A massive explosion rocked the facility, close enough that I was thrown against the back wall of my cell. My ears rang from the concussive force. When I looked up, I saw that the transparent front of my cell had cracked—a spiderweb of fractures spreading across the surface.
Hope, a sensation I'd thought long dead, stirred feebly in my chest. I staggered to my feet and pressed my hands against the damaged barrier. It held firm despite the cracks. Still too strong to break through.
The corridor outside was chaos now—alarms blaring, sprinklers activating as smoke began to fill the air. I could hear screaming in the distance, punctuated by what sounded like gunfire. Whatever was happening, it wasn't a simple malfunction or accident.
Soone was attacking Facility Six.
I pounded on the cracked barrier, shouting for help, though I wasn't sure who I expected to respond. The guards had abandoned their posts, the scientists had fled, and the other subjects in nearby cells were doing the sa thing I was—desperately trying to attract attention from whoever or whatever was causing this destruction.
The smoke in the corridor grew thicker, and I began to cough. If the fire reached our cellblock with us still locked inside... well, I might survive, but the others wouldn't be so lucky.
Just as I was about to give up hope, a figure erged from the smoke—a silhouette that seed to shimr and waver in the heat. As it drew closer, I realized why: the figure was composed entirely of flas.
It stood before my cell, studying through the cracked barrier. I couldn't make out a face, just a vaguely humanoid shape wreathed in fire that burned so intensely it appeared white at its core, with what looked like charcoal or so other heat-resistant material forming its body structure. The heat emanating from it was palpable even through the barrier.
Then it spoke—a voice like crackling wood in a furnace.
"Samuel rcer?"
I nodded, too stunned to speak.
"Stand back," the figure commanded.
I scrambled to the rear of my cell. The fiery entity placed what might have been hands against the cracked barrier and poured itself into the material. The barrier glowed red, then white, then began to lt, dripping to the floor in molten rivulets.
When a hole big enough for to fit through had ford, the figure stepped back. "Quickly," it said. "Others are freeing the rest. This place burns in ten minutes."
I hesitated only for a mont before climbing through the opening, careful to avoid the still-molten edges. The heat in the corridor was intense, but after years of cold concrete and sterile examination rooms, it felt welcoming—like coming ho.
"Who are you?" I asked, staring at my rescuer.
"Later," it replied. "The collar first."
I had almost forgotten the suppressant collar that had been my constant companion for seven years. The fiery being reached toward my neck, and I instinctively flinched away.
"It will hurt," it warned. "But only for a mont."
Before I could respond, it placed burning fingers on the collar. I gritted my teeth, preparing for pain, but what I felt instead was a sudden rush of power as the device short-circuited. The collar fell away, clattering to the floor.
For the first ti in seven years, I could feel my ability flowing freely through . It was like taking a full breath after drowning—a rush of sensation that made dizzy. Fire blood in my palms, dancing eagerly across my fingers, responding to the rage and pain that had festered inside for so long.
I looked around at the burning facility—at the place that had stripped of my humanity, that had reduced to a number, that had tortured for the cri of being different.
And I laughed.
Not a sound of joy or relief, but sothing darker—the laugh of soone who has seen the bottom of the abyss and decided to make it his ho. After years of helplessness, of pain, of watching others like die while I survived only to suffer more, the sight of Facility Six in flas filled with savage pleasure.
The fiery entity watched , its featureless face sohow conveying approval. "Co," it said. "Others need help."
As we moved through the burning facility, I saw more beings like my rescuer—so composed of fire, others of earth or ice or pure energy. They were systematically destroying the complex, setting charges in key structural areas while others freed the imprisoned subjects.
I helped where I could, using my rekindled abilities to lt locks and create diversions. Most of the guards had fled, but a few tried to maintain control, firing weapons that seed pathetically inadequate against our liberators.
And ? I burned everything in my path. Every lab where I'd been cut open. Every observation room where scientists had taken notes while I scread. Every guard station where n had laughed while beating senseless.
The flas responded to my rage, growing hotter, wilder, more destructive than I'd ever been able to produce before. It was as if my power had been dormant all these years, building beneath the surface, waiting for this mont of liberation.
In the main laboratory—the room where I had endured countless tortures—I found Dr. Voss. She was frantically gathering research materials, loading them into a reinforced case. When she saw standing in the doorway, her eyes widened with fear.
"Subject 247," she said, trying to maintain her clinical detachnt even now. "This is a catastrophic mistake. The world isn't ready for beings like you. You don't understand the danger you represent."
I stepped closer, flas wreathing my arms. For years I had fantasized about this mont—about making her suffer as she had made suffer. I had imagined burning the flesh from her bones inch by inch, hearing her beg for rcy that wouldn't co.
Now, standing before her, seeing the fear in her eyes, those fantasies seed inadequate. Too quick. Too rciful.
"My na," I said quietly, "is Sam. And I'm exactly what you made ."
I raised my hand, and a stream of fire shot forth, not at her but at the case of research she was trying to save. It ignited instantly, years of data and samples reduced to ash in seconds.
"No!" she cried, lunging forward as if to save it. "You don't understand! That research could have helped others like you!"
"Helped us?" I laughed, the sound echoing off the laboratory walls. "Like you helped Tomas? Or Marcus? Or Eliza? Or the dozens of others who died in your care?"
I stepped closer, and she scrambled backward, her composure finally cracking. "Please, I was just following protocols. I never wanted to hurt anyone. It was for the greater good, for scientific advancent—"
"Science," I spat. "You hide behind that word like it absolves you. Like it justifies what you did to us."
The fire around my hands intensified, turning white-hot. Dr. Voss pressed herself against the wall, nowhere left to run.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "God help , I'm sorry."
"God isn't here," I replied. "And neither is rcy."
The flas leapt from my hands, engulfing her. Her screams joined the cacophony of alarms and explosions echoing through the facility. I watched, unmoved, as she writhed and flailed. This woman who had caused so much suffering, reduced to ash and bone.
And I felt... nothing. No satisfaction. No closure. Just a hollow emptiness where I'd expected triumph.
That should have frightened —that lack of feeling as I watched another human being burn to death. Instead, it cented sothing within . The final death of whatever normal human being I might have been.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin. Dozens of forr subjects were gathered there, many seeing the stars for the first ti in years. So were weeping. Others stood in shocked silence. A few were already demonstrating their abilities, free of suppression and fear.
The being who had rescued approached, still burning brightly in the darkness.
"Why?" I asked. "Why now? Why ?"
"Because you survived," it said simply. "Because your spark refused to die, even here.
The ruins still crackled with faint embers as Sam followed behind Alex, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The once-sterile facility now lay in smoldering ruin—bodies, steel, and ash strewn in chaotic testant to everything that had happened.
Around them, rescued mutants were being carefully helped into armored SHIELD transports. Children clung to their older siblings. So stared at Sam with fear, others with hesitant curiosity. No one spoke to him.
Alex walked with purpose ahead of him, giving quiet orders to the X-n, coordinating the survivors. The World Tree's influence was already stirring the edges of reality—the air around Alex shimred faintly with that otherworldly stillness.
Sam felt out of place. Like he didn't belong.
Then it happened.
A subtle pulse of warmth tickled the base of his spine. He stiffened—nobody noticed.
A red glow—no larger than a firefly—floated through the smoke behind the convoy. It pulsed once. Twice.
Then it shot forward.
Too fast for anyone to track. Too quiet to trigger alarms. Like a ghost with intent.
It slamd into Sam's back—and disappeared.
His breath caught. His heart skipped.
The world blurred for a second. He staggered, but caught himself.
No one saw it. No one turned.
But inside him, sothing ignited.
His veins flashed crimson beneath his skin for just a mont. His eyes flickered red—then returned to normal.
Alex turned his head, sensing sothing—but Sam was already upright again, shaking it off. He nodded silently when Alex gestured toward the transport. Just a flash of confusion crossed Alex's face, but he let it go.
As Sam stepped into the armored vehicle, he placed his hand on the tal wall—and for a brief second, the steel sizzled beneath his touch, leaving behind the faintest black scorch mark in the shape of a claw.
His eyes narrowed.
Sothing had entered him. Sothing watching. Breathing.
A voice whispered, just at the edge of his mind.
"I see you, little spark…"
But when he blinked—it was gone.
And the red glow with it.
The door sealed shut.
Engines roared.
The convoy rolled away into the snow.
Fade to black
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