Vs The Facility (II)

( 3rd POV )

Back in the control room, Adam Harkins's fingers danced over the keyboard as he frantically transferred data to an external drive. "Why is this taking so long? Tsk," he muttered, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, willing the progress bar to move faster.

He glanced at the security feeds once again, his heart racing. Most of the monitors now displayed static, and the few that remained active showed scenes of utter devastation. Guards lay unconscious or worse, and the intruders were carving a path straight toward him.

Suddenly, the feeds cut out entirely. Adam froze, his blood running cold. "Damn, it. What now?"

In the shadows of the security room, Hassan of the Hundred Faces moved silently, her presence undetected. One of her aspects had already sabotaged the cameras, while another disabled the facility's exits, ensuring no one could escape. While her main body already moving towards Dr. Harkins's position, ready to interfere at any time.

Ken's team emerged into the central atrium—a sprawling, multi-leveled expanse with catwalks crisscrossing above and machinery humming ominously in the shadows. The harsh red glow of the alarm lights bathed the room in an otherworldly hue, pulsing in rhythm with the blaring sirens.

Mordred stood at the center, leaning casually on her blade, Clarent, with an air of dissatisfaction. Her silver armor gleamed in the dim light, and her narrowed eyes scanned the empty expanse.

She kicked a piece of debris, her voice dripping with frustration. "This place is pathetic. I feel I've got scammed somehow! Where's the real challenge!?"

Ken glanced at her, his expression as deadpan as ever. "What kind of challenge were you expecting? A BEAST?" He shook his head, his exasperation clear but laced with subtle amusement.

Before Mordred could snap back with a retort, a sound like rushing wind filled the vast atrium. A low, unnatural hum accompanied it, reverberating through the towering metallic walls, as if the facility itself had taken a breath. The group instinctively tensed, muscles coiling like drawn wires, as figures emerged from the upper levels. They descended with a disturbing grace, their pristine white wings catching the ominous crimson light that bathed the room.

They looked like angels—no, not angels. Their synchronized movements, their identical features, the eerie glow in their eyes... Ken felt his stomach churn.

"Intruders detected…" Their voices rang out in unison, hollow and mechanical, devoid of any human inflection. "Project CHOIR, commence the cleansing operation."

A hundred pairs of eyes shone with an ominous red glow, locking onto Ken and his group with chilling calculation.

Ken exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching. "You just had to jinx it," he muttered, shooting a sidelong glance at the lion cub perched nearby.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the uniformity of their enemies—the symmetry, the blank expressions, the unmistakable white hue of their feathers. "Tsk, Clones." he muttered.

The wings, the uniformity—it all felt disturbingly familiar for him. "Warren... No, these are definitely clones of him." His voice held a mixture of disbelief and disgust as his mind raced to connect the dots. It was one of the X-Men's clone, Warren Worthington.

A soft chuckle escaped Ushiwakamaru as she stepped forward, her katana gleaming in the dim light. Her sharp eyes assessed the descending horde with the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior. "So these are the surprises Da Vinci mentioned." Her smirk deepened, an ember of excitement flickering in her gaze. "Looks like the facility has rolled out its precious little pets for us. Almost a hundred-winged chickens just waiting to be plucked."

Mash tightened her grip on her shield, the massive slab of adamantine reflecting the glow of her lavender eyes. She planted her feet, her voice calm but firm. "Everyone, stay sharp. They're coming in fast."

Mordred's grin spread like wildfire as she hoisted Clarent onto her shoulder. Her bloodlust was palpable, her laughter ringing out like a war drum. "Ahahaha! About damn time! COME ON!"

And then the CHOIR subjects struck.

They descended like a tidal wave, their wings slicing through the air with a keening whistle, razor-sharp and blindingly fast. The first impact came like a thunderclap.

Mash surged forward, meeting the leading attacker head-on. Her shield collided with their charge, a deafening clang ringing through the chamber as the impact sent tremors up her arms. Her muscles screamed under the strain, but she gritted her teeth and stood firm. More of them followed, launching a relentless barrage of strikes, forcing her into a defensive dance of precise movements.

"Their movements are too coordinated!" Mash called out, deflecting another attack with a calculated shove. "It's like they're connected through a hive mind!"

Ushiwakamaru was already moving, weaving through the chaos with inhuman agility. Her katana flickered, a flash of silver against the dark, cutting through the air with deadly elegance. The first clone barely had time to react before she severed its wing in a single, fluid stroke. It crumpled, spiraling to the floor as another lunged for her, only to meet the same fate.

She exhaled sharply, the scent of metal thick in the air. "They may be strong," she mused, her blade carving a path through the fray, "but they lack the heart of true warriors."

Mordred, in contrast, met the horde with sheer brute force. She charged like a wild, reckless force of nature, Clarent igniting in a crimson blaze. One of the clones dared to meet her head-on, its wings flaring in challenge, but she only grinned wider. She swung. The impact sent sparks flying, the force of the blow splitting the air. The clone staggered back with one of his wings being broken, barely keeping its balance.

"Not bad, not bad!" Mordred barked, exhilaration coursing through her. She lunged forward, carving into its defenses. "Finally! A qualified punching bag!"

Ken, meanwhile, remained at the outskirts of the chaos, his sharp gaze analyzing the battle like a tactician on the field. Each strike, each movement—there was a pattern. They were fast. Their wings, deceptively strong, could withstand a direct clash with Mash's shield. But something stood out.

"They're synchronized," he murmured, his mind racing. "But they're not adapting. They're strong, but not deadly enough. Just like a programmed machine…"

And therein lay their weakness.

His voice rang out with the authority of a seasoned Master. "Mash! Cover Ushiwakamaru's flank! Mordred, push the left side and keep them off balance! I'll take the right!"

"Hai, Senpai."

"Leave it to me, Ken-sama."

"Ahahaha, you've got it, Master!"

Ken exhaled, his fingers tightening around the hilts of his twin daggers. "Kyoka," he muttered the incantations.

The magic circuits beneath his Mystic Code flared to life, sending intricate patterns of glowing lines spiraling across his body. His muscles tensed as reinforcement surged through him, enhancing his strength, speed, and reflexes to superhuman levels.

Simultaneously, his Memory Partition and Thought Acceleration spells activated, slicing time into razor-thin fractions within his mind. He processed multiple battle strategies at once, reading the ebb and flow of combat as though the battlefield itself had been laid bare before him in a web of trajectories and possibilities.

A dark grin split his face as he raised his reinforced daggers in an X-formation before him. The blades hummed with magical power, their edges sharpened beyond mortal comprehension.

"Let's do this."

Without hesitation, Ken became a blur, launching himself toward the right flank where the enemy clones lurked. They moved in eerie synchronization, their hollow eyes flickering with an artificial malice. One of them, a CHOIR unit, detected his approach and lunged at him with terrifying velocity, its massive, feathered wings propelling it forward like a missile.

In mere seconds, the distance between them closed—two meters, then one.

For an average magus, this moment would spell doom. The clone's augmented strength and the acceleration granted by its wings would turn it into a living projectile, a force strong enough to shatter human bones on impact. But Ken was no ordinary magus.

His grin widened, mirroring Mordred's savage anticipation. Then, at the precise moment before collision, space itself fractured.

A digitalized rift tore open between them, shimmering with unstable, glitching patterns. The CHOIR unit's predatory gaze flickered in confusion, but before it could react, Ken was gone—vanished into the void.

A second later, the rift reopened above and behind the clone.

Ken emerged like a phantom from the darkness, his daggers gleaming under the blood-drenched sky. With a predatory dive, he descended, blades singing through the air. He struck with merciless precision, slicing through the clone's wings in a brutal flourish. Red lines of death traced his cuts, and in an instant, the appendages were gone, torn from the creature's body like discarded scraps.

The CHOIR unit had no time to react before Ken's boot found its mark, planting itself squarely against its spine. The two plummeted, the ground rushing up to meet them in a devastating impact. Dust and debris exploded outward, cracks spiderwebbing through the already fractured earth.

But Ken did not stop.

With fluid, unrelenting motion, he shifted his weight and slammed his foot down onto the clone's skull like an overripe fruit. A sickening crunch echoed through the battlefield as its head caved in, a pulped ruin beneath his heel. Gore splattered across the war-torn ground, painting the broken concrete in fresh crimson color of tomato.

Silence followed—brief, stunned.

The others halted, eyes flicking toward him in stunned silence. His companions had seen him fight before, but this... this was something else.

Ken turned, his glowing blue-red eyes locking onto the remaining horde of clones. A predatory grin stretched across his face, manic and exultant. He twirled his daggers, their edges dripping with the remnants of his latest kill.

"One down... ninety-nine to go."

.....

Deep within the facility, past corridors soaked in red emergency lighting, past shattered security gates and torn metal doors, something darker stirred.

The containment chamber for one of The Facility greatest creations was a dimly lit, sterile prison, its reinforced glass walls humming with an eerie, artificial energy. The air reeked of antiseptic and cold steel.

Inside, a girl—barely more than a teenager, but with the presence of a seasoned predator—was shackled to a metallic frame, her limbs restrained by thick, unyielding cuffs. Suppressive devices latched onto her skin like leeches, pulsing with bioelectric energy designed to subdue her feral instincts. Yet, despite her bound state, her emerald eyes gleamed with something raw and untamed.

Rage.

X-23—breathed slowly, measured. But beneath that calm, the storm brewed.

The steel doors hissed open with a hydraulic whine, the sound slithering into the silence like an unwelcome whisper. Footsteps followed—deliberate, smug, predatory in their own right. And then, the voice. Sickly sweet, laced with venom.

"Well, well, little wolf," Kimura purred, stepping into view. Her lips curled into a smile that lacked all warmth, all humanity. "Looks like today's your lucky day."

The girl's head snapped up, muscles coiling like a drawn bowstring. A metallic snikt filled the air as her claws—razor-sharp, extended on instinct. The restraints held, but her intent was clear.

Kimura's amusement only grew. "Still so eager to fight, huh? You really never learn." She approached the control panel with an air of absolute confidence, her fingers dancing over the switches. "Struggle all you want, pup. We both know how this ends."

The girl pulled harder against the bindings, her shoulders screaming in protest, but the suppressors flared to life, sending an electric pulse through her system. Her body spasmed, pain burning along her spine. Her teeth clenched, but no scream escaped her lips. She would not give this monster in woman clothing that satisfaction.

A mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, extending a syringe filled with a glowing, viscous liquid. The neon substance pulsed with an unnatural light, thick as molten amber. The girl's heartbeat pounded in her ears, a war drum signaling the inevitable.

Kimura's eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. "Hehe, this serum's going to make you a lot more... cooperative. Or maybe just more fun to watch."

"Ngggrrrhhhh!!!"

Despite her struggle, the needle pierced her neck, the fluid burning its way into her veins like liquid fire. The girl's body jerked violently, muscles seizing as the drug took hold. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room swimming in an unnatural haze. The heat spread, twisting through her nerves, igniting something buried deep inside.

Kimura stepped back, arms folded, watching the transformation unfold. "That's it, girl," she whispered, voice thick with cruel pleasure. "Let the beast out. Go make some friends out there. Or enemies. Meh, I don't care."

Outside, the battle raged on. But soon, another monster would join the fray.

.....

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A/N: Please donate your power stones and leave more reviews for my story, I appreciate it and thank you for your support!