Chapter 9

If you are wondering, the late update because in the next week I'm having computer drive test. So, don't expect any update.

Bye bye

*****

"Mom, can't I just skip a grade? The teacher already gave me permission," Charles asked, his tone impatient.

"No, you still need to socialize," Sharon replied firmly.

"Why though? I can just build connections later," Charles countered, arms crossed.

"You always have something to say back. Who taught you this?" Sharon asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Books," Charles answered flatly.

Sharon, frustrated, reached to pull his ear, but Brian cut in, chuckling. "Let the kid skip a grade, honey. He's probably bored stiff in class."

"But dear, he won't be able to make any friends!" Sharon protested.

"With how he's going, he might cause trouble," Brian reasoned, though he smiled at his son, who shot him a thumbs up.

Sharon sighed, visibly stumped, before she turned to Charles. "Can you promise not to disturb the other kids?"

"Nope," Charles replied without hesitation.

Sharon threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine, you can skip a grade."

"I love you, Mom!" Charles grinned and hugged her, quickly darting away before she could change her mind.

Still annoyed, Sharon gave Brian a look. "Take him before I regret this."

"Come on, Charles," Brian said, patting his son's back. "Let's go."

Charles waved as he followed his dad. "Bye, Mom!"

They headed to Brian's workplace, and upon arrival, they went their separate ways. As Charles started to look for his friend, he was intercepted by Dr. Milbury.

Charles hesitated but decided to follow him instead. When they reached Dr. Milbury's lab, Charles was taken aback by the sight of the new machine—a massive sphere-like cockpit. Then, Dr. Milbury transformed, revealing his true identity as Mr. Sinister.

"Go take a seat," Mr. Sinister instructed.

Charles complied, sitting in the cockpit. As soon as he settled in, the machine locked his wrists, ankles, and forehead, holding him firmly in place.

"Hmmm," Mr. Sinister muttered, tapping a series of buttons. "Running initial diagnostics to ensure systems are stable. All readings are within acceptable limits."

The cockpit sealed shut, leaving Charles in darkness.

"Beginning data collection in 3, 2, 1…" Mr. Sinister's voice echoed from outside the sphere.

"Everything's stable. Proceeding to the next phase." Sinister's grin widened as he watched the data pour in, eager to see the limits of Charles' mind tested once more.

The machine began to hum, gradually glowing as the experiment started.

At this initial stage, the process didn't harm Charles. It was more of a dissonant noise, a chaotic echo bouncing through his mind, but nothing physically damaging.

"His mutant gene isn't fluctuating," Mr. Sinister observed, tapping on the console. "Raising the levels."

Inside the cockpit, Charles began to tremble violently, his body convulsing as if gripped by a seizure. His mind felt like it was being ripped apart, yet his willpower anchored him. *I won't die to some stupid experiment,* he vowed internally.

Desperate to hold himself together, his mind involuntarily started playing a song, *The Only Thing I Know For Real*, the rhythm pounding through him, giving him just enough to stay focused, to stay whole.

Mr. Sinister, watching the readings, grew increasingly fascinated. "Remarkable… his mind is holding together. His mental resilience is beyond expectations. But why… why isn't his gene reacting?" he muttered, puzzled.

The data was perplexing. Despite the immense strain, Charles' mutant gene wasn't evolving. In previous experiments, even slight pushes to the limit had triggered minor mutations. But this time, nothing.

Minutes passed, and Charles felt his consciousness slipping away. *I'm not dying,* he repeated to himself, but his body betrayed him—foam started bubbling at his mouth as his senses dulled.

Seeing this, Mr. Sinister clenched his fist in frustration. "Subject C-X has failed."

He slammed a button, abruptly halting the experiment. The machine's hum died down, and the cockpit opened, revealing Charles in a near-catatonic state, barely hanging on, his mouth still bubbling.

Mr. Sinister gazed at him, calculating. "His mutant gene is not what I had hoped," he said coldly. "Still… he will serve as an excellent backup vessel."

Without hesitation, he walked over to Charles, placing a hand on his head.

With a swift motion, Mr. Sinister wiped every trace of the experiments from Charles' memory, erasing the trauma, the pain, and the knowledge of how close he had come to breaking.

"Sleep well, Charles. You'll forget this ever happened… but when the time comes, I'll use you again."

As Charles lies unconscious, Mr. Sinister looms over him, a faint smirk forming on his lips as the memory-erasing process finishes. His voice, smooth and chilling, echoes in the sterile lab.

"Such potential, wasted—at least for now."

He brushes a hand across the controls, shutting down the machine, then speaks softly as though addressing Charles, despite knowing he won't remember.

"Your mind may have failed to transcend the limits I set, but no matter... even in failure, you serve a purpose. Every failure is a blueprint for perfection."

He glances at the monitors, noting the data streams, then turns back to Charles.

"I've erased this little... inconvenience from your memory. You'll return to your life, blissfully unaware of what could have been. And when the time comes, Charles, when your power ripens, I'll be waiting."

Sinister's smile widens, full of malice and cold curiosity.

"You'll come to me again, willingly or not. After all, I am patient. I can wait. But next time... you won't fail."

He steps away, casting one last glance at Charles.

"Goodbye, Charles Xavier. Until we meet again."

But someone was already in the lab. Mr. Sinister turned to see a figure standing in the shadows, dressed in a hero suit, their helmet gleaming with a golden faceplate. The figure's voice was cold, commanding. "Are you satisfied now?"

Mr. Sinister smirked, unfazed. "Yes, though it's disappointing my experiment failed."

The figure stepped forward, revealing themselves as Irene. Her tone was sharp. "Don't touch Charles again. I need him to grow."

Mr. Sinister's eyes gleamed with cunning. "I'll keep my promise… but if he strikes first, that's a different matter."

Irene said nothing further and turned to leave, her presence as fleeting as it was imposing. Mr. Sinister watched her go, muttering under his breath, "She's far too mysterious... and I want that forbidden knowledge hidden in her mind."

But deep down, he knew better. To challenge Irene directly would be a perilous move, even for someone like him.