Chapter 5

The lab beneath Xavier's Mansion hummed with subdued life. Screens flickered with diagnostic readouts and static-soaked footage, illuminating the otherwise dim space in shades of green and blue. A paused image of Bakugo mid-air dominated the central monitor with his arms outstretched, sweat glistening, eyes burning like twin suns, his body caught in a raw, violent halo of light.

Beast aka Dr. Hank McCoy stood silently before it, claws steepled under his chin, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

"Gentlemen," he began, voice composed but humming with restrained awe, "what we witnessed today wasn't mere adrenaline or rage. It was… a biological shift. An evolutionary leap, if you will."

Across the room, Professor Charles Xavier sat in contemplative silence, fingers laced in his lap. Scott Summers loomed by the console, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw working as he replayed the simulation again and again. Logan leaned against the far wall, every muscle in his arms knotted like rope, watching silently.

Beast typed a sequence into the console. A scan of Bakugo's nervous system flared onto the screen, lit like a firestorm from head to toe.

"When he entered that state what he called 'Nothing,' and I'm calling Rage Amplification his body underwent radical biochemical changes. Neural activity tripled. His adrenal system spiked into the red, yet his pain receptors shut down entirely. His body was burning itself alive… and he didn't stop. He couldn't feel it."

Scott's brow furrowed beneath his visor. "He couldn't feel anything?"

"Nothing. He was pure motion. Pure instinct."

Footage played behind them Bakugo tearing through Sentinels with primal violence. Each blast was stronger than the last, shockwaves bending steel and light alike.

"His explosions weren't just stronger," Beast continued, "they were more refined. They branched mid-flight, they folded back on themselves, re-igniting on impact. That's control under duress. That's not random power it's calculated chaos."

Logan grunted. "Kid's a walkin' warhead."

Xavier finally spoke, his voice soft. "A warhead with a fuse that lights itself when the pressure's too high."

Beast zoomed in on Bakugo's face from the footage eyes completely orange, no pupils. "This color shift isn't cosmetic. It's indicative of a full cortical override. He wasn't thinking. He was reacting and acting on the deepest layer of survival instinct. A berserker state overlaid on a unique explosive mutation."

Scott stepped closer, arms dropping to his sides. "You think his mutation is evolving?"

"Or it always had this potential," Beast replied, "and no one ever pushed him far enough to see it."

A long silence.

Then Beast said what they all had begun to fear.

"If he can learn to control it and if his body survives the internal stress Bakugo could become one of the most powerful mutants this school has ever trained."

Logan scoffed. "Big if. Kid's burning the candle at both ends… and lightin' the damn middle too. He'll tear himself to pieces long before he learns to aim that power."

Xavier turned toward the screen, gaze distant.

"Or," he said quietly, "he could be the one who stands between us and extinction. When the war comes… someone like him might be the only thing left between us and annihilation."

Scott looked down at the monitor, where Bakugo lay unconscious in the medbay, half-wrapped in gauze and still scowling in his sleep.

"Yeah," he muttered, "and that's the part I'm worried about."

The sky was bright. Blue and warm. Wind rustled through the tall grass, catching sweat and laughter.

Bakugo ran barefoot down a hill, heart pounding with joy he didn't understand. Behind him—

"Kacchan! Wait!"

He turned. A smaller boy ran after him—green hair wild, cheeks flushed. Clumsy, smiling, eyes wide and full of faith.

"You'll never keep up, Deku!" Bakugo barked with a sneer.

"I—I'm trying!" the boy gasped. "We're supposed to stay together!"

"Tch. Then move your damn legs, nerd."

The memory shattered.

A burst of orange light. Then nothing.

Bakugo sat bolt upright in the medbay, gasping like he'd been pulled from the bottom of the ocean. Cold sweat clung to his skin. Bandages wrapped his chest. His palms ached. His breath came fast and ragged.

"Izuku…" he whispered.

The name burned in his throat.

A voice broke the silence.

"You said a name," came Charles Xavier's calm tone. "Izuku. Who is that?"

Bakugo's eyes snapped to the professor.

Scowl first. Then a slow, rising snarl.

"Stay the hell outta my head, old man."

"I didn't," Xavier said gently. "You said it out loud."

Bakugo swung his legs off the bed, every muscle protesting as he stood. He ran a trembling hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched tight.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered.

"Someone important to you?"

The question hit like a sucker punch.

Bakugo didn't answer. He just stared raw, wounded and gave a dry, bitter laugh.

"Don't get cocky, Professor. You wanna play shrink? Go dig through someone else's trauma."

"Bakugo—"

But the teen was already moving.

"It's none of your damn business."

The doors hissed open and slammed shut behind him. Xavier didn't move. He simply sat in the silence, fingers pressed together, brows furrowed.

He hadn't read Bakugo's mind. He didn't need to.

The boy was haunted. And the ghost had a name.

The hallways blurred past as Bakugo stormed through the mansion, boots hitting the floor like gunfire. Students parted instinctively, sensing the storm inside him. The medbay. The dream. Izuku.

It was too much.

He needed to fight.

To burn.

He rounded a corner and nearly ran straight into her.

Laura Kinney. Lean, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall in her usual silence. Torn jeans. Tank top. Eyes like knives.

She regarded him coolly.

"Still sulking?"

Bakugo sneered.

"Still lurking like a damn stalker?"

She shrugged. "You look like hell."

"Funny. I was just about to say the same to you."

He started past her, but something reckless coiled in his chest. He turned back.

"I heard you're a clone," he said, voice louder. "Of some freak with metal claws who tears people up like rotisserie chicken. That your birthright? Psychosis?"

Laura didn't react at first.

He pushed again. Harder.

"Or maybe you don't even have a mom. Just some lab rat baby cooked up in a Petri dish. That it? Just a science project with rage issues?"

The hallway fell dead silent.

Laura's jaw twitched.

Then—

SNIKT.

The sound was like a shot. Her claws extended with lethal grace, eyes blazing with fury.

"You don't ever talk about my mother."

Bakugo's palms ignited, sweat fizzing with light.

"Oh, you wanna go, you little science fair reject?"

She lunged. He blasted back. Claws met explosions in a violent ballet. They tore through the hallway sparks flying, lockers denting, alarms blaring.

Students scattered.

"Training hall!" Logan barked somewhere behind them.

They didn't listen.

They crashed through a door into the reinforced training room. The air was thick with smoke and fury.

Laura's claws flashed, slicing across Bakugo's side. Blood flew. He roared and launched a blast straight into her ribs, sending her flying.

But she was up in seconds and already healing.

"You don't know anything about me!" she screamed, charging again.

"Don't need to!" he shouted back. "I can smell the self-hate on you!"

They clashed again close, brutal. She tackled him, claws raking. He blasted point-blank, sending them both sprawling. Blood dripped from his mouth. Fire crackled at his fingertips. Her jeans were scorched. Her face cut. But her wounds closed faster than he could inflict them.

He grinned, breathing hard.

"Damn healing factor…"

"ENOUGH!"

The word hit like a shockwave.

Logan grabbed them both with one hand on each teen like iron vises.

"Cut the crap before I put both of you in traction."

They froze, panting. Blood dripped onto the floor. Fire faded. Claws retracted.

Laura yanked free first. She turned and stormed off, smoke rising from her back, leaving a trail of blood and scorched rage.

Bakugo stayed. Just a second longer.

Spat blood on the floor.

"Damn clone…"

Logan stepped into his path.

"You're not tough, kid," he growled. "You're pissed off and hurtin'. That don't make you dangerous. That makes you sloppy."

Bakugo looked him dead in the eye, chest heaving.

"Then teach me to fight like I mean it."

Logan raised a brow. A moment passed. Then he nodded once.

And Bakugo walked off limping, burned, bleeding but alive.

And maybe, just maybe, learning.