The sound of a car door slamming shut echoed through the cavernous space of an abandoned warehouse. Michelle Amanda stepped out first, her boots crunching against the gravel as she scanned the dimly lit interior. Behind her, Logan, Dr. Hank McCoy, and Storm emerged from the vehicle, their expressions wary and alert. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the car's engine cooling down.
"Wraith!" Michelle called out, her voice ringing through the empty warehouse. The sound bounced off the walls, but there was no immediate response.
"Michelle, be careful," Storm cautioned, her voice calm but firm. Her eyes darted around the shadowy space, her instincts on high alert. She could feel the faintest shift in the air, a subtle charge that hinted at something—or someone—powerful nearby.
"Ah, sorry," Michelle said, lowering her voice slightly but still scanning the darkness. "He's here. I know he is."
Dr. Hank McCoy adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes taking in the surroundings. "Are you sure he's here, Michelle? Are we in the right place?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.
Logan, meanwhile, had already taken a few steps forward, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. The scent of blood—thick and metallic—lingered in the air, unmistakable even to someone without his heightened senses. "We're in the right place, alright," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. His claws slid out with a soft *shink*, glinting in the faint moonlight filtering through the cracked windows.
"Wraith!" Logan snarled, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the shadows. "How long are you gonna watch us in the dark like some creep?"
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a deep, calm voice broke through the stillness. "Every single time I'm called, more unrelated people show up."
From the shadows, The Wraith emerged, his movements slow and deliberate. The moonlight gradually illuminated his figure, revealing the man who had become both a legend and a nightmare. Storm and Dr. Hank McCoy froze, their instincts screaming at them to be cautious. Even Logan, who had faced The Wraith before, felt a primal unease settle in his gut.
"Hmm," The Wraith said, his voice carrying an uncanny charisma that seemed to draw everyone in despite their fear. "Now this is an interesting new acquaintance you've brought with you, Michelle."
Michelle winced slightly; her guilt evident. "Sorry, Wraith. This time, they had to tag along."
The Wraith waved a hand dismissively. "I don't mind. These two are just like Logan over there—Mutants and Charles Xavier's people. Besides, you might need more help this time anyway."
His tone was casual, almost conversational, but there was an undeniable weight to his words. Storm and Dr. Hank exchanged a glance, both sensing the power radiating from the man before them.
The Wraith turned his attention to Dr. Hank McCoy, his piercing gaze locking onto the geneticist. "Dr. Henry Philip McCoy," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine respect. "It's an honor to meet you. Your work in evolutionary biology is truly groundbreaking. I've read your papers on cellular adaptation and accelerated evolution. Remarkable stuff."
Dr. Hank blinked, taken aback by the unexpected praise. "You… know me and my work?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.
"Of course," The Wraith replied, his tone sincere. "Your work has contributed a lot to the Mutant community. It's a step toward acceptance in the real world…Making the public understood about Mutants a little bit more,"
Dr. Hank smiled faintly, visibly touched by the heartfelt compliment. "Thank you," he said, his voice soft.
The Wraith's expression shifted slightly, his gaze growing more intense. "Although," he added, "you should probably look at the whole thing from a different angle when it comes to Mutants. After all, we don't actually 'mutate.' We simply awaken our X-genes."
Dr. Hank's eyes widened; his scientific curiosity piqued. "Hold on a minute. What do you mean by that?"
The Wraith crossed his arms, his deep voice carrying a note of authority. "All humans in this world have the X-gene within them. Homo sapiens went through genetic modifications a long time ago. Right now, it's just a matter of when the entire human population will normalize with Mutants."
Dr. Hank stared at him, his mind racing to process the implications. He glanced at Logan and Michelle, who both shrugged, their expressions a mix of amusement and resignation. "He does this sometimes," Michelle said with a shy smile. "Long-winded rants about genetics and evolution. You get used to it."
The Wraith's words hung in the air; his tone calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "Anyway," he continued, tapping Dr. Hank McCoy on the shoulder, "why not try approaching things differently in your studies from now on? These powers aren't entirely a curse. They're just… what we are."
Storm, her curiosity piqued, stepped forward. "So, you're a mutant too?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with intrigue.
The Wraith turned to her, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "Well, yes, Princess Ororo Munroe, I am. But to me, the label 'mutant' is too derogatory. I prefer to be called a Meta-Human. It's a much better term."
The group froze, their attention immediately drawn to two key words: 'Princess' and 'Meta-Human'. Michelle, Logan, Dr. Hank, and Storm exchanged glances; their curiosity now fully ignited.
Logan, ever the blunt one, broke the silence. "Hmm, 'mutant' does sound awful, like we're freaks or something. Bub, what's this 'Meta-Human' thing you're talking about?"
The Wraith crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "It means exactly what it sounds like—a human with a metagene that grants us powers. It's a term meant to drive positivity and acceptance for people like us. The word 'mutant' is racist to me, and I hate it."
Michelle nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Meta-Humans… I like that."
Storm, however, was still stuck on the other word The Wraith had used. "One more thing, Wraith," she said, her tone firm but not hostile. "Why did you address me as 'Princess' just now?"
The Wraith raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild surprise. "Hmm? You don't know?"
Storm's eyes narrowed. "What don't I know?"
The Wraith's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained direct. "Has your mother already passed away?"
Storm's breath hitched, her emotions flickering across her face. "Yes," she said, her voice tight. The pain of her mother's loss was still fresh, but her desire for answers outweighed her hurt.
The Wraith nodded; his expression somber. "Well, your mother was a princess. That title also befell onto you. You belong to an ancient tribe that can wield magic, originating from Kenya, Africa."
The revelation hit like a thunderclap. Everyone in the room stared at The Wraith, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard. Storm, in particular, looked utterly stunned. "What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The Wraith continued, unfazed by their shock. "That ancestral ruby of yours is a powerful artifact. It makes you, in essence, a daughter of Gaia—the goddess of Earth."
Another bombshell. Storm's hand instinctively went to the ruby necklace she always wore, her fingers brushing against its smooth surface. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The Wraith shrugged, his tone casual despite the gravity of his words. "Yeah, and before you ask, magic is real. So are gods. Both are pretty ridiculous and a mess, if you ask me."
Logan opened his mouth to interject, but The Wraith cut him off with a raised hand. "Enough exposition for today. All you need to know is that the world is still round and spinning right now, so let's leave it at that."
The group fell silent, the weight of The Wraith's words settling over them. It was clear that pushing for more answers would be futile—The Wraith had said his piece, and he wasn't one to elaborate further.
"Today, I called you here because the same situation has happened again," The Wraith said, his tone shifting to something more serious. He turned and began walking deeper into the warehouse, gesturing for the others to follow.
"Experiments?" Logan asked, his voice low and grim.
"Yes," The Wraith replied, his expression darkening. "Experimentation. Turning Meta-Humans into lab rats for their own amusement."
As they reached the far end of the warehouse, the group froze. Before them lay thirty children, all asleep on clean, padded floors. Ten of them were visibly injured, their small bodies bearing the marks of cruelty and neglect. The sight was heartbreaking.
"Oh my god," Storm whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in the scene.
Dr. Hank McCoy was the first to spring into action. "Michelle, get my bag from the car. Hurry!" he said, his voice urgent. Without waiting for a response, he rushed to the side of one of the critically wounded children, his hands already moving to assess their injuries.
The Wraith stood back; his expression unreadable as he watched the group scramble to help. For all his power and mystery, there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes—a reminder that even someone as fearsome as him cared deeply for those who couldn't protect themselves.
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AN: My Ko-Fi page had been updated, Ep 101-110 is already out~
Once again, Thanks for your Support, as always~
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