Chapter 7: The Laboratory of Dr. Sin
The aircraft was unlike anything I'd ever seen. The interior was pristine white, with surfaces that seemed to bend light in impossible ways. No visible seams, no obvious controls—just smooth curves that hurt to look at directly. It felt less like a vehicle and more like the inside of some alien organism.
Sinister sat across from me, still perfectly composed despite having just orchestrated a military assault. He'd pulled out another tablet and was reviewing what looked like medical charts, occasionally making notes with a stylus that moved across the screen like liquid mercury.
"Your vitals are fascinating," he said without looking up. "Heart rate: forty-two beats per minute. Body temperature: ninety-four degrees Fahrenheit. Cellular regeneration rate: four hundred percent above baseline human norms. And that's just what we can measure externally."
"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"My laboratory. A place where science can advance without the tedious restrictions of ethics committees and government oversight." He finally looked up, those pale eyes studying me like I was a particularly interesting specimen. "You'll like it there. Very... educational."
Through the aircraft's window, I watched the landscape blur past below us. We were moving impossibly fast, but there was no sense of acceleration, no turbulence. Whatever powered this thing was beyond anything the government had shown me.
"How long have you been watching me?" I asked.
""Since your first death, actually. The drowning incident was quite spectacular—though primitive compared to what you've achieved since." He swiped to another screen, showing surveillance footage I recognized. Me walking away from the chemical explosion at school. Me surviving the car crash. Me facing down Jake and his friends in the cafeteria. "I have extensive files on your... development."
"Because, my dear boy, you weren't ready. Each death, each adaptation, has been carefully orchestrated to push you toward your full potential. The government's little tests were useful—particularly that encounter with Pyro. Fire immunity, pyrokinesis, adaptive metallurgy... you absorbed more from that single engagement than most mutants develop in a lifetime."
The casual way he discussed my suffering made my stomach turn. "You've been manipulating everything?"
"Not manipulating. Guiding. There's a difference." He set the tablet aside and leaned forward. "Do you know what you are, Alex? Not what the government told you, not what you've assumed, but what you actually are?"
"A mutant."
"No. You're something far more significant. You're the next step. Not just in mutant evolution, but in the evolution of life itself." His voice took on an almost reverent quality. "Unlimited adaptability, true immortality, infinite potential for growth. You're not homo superior, Alex. You're homo evolutis—a species of one."
The aircraft began to descend, and through the window I saw our destination. It looked like a mountain at first, but as we got closer I realized it was artificial—a massive structure built into the cliff face, almost invisible from a distance. Camouflaged, hidden, designed to avoid detection.
"Welcome to the Breeding Pits," Sinister said with obvious pride. "My masterwork."
The name sent a chill down my spine. "Breeding pits?"
"Where I perfect the genetic code. Where I create the future." The aircraft settled onto a landing platform that extended from the mountain like a metal tongue. "Come. Your education begins now."
I had no choice but to follow him off the aircraft. The landing platform was built into a natural shelf in the cliff face, hundreds of feet above the ground. The view was spectacular—forests and mountains stretching to the horizon—but I barely noticed. My attention was focused on the entrance to the facility, a seamless opening in the rock that dilated like an iris as we approached.
Inside was a temple to scientific obsession.
The corridors were lined with tanks filled with glowing liquid, each one containing something that had once been alive. Genetic experiments, failed prototypes, things that defied classification. Some looked almost human. Others were so alien I couldn't guess what they were supposed to be.
"My earlier work," Sinister explained, noticing my stare. "Before I understood the true potential of adaptive evolution. I thought I could force genetic perfection through external manipulation. Crude, really."
We passed laboratories where figures in white coats worked over operating tables, their faces hidden behind surgical masks. The sounds that came from those rooms made me want to run, but Sabretooth and two other Marauders flanked us, making escape impossible.
"Where's my mother?" I demanded.
"Safe. For now. But her continued well-being depends entirely on your cooperation." He gestured to a reinforced door marked with biohazard symbols. "After you."
The room beyond was part laboratory, part medical facility, part torture chamber. Banks of computers lined the walls, their screens showing data streams I couldn't understand. In the center sat a chair that looked more like a throne, surrounded by mechanical arms that ended in various medical instruments.
"Have a seat," Sinister said pleasantly.
"No."
"Alex, let me be very clear about your situation. Your mother is currently in a cell three levels below us, being watched by some of my less... stable creations. If you don't cooperate, I'll let them play with her. They enjoy playing with humans."
The casual cruelty in his voice made my decision for me. I walked to the chair and sat down, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
"Excellent. Now, this won't hurt much. I just need to take some samples, run a few tests, map your genetic structure." Mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, each one equipped with different instruments. "Try not to move. Some of these devices are quite sharp."
The first needle slid into my arm before I could react, drawing blood with mechanical efficiency. Then another, and another. Within seconds, I had half a dozen IV lines running from various points on my body. The machines began their work, and I could feel my strength being systematically drained.
"Fascinating," Sinister murmured, watching readouts on his screens. "Your cellular structure is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's as if your DNA is constantly rewriting itself, adapting in real-time to perceived threats."
"How long is this going to take?"
"Oh, we're just getting started. I need to understand how your resurrection mechanism works, how your adaptive immunity functions, what triggers your evolutionary jumps." More mechanical arms descended, these equipped with what looked like biopsy needles. "This might be uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable was an understatement. The needles punched through my skin and muscle, extracting tissue samples from various parts of my body. My enhanced healing tried to keep up, but the machines were faster than my regeneration could handle. Blood ran down the chair, pooling on the floor below.
"Stop," I gasped.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. You see, Alex, you represent the culmination of everything I've worked toward. A perfect fusion of science and evolution, of control and chaos. I can't let an opportunity like this slip away."
The pain was getting worse, but there was something else. A growing heat in my chest, a pressure building behind my eyes. My body was trying to adapt to this new threat, but it couldn't figure out what to adapt to. The machines weren't trying to kill me—they were just taking pieces.
"Your stress hormones are spiking," Sinister observed. "Adrenaline, cortisol, something else I don't recognize. Your body is preparing for a fight-or-flight response, but it can't identify the threat. Interesting."
The pressure behind my eyes exploded into pain so intense I screamed. For a moment, I couldn't see anything except white-hot agony. Then my vision cleared, and I realized something had changed.
The world looked different. I could see heat signatures, electromagnetic fields, the flow of blood through Sinister's veins. My vision had become something more than human.
"Remarkable," Sinister breathed. "Stress-induced evolution. Your body is adapting to the laboratory environment by developing enhanced sensory capabilities. Simply extraordinary."
But the changes weren't stopping there. I could feel my bones hardening, my muscles condensing, my nervous system rewiring itself for maximum efficiency. My body was turning itself into a weapon designed for one purpose: escape.
"I think that's enough for today," Sinister said, apparently noticing the changes as well. "We wouldn't want you to adapt too quickly. Evolution is a process that should be... savored.
The mechanical arms retracted, leaving me bloody and weak in the chair. But I wasn't the same person who'd sat down. I could feel the differences in every cell, every nerve ending. I was stronger, faster, more aware.
And I was very, very angry.
"Take him to his quarters," Sinister instructed the Marauders. "Make sure he's comfortable. We have a lot more work to do tomorrow."
Sabretooth grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I thought about fighting back, testing my new capabilities against his enhanced strength. But I needed to find my mother first, needed to understand the layout of this place.
Patience. Strategy. The old Alex would have acted on impulse, gotten himself killed in the process. But I was learning to think like a predator.
My "quarters" turned out to be a cell, though it was more comfortable than the one at the government facility. Real bed, private bathroom, even a small entertainment system. The walls were some kind of reinforced polymer that felt stronger than steel when I tested it with my enhanced senses.
But there was something else. A scent in the air that my new sensory capabilities could detect—fear, sweat, desperation. Human scents. My mother was somewhere in this facility, and she was terrified.
I was going to find her. And then I was going to burn this place to the ground.
But first, I needed to understand exactly what I'd become.