Ever since learning his mutant abilities were capped at Level 2, George had been strategizing how to maximize their potential.
He couldn't mimic Magneto—halting bullets or missiles midair, lifting thousands of tons, manipulating Earth's magnetic field, or flying.
But the base instructors' method of training him to kill with daggers? Pathetically inefficient.
Needles would've been better—faster, more numerous. Less lethal, yes, but deadly enough when aimed at eyes, ears, or other vulnerable points.
After much deliberation, he concluded that firearms were the optimal medium for his magnetism.
Bullets already had unmatched speed and force. All he needed was to tweak their trajectories slightly—turning himself into a superhuman marksman.
And this was just with submachine guns. If his powers grew stronger, imagine controlling heavy machine gun fire.
A one-man army. He could've soloed the entire base.
"Move!"
After emptying most of two magazines, the cafeteria's guards lay dead. George waved at the stunned Gabriela and the wary X-23.
"Laura, let's go!"
Snapping out of it, Gabriela grabbed Laura's hand and sprinted toward George.
She recognized Subject 757—unlike the child test subjects, this adult-aged mutant had been handled by specialized personnel, not nurses.
But if he was helping, he wasn't an enemy.
They caught up to the other children quickly. Yet George stayed alert. This facility had far more guards, and they'd only won by exploiting chaos and surprise.
A sniper could drop him before he sensed the bullet. A .50-caliber round would pierce concrete—no magnetic deflection could save him.
No room for complacency.
Miraculously, they reached the exit unchallenged—no snipers, no Wolverine clone.
"Where are the main lab and data archives?"
After loading the kids onto the truck, George didn't board. Instead, he questioned Gabriela.
Confused, she pointed. "There… and there."
"Good. Let's leave them a parting gift."
From his backpack—stuffed with grenades looted from dead guards, plus cash for the road—he retrieved a dozen fragmentation grenades.
Magnetism guided the grenades precisely to their targets. Mid-flight, pins pulled simultaneously.
BOOM!
Twin explosions engulfed the lab and archives in fire.
"Now we go."
Satisfied, George climbed into the truck beside a gaping Gabriela.
His goal was simple: kill high-ranking personnel if possible, but at minimum, destroy research data and delay pursuit.
One Hour Later
A dust-covered Dr. Rice slapped Commander Donald across the face.
"Incompetent! You were supposed to dispose of trash, not let them escape AND destroy my research! If X-24 hadn't survived, you'd be in the incinerator!"
"My apologies, sir. The nurses' interference was unforeseen."
Donald absorbed the blow without flinching.
Rice exhaled sharply. "I don't want excuses. Retrieve those mutants—eliminate them before outside groups notice."
As a shadowy corporate magnate tied to terrorist groups, Rice knew the risks. If SHIELD discovered surviving mutants, they'd trace them back to him.
Until his clone army was ready, he couldn't afford their attention.
"Keep me updated. If necessary, I'll deploy X-24—test his combat readiness."
"Understood."
Donald left the smoldering lab to regroup his men.
Investigation Report
"Commander, forensics confirm Subject 757's involvement. He—"
A squad leader briefed Donald on the findings.
Donald frowned. "Him? A Level 2 mutant shouldn't pose this threat."
He'd overseen the operation. The children's breakout was contained until gunfire erupted in the cafeteria—then silence.
He'd been mobilizing reinforcements when the explosions forced him to prioritize Rice's safety.
"No mistake. Captain Biss's team was wiped. 757 destroyed surveillance, but trace analysts tracked his path. Most casualties were gunshot wounds—all lethal."
"A sharpshooter? His profile never indicated such skills."
Mutant marksmen typically had enhanced vision, reflexes, or motion tracking—not telepathy and magnetism.
"Perhaps consult the Doctor?"
But Rice's temper discouraged questions.
Donald dismissed it. Even a skilled shooter, untrained, wasn't a major concern.